Page 46 of Dark Knight

Now? Even though I’m lying here, dripping sweat, breathing hard, arms like jelly, I can’t wipe away the memory of her moans. Her tight body moving against mine, stirring up every dark, dangerous impulse imaginable. There has to be somebody around here I can fuck to get the need out of my system. I’m not feeling particularly picky – I have no room to be when so much is riding on my ability to control myself. Any wet hole will do at this point.

Right away, I see how pointless it is to consider it. What do I do, leave her here at home? Right. Why don’t I call Callum and tell him what type of casket I want. That’s not going to work. I’m stuck fucking my fist until we’re out of here and I return to some semblance of a normal life.

Fucking my fist while remembering the way she begged me to touch her. All the need in her voice, the desperation. She would’ve crawled over broken glass if it meant getting her lips around my cock.

I’m only human. How am I supposed to forget that? How do I pretend she never offered herself to me like that?

Her pleas echo in my memory as I walk down the hall and retreat to the bathroom. The TV is on downstairs—a laugh track echoes up the stairs. How much longer can either of us live like this? What I wouldn’t give to go back and do all of it differently. This was never going to work. Not for either of us.

Especially not if even the first sting of icy water isn’t enough to soothe my need. I force myself to endure it for a count of ten before it’s obvious my hard-on isn’t going anywhere, so I turn up the heat before leaning against the tile wall with my eyes closed.

It’s not only about claiming her. I need to break her down. I need her on her knees, looking up at me with those big, green eyes full of fear and desire. I need to know there’s nothing she craves more in this world than the feeling of my cock inside her.

I’m hard as steel and practically dripping by the time I give in and take myself in my fist, seeing her in front of me. “Touch me, Romero.” A groan stirs in my chest and my strokes pick up speed. I’ve been pushing aside dark, dirty thoughts and memories all day, and it takes no time for my pent-up desire to become a raging inferno blazing in my core and working its way through my extremities until there’s nothing but sensation. Sweet, all-encompassing sensation while I imagine doing all the things I could never attempt in reality. Not the way she is, how broken she feels.

There are no such limits in my imagination. I can hold Tatum in place with a hand around her throat while I pound her pussy until tears leak from her eyes. I can fuck her face while she gags on me. She’s not such a mouthy brat with my cock down her throat, is she?

Release comes over me all at once, and I empty my balls on the shower curtain, panting and groaning and wishing there was some other way to have what I crave. This needs to end before jerking off isn’t enough anymore. I’m already dangerously close to that point now that I know the taste of her lips and the electricity of her touch.

It doesn’t take long to clean up after myself, then wash off. Steam billows into the hall when I open the door, wearing a towel around my waist. I look toward her room, but the door still stands open the way it did earlier. What is she up to? Why do I care so damn much?

Once I’m dressed and on my way downstairs, I remember exactly why it’s important to care. She’s sitting on the sofa, arms folded, legs crossed, and the top leg swings dangerously fast. The girl is cooking something up. She doesn’t bother hiding it.

“It’s about time you came down today—rather, tonight.” She hurls it like an insult, as if that’s a crime. I’m reminded of somebody else who used to sit like that. Waiting. Silent accusations which wouldn’t be silent for long hanging in the air.

“Says the girl who spent two straight days in her room.” I cross my arms the way she does. “Some of us still have to work. What’s this about? I don’t have all night.” My stomach growls as if on cue, and I realize I haven’t eaten since early this morning once I gave up on trying to sleep.

“I’ve made a decision.”

“Congratulations.”

“I’m going out again.”

“The fuck you are.”

“Does it seem like I’m looking for your approval?” She didn’t sound so snide last night when she begged for my touch. The reminder is ready to drop off the tip of my tongue before I get hold of myself.

“You’re out of your goddamn mind, then. Have you forgotten what happened last time? Do you need me to remind you?”

“My memory’s just fine, thank you.”

“Then what gives? Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because I have to try. I have to. Don’t you get it?”

All I can do is roll my eyes at her ignorance. “No way. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not asking permission.”

“Why are you so goddamn determined to hurt yourself? Can you at least tell me that?”

“Why don’t you try answering a question for me instead? Why are you so determined to hold me back?”

“Oh, so protecting you is holding you back now? I guess you’ve forgotten the way you sobbed in that fucking alley.”

Damn me to hell for the satisfaction that rushes through me like wildfire when she flinches. I’m tired, dammit, exhausted after trying like hell to help somebody who can’t be bothered to help herself. “I’m not letting you put yourself through that again.”

“I need this. I need to keep trying. And I’m going whether or not you want me to — so you can either come with me like you did before, or you can leave me on my own.”

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