Page 87 of My Lovely Tragedy
What could he possibly need? Did I do something wrong—is he hurt… more than he should be?
His nails scrape along my forearms, scoring my flesh and leaving red-hot trails of ripped skin. I hiss but don’t move. I watch their paths form, Brooklyn’s blood-crusted nails taking their own path. Down along the backs of my hands, even following the length of my fingers.
His back arches off the sofa when I curl my fingertips around his, accepting his assault with open arms.
My own breath comes in short bursts, and my head swims deliciously. Brooklyn’s inconsolable, head whipping back and forth, sending long, silky gold tendrils soaring through the air. They stick to his sweat and tear-soaked face, obscuring his vision—or it would if his eyes were open.
“Please. Pleasepleaseplease,” he pleads over and over, the words raspy and clogged with snot and tears. Small and whispered and laced with anguish.
“Darling, tell me what you need.Please.” My own words are choked, desperation filling me.Lacerating me.
“Need.” He scrambles for purchase along my shoulders, yanking me toward him. I fall against his chest, catching myself just before our heads collide.Maybe that would have been better.
“Please. Just need. C-can’t—” His mouth covers my Adam’s apple, hot and wet and messy. Teeth sink into the cartilage just beneath my flesh, and I roar in pain, jerking back on instinct. Brooklyn’s teeth sink deeper, refusing to let me go.
I grit my teeth through the pain, panting as white blobs dot my vision, flashing in distorting waves. And then… white-hoteuphoria.
Brooklyn’s mouth encloses fully, head angled to suck as much skin into his mouth as he can. Tongue swiping wet and painful over the wound, igniting a fresh twinge. The pain melts into something deeper, something enshrouded and brought anew.
I groan deep and low. Head swimming, fingers tingling. Brooklyn mouths at me, drawing heavy pulses to the skin where they throb incessantly before he drags his lips to a new spot along my flesh. Just below my jaw, along my trapezius, and back up.
His marks draw more attention to his other painful points of connection. His heels, still digging into the base of my spine. Thighs flexed tightly around my waist. Chains dragging heavily over my skin, pinching sections of flesh between the links as he moves.
But more than all that put together is the heat radiating from his groin pressed sharply into mine. Hips colliding with every thrust.Burning me alive.
Understanding slowly dawns in every turbulent thump of my heart from where it beats along every inch of my skin. In his chest. On his tongue.
I catch his wrists as he begins to claw at my shoulders and bring them down. I lift my chest from his to pin his hands between us, both delicacies encased by my fingers. The fragile bone grinds and creaks under the pressure, making my head swim deliciously.
Scarlet stains his pale flesh, the color deepened by the darkness shrouding us. As if the shadows know and they’re allowing such depravities to occur because God only knows, this never could happen in the clarity of light.
I would never allow myself such a perversion when I would be forced to confront it beforehand.
No. All debauchery bleeds into the umbra.
Brooklyn’s lips part in a silent gasp, and his swollen eyelids crack open. He blinks, and I watch the rise and fall of his wet eyelashes with renowned fascination. Each exhale is warm—too warm. My face is aflame, and it sinks uncomfortably—unknown—into my stomach, where it pools out and down.
He holds my gaze like it’s his tether. The only thing keeping him here—to me.With me.
I latch onto the flash of desperation with every tooth in my jaw. And as his tongue swipes out over a smear of blood along his upper lip, I sink into that paper-thin bind, uncaring that a single tug could send me into oblivion.
I catch his chin between my fingers and pinch—hard enough to make him wince. I yank down, forcing his mouth open, giving me a clear view inside the dark cavern of the entrance to his body.
His maw.
The very thing that formulates such beautiful and crass words. A mouth that has broken me and filled me and tainted me. Filled with sorrows and promises unsaid.
I’m a whisper away. Our air becomes one. I taste his heat on my tongue, warm and spicy and heady.
My vision hazes over. His eyes roll back. I pull away, chest heaving.
He waits, plaint and waiting and needy.
So perfect.
But I cannot take that from him.
I don’t deserve it.
