Messed up my tablecloth, but I appreciated the sentiment.
I did make sure to spread him across that ruined tablecloth and edge him until he was crying.
And even then, I didn’t let him get off.
My cock thickens when I think of the way his pale skin flushed under my torture. The way he begged. How red his ass was when I was through with it.
I reach down and adjust myself, feeling pleasure wash through my groin and making my stomach clench.
I could tie him up while he sleeps and stuff his throat with my dick. Make him swallow every last drop I give him.
The thought sets me aflame, my entire body growing warm with the thought.
He’d let me. He always wants what I give, and he takes it so well.
But I don’t. It’s the reason I haven’t fucked him despite his blood work coming back negative. I’ve only ever played with him. I’ve never done more than that.
I won’t let myself.
I think about the way he opens up when he’s bending to my will. The things I want to know about him come spilling out. All I have to do is ask, and he abides.
He told me about Henry, the one who taunts him, the one who hurt his friends. He’s still out there, and he needs to be dealt with. But there’s another figure. Someone worse. Someone evil. A darkness that lurks within him and makes itself known in the catacombs.
I want to know more, want to crawl inside his mind and look for myself. But his memories come in bits and pieces. He says this man doesn’t have a face. Or a name.
He’s just the devil.
D’yavol.
But even he can burn.
Bane shifts more and ends up sprawled out across my chest, his face tucked into my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He murmurs something that I can’t make out as one of his hands slides through my hair. Tingles burst across my scalp and down my neck.
He shouldn’t be touching. I never allow people to touch me. But he is now.
I like it more than I should.
I think back to the day he reached out and slipped his fingers through mine, holding my hand for a long minute before I pulled away…
My eyes close as I relive it. The hurt on his face, the way his lips fell when he realized I didn’t want to touch him.
But he has no idea.
He has no clue what I’m battling. What I’ve been through.
I don’t feel. I don’t let myself. And so this needs to end.
Tomorrow.
I’ll stop this tomorrow. And then I’ll use all my free time to find the men who have hurt him.
And I’ll cut them apart.
8
BANE
Iwake up alone. Georgiy is nowhere to be found. I must have fallen asleep after all. But with his body against me, I didn’t remember. I didn’t dream.
