Page 50 of Lonely
I didn’t know when the music had stopped playing, but it was silent now.
A splash of red caught my eye. I shifted the plastic out of the way and removed her fire-red heels.
I had always liked those, even when I didn’t.
Next up was her ankle bracelet. I studied the little heart pendant. They were just items, but they were loud items.
They had always screamed.
I stood up and placed her heels beside my boots on the shoe rack. The splash of color looked good in my dull house.
After slipping her ankle bracelet into my pocket, I carried the bucket into the bathroom and peeled off my clothes.
The porcelain was cold beneath my feet as I stepped into the bath and lay down with a groan, my muscles aching from the strain.
Raising the bucket, I poured it slowly over my head. Warm blood washed down my body, slick and heavy, slipping between my lips as I tilted my face to the ceiling.
The bucket clattered to the floor. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stared at the mess I’d made of myself.
My long cock rested against my stomach, smeared with blood and throbbing. I wet my lips, tasting the coppery tang, as I stroked myself in long, languid pulls, drawing pleasure from my body with each tug.
Fuck . . .
“Jezebel,” I whispered, reaching down to cup my testicles with my free hand, feeling the coarse, wet hairs beneath my fingers.
My body jerked, and I moaned, afloat in a river of velvet death. My heart pounded so hard that it might break free from my chest, but none of that held a candle to the dizzying euphoria.
I felt her everywhere. She was on my tongue, tangy yet so fucking sweet. She was beneath my nails, in my butt crack, and seeping into my eyes.
I’d always known she’d be this good for me. I knew it the moment I saw her smile on herfirst day at Wellard.
That night, I’d jerked off, imagining this moment.
Her blood on my cock and balls . . . on my chest and everywhere.
Cum rained over my chest in thick ropes, creamy white against all that dark red, and I shuddered.
The blood was growing cold against my sweaty skin, but I was burning up.
The Devil taunted me from the corner of the room where the doors to Hell were wide open behind him.
Anna was there, curling her finger at me.
“Mommy wants to play.”
“Iabsolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” Father O’Neil said through the mesh.
But his voice shook, and I heard him swallow.
Some truths were better left unspoken.
I’d always hated confessionals. While I felt unseen elsewhere, I didn’t here. God knew everything.
Fingering the ankle bracelet, I hesitated. Did I even want forgiveness anymore? When I’d passed through the commonarea earlier at work, Carter glared at me again, and my heart flipped.
Sin set my soul aflame.
Prayer suffocated it.
