Page 1 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

Prologue

Ren

Weeks Later….

“Do you love me?” she whispers again. I bite back the urge to snap at her. It never ends well. It’s better to give her what she wants. To pretend. To not feel. I am nothing but a vessel for her to mold. There’s no room for the real me to exist. Not that I would even know who or what I am. But if I had to define myself, I would be a void.

Her hand moves over my hip bone. Her warm, naked body flushes against mine as she praises me for being so good–such a good boy. Her breath fans the side of my face. She tells me she loves me. Warm, salty tears slip down my cheek before her lips press against mine again. My mind goesblank, but my body obeys—just as she programmed it to.

“Do you love me, Ren?”

Again, the same question. Her guilt gnawing at her… for her twisted need. But love doesn’t exist here.

“Tell me you love me,” she pleads, turning me onto my back. Within moments, she’s on me, straddling my cock. I look up at her—short, black, silky hair falling around us as she leans closer, her nose brushing against mine–breathing me in.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I—“ The lie sticks in my throat as her hips begin to roll. Soft, slow movements.

“Please, sweet boy.”

Tears fall onto my chest, her nails digging into my skin, cutting through flesh.

“Do you love me?” she asks, running her soft hands down my chest. My body shivers from the touch. My skin is clammy, my hands are sweaty, my stomach is twisting ready to empty, just like I feel inside. Dead. Devoid of life.

My handsgrip her hips absentminded, instinctive chasing the high, the ecstasy, the only feeling I’ve ever known. I move with her slowly… closing my eyes as she moves with more desperation… more need.

Then—her skin shifts under my touch. Soft curves turn solid. Smooth flesh becomes rough. Soft moans dissolve into quiet grunts. The scent of jasmine and honey is replaced by cannabis and leather.

I keep my eyes closed as my fingers trail up his broad back… over the scars, the shifting muscles beneath his skin.

“Do you love me?” His voice is deep, hoarse, almost tender as his inked hand wraps around my neck. The grip is tight. Unyielding. Holding me in place.

“Do you love me?” he asks again, his tone sharpening, demanding an answer.

But I can’t speak.

My throat is locked. My breath won’t come. The question rings in my ears, an empty echo in my skull. Do I love him? I smile, despite the hand threatening to steal my very breath.

Love doesn’t existhere.

Empty. Void.

His grip tightens. His nose presses against mine. His breath heavy, suffocating. His voice morphs, blending into hers—soft yet cruel, sweet yet suffocating.

“DO YOU LOVE ME?” their voices demand. Two bodies. One voice. One need.

Fingers tighten around my throat. My head grows fuzzy. My lungs burn. My body trembles.

I open my eyes—but I don’t see him. His face is blurry, fading, dissolving into something softer. Something familiar. A gentler body. A crueler love.

I climax.

I blink, breathless, shaking. I look again—

She’s there.

My mother.

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