Page 68 of Voracious

“Me too, Freckles. As much as I love hiding with you.”

I kiss her head then sit and watch as she redoes the entire routine.

And this time, she doesn’t forget her routine and decide to fuck me.

Sadly.

22

KADE

I’m waiting for it – the abrupt jolt to my brain that pulls me out of this.

I fell asleep. I never fall asleep. I always fuck and leave. I always go to the nearest bathroom, vomit up my guts then snort far too many lines to forget what I just did.

Clients are becoming more frequent, to the point that I’m trying to compromise with Bernadette not to send me, to send someone else. I even offered to pay one of her guards to fuck a client fully masked and pretend they’re me.

Why did I fall asleep?

I woke up ten minutes ago with my combats down to my ankles, boots still on, and felt like I’d fallen asleep within a dream and woken up in fucking paradise.

The feel of Stacey cuddled into my side. Her breath on my skin with each fill of her perfect little lungs. Her hand splayed on my chest.

She’s alive. She’s real. She’s alive.

And she’s lying on my bed in a ripped tutu, a corset that barely contains her tits and heeled boots she usually only wears while dancing – with marks on her throat, reddened skin on her inner thighs and my cum dripping out of her cunt. I must be dreaming still.

The joint in my pocket is still intact, so I spark it, lean against my dresser and watch her. I watch the glistening liquid seeping out of her pussy, the clear evidence that I just fucked her – my cock is covered in her cum too.

I pace my bedroom again, taking draw after draw, running my hand through my hair, stopping to look at her again.

She’s real.

I stub out the smoke, go into the bathroom, soak a towel in warm water and come back out. Then I climb onto the bed, settling between her legs, and start cleaning up her thighs.

She moans as I wipe her pussy, and I freeze, lifting my gaze up to her, but she’s still asleep. The last thing I want to do is make her hot and bothered while she’s passed out, so I wipe the rest of her thighs then lean forward and place a soft kiss on one.

She moans again, and my cock twitches as if I didn’t screw her brains out not long ago.

I pull myself away, rinse the towel, toss it into the basket near my door then clean myself up. Stacey is still asleep. I even check her pulse to make sure she’s alive.

I’ve had enough nightmares of her dying, I check her pulse twice to make sure.

Then I check my phone and find four missed calls from Cassie. My eyes shut momentarily when I see a message.

Cassie:You aren’t in your apartment like you said you would be, and your motorbike is gone. I won’t tell my mother yet, but she’ll be furious when I do. You have an hour.

I exit the message and shake my head, nearly crushing my screen as I grip it. Fucking little twisted bitch. What part of “I’m not interested” does she not get? No matter how much shit they put me through, I won’t marry her. I’m not even contemplating giving in either.

It must be the drugs, but I feel blood all over my hands. Once I wash them for the tenth time, I stare at Stacey again, not sure if I should wake her up and tell her I need to leave or just… leave.

I can hear the faint hum of music playing downstairs. I wonder if my friends are still there?

I go back into the bathroom, splash my face again and try to make sure I don’t look too fucked up. But it’s no use. I’ve taken more lines than I can count tonight, needing something to take the edge off the pain still lingering from all those days I spent strapped to that goddamn electric chair.

Stacey is still asleep as I slip out of my room and down the spiral staircase I made her crawl up. Fuck, did that actually happen? Did she do that? Was it in my head?

I grab the hair at my nape as I walk through the manor, pulling it until it hurts.

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