Page 90 of Saint

Fuck, I need her. I don’t need people, but she sees me for who I really am.

Her nails dig into my back as I hit her at another angle, and her entire body starts to shake. An earthquake that squeezes my cock and begs for my cum. So I give it to her. I bite her throat and empty myself into her pussy.

Every drop until I pull back and kneel between her legs and hold them open.

“What are you doing?” She’s out of breath, panting.

“Admiring you.”

My cum drips out of her onto the bed. Her pussy is red and puffy from how hard I’ve fucked it. She should be spread out in a museum just like this. The most beautiful sight.

Control.

I’ve lost it.

29

Trust

Violet

Every word I typein my criminal psychology essay is proof I’m a hypocrite because all I do is excuse Kole’s actions every other second of the day.

I spend so much time telling myself it’s his overbearing family’s fault that he is the way he is, wishing I believed it. I tell myself it’s his sick fraternity’s fault. I want it to be everyone’s fault but his own.

But it isn’t.

People experience terrible things every day, and they don’t act out the way Kole does. They don’t hurt people.They don’t kill them.

Nothing can absolve him of what he’s done for me.

But when he held me in his arms last night, I wasn’t scared. I was safe.

And through all his wrongdoings and morally irredeemable actions, I wanted him anyway.

This must be how exposure therapy works—subject yourself to the behavior long enough, and you become numb to it. You justify it.

Worse,you desire it.

We were up half the night tangled together between bouts of sleeping. Kissing, sex, talking. It’s not supposed to be like this—I’m not supposed to feel like this. So why can’t I seem to help it?

The library doors open, and Patience, Teal, and Mila walk through them. I’ve avoided them most of the day. And while I told myself it was so I could finish this paper that’s due tomorrow, the truth is I’m not sure how to face them with everything that happened between me and Kole over the weekend.

I can barely look in the mirror, much less at my friends.

“Should have known we’d find you here.” Mila stops beside me and looks over my shoulder at what I’m writing, reading it aloud.“Her doctor indicated she displayed signs of hybristophilia. She thought he could change. Or that for her, he would—"

I slap my laptop shut. “Don’t read that. It’s not done.”

“That was just getting interesting.” She pouts, leaning back. “What’s hybristophilia?”

“Someone obsessed with criminals,” Patience answers her.

“Not obsessed.” I shake my head, not sure why I’m so defensive when Patience is right.

Mila’s face scrunches in disgust as she drops into the seat next to me. “You study the weirdest shit.”

She’s not wrong, but she also doesn’t know the half of it.

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