What am I doing?
“So you believe me, you just can't let me see them?”Reuben mumbles in Spanish, and though I can’t understand, his voice still sharpens the fever inside me. He moves away from the door with a quiet curse, and when his footsteps recede down the hall, my stroking becomes wilder. My need is growing into this crescendo in my ears.
“Reuben.” His name leaves my mouth in a whisper and that scene is fluttering behind my eyes again. Of his cock deep inside some other guy in a church not too far away.
What the fuck have you done to me?
If I close my eyes, the ghost of him is there at my back. His scent still lingers in my nose. His voice is in my ears. His fingers are around my dick—
Suddenly, I’m chanting his name under my breath. Chasing a fever.
And it collides with the guilt of stroking Christian’s body. Of using his body like this. Of touching him while thinking about Reuben.
My first orgasm rips through me in a soundless gasp, a shot of ecstasy traveling through my spine from my core all the way to my head. My cum coats the door in spurts.
I’ve lost my mind. I can’t do this. Not as Christian Adler.
But the night is filled with thoughts of Reuben. Of my own new debauchery.
Until I’m greeting another morning with a sore dick and exhaustion tugging at my bones.
And the new realization that I’m so terribly and thoroughly fucked.
Chapter 18
Reuben
Christian’s avoided me ever since that night.
I wish I could say it doesn’t fuck with me but it does. It fucking does.
That night, it was as though I hadn’t just spent two days fucking Cameron senselessly.
God knows how much I wanted to kiss him. Override those hyper senses with pure sensations. But the moment I told him I could see emotions, he shut me out.
“Fucking—” I rub my hand over my face. I should just hold him down and fuck him.
“Mmgh—” A muffled voice breaks through my thoughts, and I fire two shots with an indifferent wave of my hand before looking up from my seat.
The two people on their knees before me tremble slightly. Their energies are a combination of fear and repulsion I’m used to, but today it’s just so… boring.
I sigh, “I’m not having a good day, guys.” I lean forward, ignoring the way they both shrink into themselves further. These two are my responsibility for the morning before I head out to rendezvous with the team—a woman with blonde hair wearing a navy-blue suit and a man with brown eyes in jeans and a blue tee. Siblings. Kneeling before me with their hands tied at their backs and tape across their mouths.
I use the barrel of the gun to raise the woman’s chin, and her face is only inches away as I hold her gaze. But then she’s turning away again, afraid to keep eye contact with me.
Boring, boring, boring.
“What about you, Josey, do you have bad days?” I tap the gun on her chin and each tap makes her flinch. She doesn’t speak again, she whimpers, and I have to hand it to her for not crying at least.
She’s worked for me for a long time.
She knows crying won’t work.
“I suppose you don’t,” I mutter absentmindedly.
Oh, what I wouldn’t kill to see Christian cry again. His tears and his energy were so pretty.
If I tied you up and made a mess of you, would you cry for me?
