Page 58 of The Heart of Smoke

“Are we answering questions with questions?”

Rather than responding, he moans when I pluck at his nipple. It’s tiny and erect. I want it between my fucking teeth. He sighs with pleasure when I twist it slightly.

My mind quiets as I am spellbound by his mewls of enjoyment. I know I need to back away before I do something regrettable, but I can’t find the reasoning as to why that’s a good idea. All I know is I want to give him pleasure and I ache for him to reciprocate.

“Do you want my cock inside you, little boy?” I rasp out, dragging my teeth along his jaw. “Hmm?”

He shudders and nods. I kiss my way back to his pouty lips, choosing to devour them next.

“Yes, Jude. Fuck me.”

Fucking hell.

His filthy mouth is my undoing. I’m unable to back away now. I’m committed, even if only for this dark, wicked night, to our mutual pleasure. Nothing can stop me now.

I slide my palm farther up his chest until it peeks out of the top of his shirt. My hand encircles his throat and I firmly grip it. I like the image of my hand shackling him to me. He whimpers when my thumb presses against his pulsing vein. I love how it dances beneath my touch—wild and out of control. The desire to hold him still, controlling the flow of his blood until he calms, is nearly maddening.

“Jude,” he murmurs. “I need—”

I squeeze a little harder, cutting him off as I slide my other hand down toward his cock. I know what he needs. He needs to come. I need to make him come.

His cock is as hard as mine. The outline of it beneath his pants under my palm is a sensation I’ll memorize until the day I die. I love it. I love feeling it throb with need, knowing I’m responsible for it.

A wheezing sound jerks me from my frenzied thoughts. I realize my grip on his neck is a little too tight. With how much smaller he is than me, I could easily crush his windpipe if I’m not careful. The thought of hurting him and possibly killing him over something as stupid as my strength when I’m out of control has me freezing.

What am I doing?

I can’t do this.

“Jude?”

His voice is hoarse and barely audible. Have I hurt him? Did I break him already?

“Tate,” I grunt, inching slightly back. “Fuck.”

The disgusted resignation in my voice must alarm him because he reaches up, fingers blindly brushing over my jawline. It’s so near to my awful face I panic.

“No,” I bark out, dropping my hands from him and yanking my leg away from between his. “D-Don’t do that.”

“Jude.” Again with the tiny, broken, lost voice. “I’m s-sorry I almost touched your face. Can we talk about this?”

I can’t.

I can’t do this.

I’m the monster and he’s…not.

We don’t belong together like this. It’s not fucking right.

“Night,” I grunt, stumbling farther away from him. “See you at breakfast.”

I don’t stop to pick up my mask or to touch him again. No, I run all the way to my room like a fucking coward. It’s not until the door is shut and locked behind me that I finally relax. I squeeze my eyes shut and slide down the door until I land hard on my ass, hating how quickly my lashes are turning wet from the pain of leaving him alone in the hallway.

It was beautiful for a moment.

Life was fucking perfect for one stolen moment.

I’ll lock it away in my memory to reexamine another day.

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