Page 4 of Sick Like Me

“That’s it, you murderous little ghoul, strangle my fingers,” Cal huffs with an undertone of mockery, like we’re playing a game he thinks he’s just won.

But, despite the pleasure heating my lower belly, the cramp in my core muscles tightening and ricocheting all the way down to my bones, I’m having a mild panic. I think of the poison residue on my mouth, now on his, the empty vial of antidote squashed between my breasts.

I imagine the praise I’d receive, the third son to the Carnells, dead at my hands. They all think I’m disposable. The Stones.Myfamily.Because of the way my brain is wired. It’s why I was locked away for so long before being allowed out of the prison they call a home. They couldn’ttrustme to carry out my duties and behave like a normal person.

I had to earn myfreedom.

I’mstillearning my freedom.

Cal’s a teacher at the academy, the ballet master, fourteen years my senior, and everything I’m supposed to hate, so what does it matter if I kill him?

It’d work in my favour, earn me some points with my father.

Perhaps.

But now, right now, I think I might be about to lose my virginity to one of the people they hate the most, thatIshould hate the most, and even as I think of killing him, I don’t think I really could.

Caelus Carnell is the only person I have ever met that has never intentionally tried to hurt me. He’s the only person I ever give the time of day to. Speak to. Our passing pleasantries, these lingering private moments where it’s just the two of us in the dark, the quiet, are sometimes the only human interaction I get for weeks at a time. My teachers and peers, when I bother to attend any of my classes, don’t even seem to see me. I am nothing more than a ghost flitting through the halls.

A shiver runs up my spine as Caelus brings his drenched digits up into the scant space between us, his hand dangerously close to his mouth and mine. I can smell the slick of my arousal mixing with his skin, his dark, masculine scent intoxicating with the combined sharpness of me. Laying those dangerous, freckled, hazel eyes on mine, he sucks his fingers between his lips and wraps his tongue around them. His cheeks hollow, his pale pink lips tight, suctioned up to the knuckle, he devours my flavour off of his skin, groaning as he does.

I should stop this now, launching myself off of a jagged cliff’s edge, but when Cal’s mouth comes back to mine, twining his tongue over my own, I forget myself.

How to think.

How to breathe.

Instead, all I can do is feel as the head of his weeping cock presses against my wet cunt, one of his hand’s back on my fabric covered arse. The other curled beneath my left thigh, fingers splayed, thumb digging into the soft skin of my inner thigh, holding me open, my legs still wrapped around his waist.

“Ozzie,” he breathes the name over my mouth, he’s the only person to call me that, as though it’s just between us, like we’re more than meagre familiars. His lips pluck mine like delicate fingertips over harp strings, “Tell me you want this.”

He holds my gaze with the demand, his stare boring into me, waiting as his cock weeps fluid that sticks to the wet flesh of my pussy. I can hardly breathe as he looks at me, the tips of our noses brushing.

“I hate you,” I whisper instead, something I’m supposed to feel, perhaps saying it aloud, making sure he hears, it’ll make it real.

It’ll make this moment real.

Because, sometimes, these moments are not.

I’m not always here, even when I am, and to find my way back I have to bleed.

“I hate you too,” he breathes and then slams his cock inside of me.

Caelus pauses for just a second as he feels it, and then he forces himself through that tiny piece of resistance set high inside of me and fucks me like a wild beast.

He’s savage and raw and I clench around him like I’m trying to draw him in deeper and simultaneously force him out. He grunts as my forehead drops to his in a crash, our skullsknocking together, my hands clawing at his shoulder blades, the curves of bone sawing into the soft palms of my hands.

Caelus pounds into me ruthlessly, his pelvis grinding into my clit shooting little sparks of pleasure directly into the front of my skull. His hands simultaneously hold me up whilst tearing me apart, he fucks me just like he said. With hate. And I realise this is what I need.

This feeling.

Caelus’ hate for me is so intense it’s the first real thing I think I’ve ever felt.

It’s heady, this sudden burst of intense emotion.

“Harder,” I demand in a breathless whisper as my bottom lip trembles, a groan filling my throat that I try to fight, the taste as forbidden on my tongue as Caelus’ flavour. “Make me hurt,”so I can feel.“I hate you,” I tell him again, my voice wobbly, trying to block out everything but this.

“I’m going to make you fucking bleed,” he hisses into my ear before his teeth snap down on my earlobe and sink into the flesh.

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