Page 54 of Fragmented Illusions
I let myself fall backwards horizontally across my bed so my feet are still resting on the floor.
One.
You have a choice.
Two.
You never wanted one.
Three.
I let the sounds and feelings fill my head again as I take another deep, shuddering breath. The feel of their hands; cool leather, and hot, calloused warmth. So contrasting, but both so good. Their breaths, heavy but steady. Their mouths licking and biting at my flesh.
My own breath hitches in my lungs as my hand brushes against my lower stomach, just underneath my waistband, much like they did. I can feel Creepy’s cum dried on me, pulling my skin taut in places, but I welcome the odd sensation. I brought him to that point—Silent and I both did.
I pressed my lips to his and let his mouth eat me alive. Our tongues thrashed together, and his erection twitched in my hand as he spilled against my skin.
A whimper tears through me as my hand pushes into my pants. My fingers skim the raised skin over my pubic bone, the S evident even without laying my eyes on it. I try to force anger about the fact they scarred me for life, but I simply can’t. I can’t bring myself to care about anything other than what I feel anymore.
And what I feel is elated. I feel euphoric. I don’t care they’re murderers. There are worse people out there. I know for a fact there are—I have met them. I’velivedwith them. And maybe these men can help keep them at bay better than I ever could.
My fingers slide through my swollen folds, and I whimper at how tender I am to the touch. My entire center feels hot and swollen and so wet. I clench around nothing as I think about leather and heat and two bodies pressed against me, devouring every inch of me.
I push three of my fingers into myself at once, needy for the feeling they gave me. I bite my bottom lip at the bite of pain that pulses through me, but instead of pulling back, I shove them further inside of me. I rip them out and plunge them back in again and again.
Tears trail down my cheeks, adding more heat to my already scorching skin, at the pain ripping through my body—the pain I’m forcing myself to feel. Because maybe, if I make myself feel nothing but the pain like I always felt before, then I can stop craving them.
I’m so confused. I want them but I know it will kill me to have them.
Men like them are poison. Pure toxicity running through their veins, seeking anyone and anything to seep their toxins into. And I fell for it. I truly did and now I’m in so fucking deep despite it all that I crave them like an addict.
They terrify me beyond all sense of reason and yet, their presence makes my heart race to the point I can feel it ricocheting off of my ribs, battering and bruising the lonely organ and my fragile bones. They make my blood run so hot; I can feel it burning me from the inside out.
But worst of all… is what they do to my mind. They take every inner demon I keep locked up tight and shatter their confines into nothing—as if it never existed to begin with. But even worse than that is I don’t notice until I’m alone and I have to force all of the irreparable pieces back into an even smaller box than before. And every time, it becomes increasingly difficult—and right now, as I lie here in my bed, vilely enjoying the painful fire licking through my veins, I know without a doubt I don’t want to anymore.
The instant rush of euphoria they bring washes over me like a tidal wave so massive, I instantly swallow every drop of water that floods my mouth, because I know death is inevitable and the rush to get there is too great to overcome.
In fact, I don’t want to overcome it. Iwelcomeit. Need it.
The question is, who will I become when it’s all said I done?
My eyes roll back into my head as my release hits me out of nowhere. I shudder and whimper quietly through it and when I slowly pull my fingers out, a sharp cry rings out. I bite my bottom lip so hard the tang of blood pools on my tongue. My eyes burn with tears caused from either the pain or my release, I’m not sure, but they keep trailing down my face anyway.
My core throbs painfully as I rest my hands on my stomach and let the memories of tonight flicker through my head like a movie once more.
A movie I hope I can replay as many times as I wish—or maybe repeat.
Solomon
“You fucked up, Spence,” I berate him as I wear a path into the wooden floor of our room at this annoyingly loud frat house. The party is still raging downstairs but after Fallon left, Spencer and I came in here because he knew he fucked up—we just couldn’t say anything in front of Fallon.
“I know.Fuck. I’m sorry,” he whines. I dart my gaze over to him—sure to keep my blank expression in place—and his eyes are wide with fear and apprehension. I have never been this fucking angry with him before. I’m fuming at the colossal mistake he made. A mistake that can ultimately ruin everything.
His actions tonight prove Fallon is a weakness. Not only his weakness, but mine as well. Because in the moment when he uttered my name, my cock fuckinggushed.I came so fucking hard inside of my boxers, it was almost impossible to keep myself upright, let alone finish what we started. Having her body pressed against mine and my name on Spencer’s lips…
I had never felt anything so good in my entire life. Not that I ever feel much of anything—other than the bone deep relief I get when I take someone’s final breath. But I have a feeling tonight was only the start.
The beginning of the end, if you will.
