Page 24 of Love in the Dark

“Are you happy then?” She asks, her tone curious.

A humorless smile tugs at my lips but she can’t see it in the darkness.

In this very moment, we’re just two people who need to get some long-held darkness off their chests. We choose to do it with each other.

“No.”

The moment feels heavy. Too heavy for what we’re doing here and I shake my head.

Turning back towards her, I tell her.

“Your ex had no idea what he was doing.” Her eyes fly open and meet my sinful ones. “Sleep. You need energy for round three.”

They widen slightly at my words. “Again?”

I hum in approval. “You were so eager for my cock earlier,” I say, reaching out and stroking her lips. “I want you to show me what that mouth can do.”

???

I wake up hours later. It’s still dark out but the beginnings of a sunrise are visible on the horizon. My cock stirs, awake and ready to pick up where we left off.

Next to me, the sheets are thrown back and the bed is cold.

She’s gone.

I turn and look at my bedside table.

The top sheet of the notepad is missing, the paper ripped off.

???

Chapter 8

Nera

“Come on, Nera. Again! Stand up and go again.”

I’m bent at the waist, hands on my knees, struggling to catch my breath. Sweat drips from my brow and hits the mat below me. Coach Kravtsov stands five feet away, screaming.

Well, ‘screaming’. His volume never dips below irate army General regardless of the subject at hand, so I guess he’d argue that we’re just having a friendly conversation. His good morning greetings are enough to make you jump out of your skin if you’re not ready for them.

I draw in ragged breaths but it feels like no oxygen gets through to my lungs.

He doesn’t care.

“Stop standing there.Move! You’ll never win if you continue with this lazy, selfish attitude.”

Wiping my damp hands on my shorts, I squat and dig my fingers under the rim of the two-hundred-pound tire. My grip slips before I can lift it and I fall backwards on my ass.

“Again,” Coach Krav orders, uncaring of my exhausted state. “Embarrassing. The French champions can do this in their sleep.”

I squat and grab the tire again, clenching my stomach and digging into my heels as I work to get beneath the weight. I shift my hold to an underhand grip.

Sweat drips into my eye, blinding me. With difficulty, I get the weight over me. I just need to push it up and off, flipping it over.

This is the tenth time I’m doing this and I have nothing left to give. I feel weak. My head spins, my vision blurs, my muscles scream, but I won’t fail.

“Failure isn’t part of a Matsuoka’s vocabulary, Nera. If you failed then you didn’t want it enough, you didn’t try hard enough.”

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