Page 7 of Fragile Lives
“Oh, I am.” I laugh. “I can’t wait to see where this is going.”
“Fucker.” A loud groan follows, and I instantly begin liking the guy. “I know you’re coming here tomorrow for dinner at our parents’, but I was wondering if you could come tonight.”
“Why?”
“I need you to be somewhere to wait for…” I can almosthearhim thinking, “us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, myself, Justin, and another dude.”
This is getting more interesting by the second, especially as the woman next to me places her hand between her legs, letting out quiet little moans.
“Do I want to know why I need to meet you all there?” I ask, eyeing the show at my side. “Considering I can’t fuckin’ stand that blond asshole.”
“No one does. But they need—weneed—an alibi.”
I push from the pillows, swinging my legs over the bed to sit, forgetting about the woman in my bed. “Why would you need that?”
“Look,” a deep sigh, “the only reason I called you is because Alex talks about you like you hang the moon and fuckin’ stars, and I need someone not from around here who can keep his mouth shut, and I thought you could be that someone.” He groans as if he’s tired of trying to reason with me and says, “You know what? Never mind, forget it.”
I know he’s about to hang up, so I rush to reply, “I’ll be there. Text me the address.”
There’s a weighted silence before he speaks. “Alright. Thanks. I don’t know when I’ll need you there, but I strongly suspect that it might be tonight. I’ll text you the time as soon as I’m sure.”
“Copy that,” I say before hanging up. Interesting. There are not many people I’ll do anything for, but Alex is one of them, and that means his family too.
A second later, my phone chimes with a text containing the address of a bar in one of Little Hope’s neighboring towns. I check the drive time: about four hours, and with the snowy roads it might be longer. It’s currently nine in the morning.
I still have time for a quickie.
Lying back in bed and turning to the brunette, I gently pat her shoulder. She turns around to kiss me, but I press my finger to her lips before she can. “No kissing, babe. That’s the deal, and you know that.”
She pouts and pushes on my shoulders, and I don’t know why she acts so scandalized—I’m always open and strict with myrules: no kissing, no morning snuggles, no heartwarming hugs. I like a warm body next to me just like any other man, but it needs to benextto me, not on me, beside me, or any other variation. Don’t get me wrong, I like said variations during the fun activities, but not after.
When I’m on my back, she climbs on top of me. I smile, ready for a good time.
If not for my flaccid cock. The gorgeous brunette—Jannette? Jaqueline?—pushes her boobs into my face, and still nothing. She moves over me, and nothing.Fuck, here we go again.I slightly push her back and lean over to the nightstand. Opening the drawer, I pull my knife out. Her eyes go round, and I rush to calm her down.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s not for you.”
She lets out a relieved breath but watches me warily.
I flip the knife so the handle is pointing toward her and offer it. “Take it.”
She takes it carefully, and I grab her hand, guiding her toward my chest. “Now, cut it.”
Shocked, she looks from me to my chest and licks her lips. I think she’s about to bolt when her eyes turn hungry, and she presses the blade into my skin, cutting it.
“More,” I rasp, and she presses harder. The pain is familiar and welcoming. Now, my dick stirs, and I grab the condom, ready for action. That’s another rule I always follow—always dress up. Never in my life did I go in raw, nor do I plan to.
As she makes another cut, going a lot deeper this time, I think about how it’s getting more difficult to feel anything without pain with every passing day. When will I reach my limit?
It’s seven in the evening when I park at the Dancing Pony, the Little Hope bed-and-breakfast. Getting my overnight bag out, I walk to the door. A slim elf-like woman with her ever-present long, fake ears greets me at the reception desk. She’s the owner of this place. Emma has only ever been nice to me, a real ray of sunshine. But today, she greets me with a concerned frown.
“Archie, I’m so sorry! Your room got a radiator leak. It’ll take a couple days to fix.”
“Bummer. I’m okay with any room.”
