But heroin is a heaven that rapidly turns into a hell. Your salvation becomes your prison—bars that lock you down as you watch yourself lose your entire life.
Friends. Family. Your pride. Your dignity. Your interest in doing anything butmore fucking heroin.
I slowly inhale, forcing myself to look at myself.
Most people don’t make it back from that trip to the dark side.
I did.
I survived. Ilived. Fate whispered that I could not withstand the storm, and I shouted back that Iamthe goddamn storm.
So this shit with Bane?
I grimace.
Let him do whatever he wants. It won’t break me. Whatever he’s got up his sleeve… I’ve survived worse.
I shower in the upstairs bathroom off my sleeping area. Then I pull on some cozy sleep shorts and a hoodie and sit cross-legged on my bed. I open the laptop, reading the list of kinks again, my face growing hotter.
I know there’s a strong possibility that I get turned on by fucked-up stuff like rape fantasies, or being tied down with my control taken away, or a free use kink—which, yes, is exactly what it sounds like—because of what I lived through back in that room.
I know that ordeal probably rewired me. Rearranged “things that are bad” and “things that I want” in my head.
Iknowthis. It doesn’t change the fact that Idoget turned on by this shit.
A lot.
I close the laptop, turn off the lights, and sink back against the pillows.
And my sick, twisted brain comes awake.
My mind replays the mix of shame and pure arousal I felt when he made me bend over and spread myself open to his gaze. Ishiver at the memory of his lips brushing my ear, and his deep rasping voice purring against my neck.
The feel of his big hand on me, cupping my fucking pussy…
Desire bubbles and ripples under my skin. My thighs squeeze together, and—God help me—I feel the seep of wet heat pooling in my core.
My breath hitches as I slide my hands over my body to my breasts, the fingers of one hand finding a pebbled nipple under the cotton. I pinch it hard, biting back a sharp gasp as pain and pleasure erupt inside me. I pinch again, twisting the aching nipple as I squeeze my thighs tight together and roll my hips.
I know. I’m a fucked-up disaster.
So fucking what.
My hand slides lower, pulling up the hem of my hoodie. My fingers tease across my stomach, pushing lower until they slip into my shorts and beneath the lacy edge of my panties.
I’m…wet. Embarrassingly so.
So wet that my panties are fucking soaked. My eyes drift closed, my breath catching as I toy with my nipple and push two fingers through my silky wet lips. I moan softly as I roll them over my swollen clit, my hips rocking as I grind against my fingers, thinking of?—
Abruptly, like I’ve just had cold water dumped over me, I jerk my hand back out of my shorts.
A harsh, sobering thought slams into me as I smash my hands down onto the bed.
Shoot me now. I was about to start fantasizing aboutBane.
And I don’t care how much of a train wreck I am, I’m notthatbad.
I exhale harshly, kicking back the covers to slide under them. I tug the duvet up to my chin, my heart still hammering in my chest as I try to slow my breathing.
