pounding
and then his release was spurting hot and hard inside me.
We’d fucked in some of the most intense ways physically, but
this time something had shifted between us. After all this time running and
hiding and severing every connection between the human race and my new life, it
was X who I chose. I chose the monster.
I’d barely came back down to earth, when X pulled out,
rolling off me. His breath came in heaving gasps and he threw an arm over his
eyes, blocking out the world.
“X?” I whispered through a ragged breath.
He grunted, lowering his arm across the pillow. An
invitation for me to shift closer. I slid against him, tangling my legs with
his, my whole body humming. He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long
sigh, closing his eyes.
Last time, I’d fallen asleep before him and woken after he’d
gone. This time, his guard had slipped even further and he’d fallen asleep
first. Something was troubling him, but I didn’t even know if it was something
I could help with. He wouldn’t tell me in the first place.
X awake was a whole can of worms that I wasn’t sure how to
take, but X asleep? He had a boyish ruggedness about him and a vulnerability
that had never seemed to have surfaced before. His cool, controlled exterior
had melted away and something of the man underneath seemed to seep out, whoever
that man was.
X turned his head toward mine, whimpering slightly in his
sleep, his arm tightening around me. Stiffening slightly in his grasp, I peered
at him, waiting for his eyes to fly open and catch me trying to crack his
code...but he didn’t wake, he just went on dreaming whatever fucked up scenario
was playing out in his head.
Recklessly I traced a finger over his tattoo, wondering the
meaning, wondering why he had a space of nothing where his heart should be. I
stilled as my finger ran over raised lines all over his ribs. The tattoo hid
them so well that I hadn’t noticed, but his whole side seemed to be covered in
scars. Some were long, some were short, some were tiny round lesions and some
were raised more than others. What the hell?
X was a closed book ninety-nine point nine percent of the
time and ironically, I seemed to get more from him asleep than awake. He was
the ultimate puzzle. A puzzle I desperately wanted to solve.
Sighing, I nestled into his side, relishing the one sliver
of quiet time with him before morning. Because who the fuck knew if I’d ever
get it again.
Chapter Thirteen
X
Something was wrong with me.
Mercy Reid. Mercy Reid and her fucking pussy. That’s what
was wrong with me.
I stared at the pieces of the puzzle plastered to my
apartment wall and rubbed my cock through my jeans. I’d left her sleeping in
her bed hours ago, sleeping like an innocent little lamb unknowingly waiting to
go to the slaughter. I kept going back and she kept letting me. Stupid little
girl.
I could still feel her on my cock, even after the hour long
shower scrubbing my skin raw.
Was it a new compulsion rising to the surface? I didn’t
know. I didn’t know shit about why I had to do things. I just did them and
everything was right.
I forced my thoughts onto the ghost that the imagination of
Crazy Eddie, from the teahouse, had conjured. I didn’t know if I believed in
doppelgängers and evil shadow selves, but I did believe that people had the
potential to do dark things, no matter how good they believed themselves to be.
If Alison Crawford had changed her appearance, then the
photo stuck to my wall of the virginal looking University graduate meant shit.
Getting out a black marker, I leaned against the wall and colored in her hair.
Black, like the darkness Crazy Eddie had said she’d turned to.
Dropping the marker I pressed my forehead against the papers
stuck to the wall.
I needed to kill. I needed to feel blood run through my
fingers. I needed the pain and suffering. My soul was black and I needed to
feed it with
and then his release was spurting hot and hard inside me.
We’d fucked in some of the most intense ways physically, but
this time something had shifted between us. After all this time running and
hiding and severing every connection between the human race and my new life, it
was X who I chose. I chose the monster.
I’d barely came back down to earth, when X pulled out,
rolling off me. His breath came in heaving gasps and he threw an arm over his
eyes, blocking out the world.
“X?” I whispered through a ragged breath.
He grunted, lowering his arm across the pillow. An
invitation for me to shift closer. I slid against him, tangling my legs with
his, my whole body humming. He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long
sigh, closing his eyes.
Last time, I’d fallen asleep before him and woken after he’d
gone. This time, his guard had slipped even further and he’d fallen asleep
first. Something was troubling him, but I didn’t even know if it was something
I could help with. He wouldn’t tell me in the first place.
X awake was a whole can of worms that I wasn’t sure how to
take, but X asleep? He had a boyish ruggedness about him and a vulnerability
that had never seemed to have surfaced before. His cool, controlled exterior
had melted away and something of the man underneath seemed to seep out, whoever
that man was.
X turned his head toward mine, whimpering slightly in his
sleep, his arm tightening around me. Stiffening slightly in his grasp, I peered
at him, waiting for his eyes to fly open and catch me trying to crack his
code...but he didn’t wake, he just went on dreaming whatever fucked up scenario
was playing out in his head.
Recklessly I traced a finger over his tattoo, wondering the
meaning, wondering why he had a space of nothing where his heart should be. I
stilled as my finger ran over raised lines all over his ribs. The tattoo hid
them so well that I hadn’t noticed, but his whole side seemed to be covered in
scars. Some were long, some were short, some were tiny round lesions and some
were raised more than others. What the hell?
X was a closed book ninety-nine point nine percent of the
time and ironically, I seemed to get more from him asleep than awake. He was
the ultimate puzzle. A puzzle I desperately wanted to solve.
Sighing, I nestled into his side, relishing the one sliver
of quiet time with him before morning. Because who the fuck knew if I’d ever
get it again.
Chapter Thirteen
X
Something was wrong with me.
Mercy Reid. Mercy Reid and her fucking pussy. That’s what
was wrong with me.
I stared at the pieces of the puzzle plastered to my
apartment wall and rubbed my cock through my jeans. I’d left her sleeping in
her bed hours ago, sleeping like an innocent little lamb unknowingly waiting to
go to the slaughter. I kept going back and she kept letting me. Stupid little
girl.
I could still feel her on my cock, even after the hour long
shower scrubbing my skin raw.
Was it a new compulsion rising to the surface? I didn’t
know. I didn’t know shit about why I had to do things. I just did them and
everything was right.
I forced my thoughts onto the ghost that the imagination of
Crazy Eddie, from the teahouse, had conjured. I didn’t know if I believed in
doppelgängers and evil shadow selves, but I did believe that people had the
potential to do dark things, no matter how good they believed themselves to be.
If Alison Crawford had changed her appearance, then the
photo stuck to my wall of the virginal looking University graduate meant shit.
Getting out a black marker, I leaned against the wall and colored in her hair.
Black, like the darkness Crazy Eddie had said she’d turned to.
Dropping the marker I pressed my forehead against the papers
stuck to the wall.
I needed to kill. I needed to feel blood run through my
fingers. I needed the pain and suffering. My soul was black and I needed to
feed it with
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