Page 46 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

My balls tighten and heat pools in my core, but I don’t ask as I pump slower and slower, taking it all in. Memorizing this moment and filling him with me just as he had done to me. . My body shudders. Not from release—but from loss.

He kicks me off, my dick ripped from his ass as he forces me to the ground.

“My turn,” he says before slamming into me, using the cum slipping from his ass as lube. His eyes are wide, wild. Not triumphant. Not cruel. Just… desperate.

He fucks me until there’s nothing left of us except destruction and darkness. Not two bodies. Not two men. Just a grave made of skin and teeth and ruin.

Chapter Twenty Four

Ren

Icollapse beside Byron, the floor sticky with grime, my body sweaty and spent, but I couldn’t stop the grin of satisfaction spreading across my face. The sweat on my chest cools too fast against the cold floor, but I don’t move. I just stare at my Thorn. The sun illuminates the contour of his body, making him shine in this ethereal golden hue, like some fallen god dipped in gold.

“Why are you smiling? It’s weird,” he says, his sleepy voice doing something to me. It’s raspy, thick with exhaustion, and it slides over my skin like a hand I didn’t ask for but don’t want to let go of. But all I can do islay back, spent, while this warm, fuzzy, and unfamiliar feeling, almost like static fuzz, rattles through my chest where the void usually lives.Is this joy? Happiness maybe? A lie I can breathe in like a drug?

The birds chirp from outside the window, but under that, there’s the sound of his breath. Steady. Real. I don’t answer Byron, instead I turn my body towards him grabbing him by the waist and pulling him towards me. Holding him. Welcoming the muscles, the body hair, and the scent of him—sex, sweat, and something that smells like safety, but feels like a trap I want to fall into anyway.

“Ren,” he begins, but I bring my finger to his lips, soft and warm like it’s never been touched by blood.

“Shhh. Don’t ruin the moment. For one second, let’s play pretend. Let’s pretend this isn’t ruin. That there’s hope. That I am not Ren and you’re not Byron. We are just existing.” The words almost break in my throat because they feel like a wish, and I don’t get those. Not anymore.

If I only get this moment with him of whatever this is—I want to indulge in it. I want to consume it. I want to burn it into me so the void has something to choke on. I want to feel the warmth of his light, even if it’s temporary. I want to believe the sun is touching me, not passing through. I’m so tired of the void. So tired of it chewing holes in me, of it dragging me back every time I try to reach for something beautiful.

Byron doesn’t pull away. That’s the part that kills me, even though I know part of him wants to pull away. He lets me, even when he shouldn’t.

Closing my eyes, I breathe him in, trying to fight the feeling of warmth and comfort, but my body relaxes. The sun rays cover us, and the steady rhythm of his breathing lulls me into tranquility. My eyes finally close... my body drifting to sleep, to a place where this can be a reality... to a place where I am not a monster and he isn’t my victim.

For the first time, I drift off. Real sleep. The kind I forgot existed. The kind I haven’t felt since I was too small to beworth hurting.

The sound of clapping erupts through the room—slow, loud claps. My body flings to action before my brain has time to catch up. My heartslams against my ribs, and for a split second, I can’t tell if I’m still dreaming—if this is a memory, punishment, or something worse.

Beside me, Byron rises like the dead, like a vicious dog ready to attack.

“Look, you were all worried about your brother,” Kevin teases, yanking someone by the hair.

He’s standing in the doorway like he’s walked in on a private joke, shoulders loose, face smug, like he’s proud of himself. Smiling. Enjoying this. Then I follow Byron’s line of sight, blinking away the sleep, and my eyes register the woman beside him—browneyes wide open, brown skin, long brown hair... Gabriela.

She shakes her head in disbelief. She can’t scream. Gagged. Bound. Forced to witness her brother’s depravity.

Byron goes to move, but my hand moves to his chest. “No.”

Mascara runs down her bloody face, a cloth is wrapped around her mouth, and her hands bound to front of her chest. She’s still wearing a pink nightgown,so he must have grabbed her in a surprise move… Fucking cockroach.

Byron’s chest rises beneath my palm, his body trembling. His face has gone pale—eyes wide, not with shock but with shame.

“Kevin?” I ask, already understanding his game and regretting letting myself play right into it. Right into his opportunistic trap.

This isn’t a warning. It’s bait. He wants me to crack. I should have killed him when I had the chance. But I guess now is as good a time as any.

Kevin laughs. “You don’t get to ask questions or make demands. Let’s just say the cops got a nice tip, and I’m here to collect before shit hits the fan.”

He leans into Gabriela and licks her face. “This right here is insurance,” he says, focusing back on Gabriela, who shivers at his touch. “You were fun and such a good girl.”

The gun traces her jaw, and she looks at her brother. There’s no anger—only worry, relief even, but no disgust. Only love.

“Let her go,” Byron’s voice cuts through the tension as he slaps my hand away, slowly rising to his feet. I follow behind, ready to intervene. Not that I cared to save anyone besides myself, but right now, Kevin is a fucking threat. I needed to kill him and get the fuck away, and I wasn’t leaving my Thorn behind even if I have to rip him from his Rose.

“You can have the money, but I have to show you where I buried it.”

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