Page 92 of Never To Suffer

“Uhm, I dunno. Since I came in here to work and not be disturbed a few hours ago.”

“A few hours ago? Love, have you looked out the window?”

I pry my eyes from the paper long enough to see there’s no light coming in the room, but dive back into the writing. “Okay, so open the curtains.”

“They are open. Come on, you can’t be creative like this. Besides,” they say, unfolding another piece of paper from the floor. “You’re throwing away good stuff here. And murdering trees.”

“They’re in the notebook. They’re already dead. And that stuff sucks.”

“Is this one about Xander?”

“What?” I spin around in the chair and they’re standing there with their arms crossed. At their feet, wads of paper resemble a snowball fight in our room. At least a hundred sheets lay all over the room. “Shit.”

“Yeah, now put the pen down.”

“Skylar I just?—”

“Daniella, if you don’t put that pen down right now, I’m going to tie you to the bed so you can’t even touch your notebook. I’ll leave you like that to make you take a break and torture you at the same time.”

“You…wouldn’t?”

They raise an eyebrow, daring me to try them. Instead, I put the pen down with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Five minutes.”

“You’ve been in here for twelve hours, Beetle. You’re done for the night.” They sit on the bed, patting the spot next to them, so I trudge through the room, somehow avoiding any paper cuts on my bare feet. I flop down, letting my back bounce off the mattress.

“Need to talk?”

“No.”

“To anyone?”

“NO!”

They lay back, nuzzling the side of my head. “Not even Noah?”

I turn and look at them, my face scrunched up. Why would I need to talk to Noah? She’s handling all the postings on social media, which I’ve been sending her images for twice a week since Lexi taught me how to use a few programs.

“She has a notebook overflowing with songs. They’re solid. Some could use a bit of finesse from you, but they absolutely fit our style.

“Great. You already knowourstyle, so why don’t you help her clean them up?” I snap.

“If you want. I could.” They don’t take the bait, remaining calm and even. “If it helps you breathe.”

They’re doing that on purpose, ignoring my snarky responses and attitude. I turn my head and look at the desk, the pile of papers, the invisible clock ticking away as I lay here getting no work done.

I gasp at the cold metal of their rings when they take my face and turn it back toward them. They let go of my chin, letting their finger trail down my throat to my shirt, which they slowly unbutton down to my bra.

“Take it off,” they growl. I protest, but they give me that look. “Now. Or I rip it off, and you won’t like the consequences.”

I groan and sit up, reaching behind me and unhooking my bra and pulling off my shirt. Before I can ask what they want next, their warm breath kisses my spine seconds before they do. From my tailbone to between my shoulder blades, they move at their own pace. It’s how they force me to slow down, but I’m too far into this manic state for that to work.

“Take off your shorts, leave the panties. Get on the bed on your hands and knees.”

“Sky, I really—” my words are cut short by their hand around my throat, squeezing. That shouldn’t make me as wet as it does.

“Open your bratty mouth now.” I do, and they spit onto my tongue, pushing my mouth closed with one finger. “Swallow.”

Another thing that shouldn’t turn me on the way it does. Nothing they’ve done crosses a line. I’ve never even use the word to make them stop, only begging them for more, to take it farther.

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