Turned on making me feel good…
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest at the thought of never having this again. Of this beingit.
He’s just fuckin’ perfect.
“Where’d y-you go?” he asks, and I blink out of my reverie, disoriented as the room comes back into focus.
“Nowhere, treat. I’m right here,” I tell him as I stare down at him, thumb rubbing the tears and sweat from the corner of his eye.
“Static…” he breathes, and I feel it. The shift in the room. The poignant moment ofthis is it.
And it hurts.
“Tell me, darlin’,” I beg of him. I need him to say it because I can’t take this from him. Anything but this.
“Please,” is all he says, but for the first time, it’s not good enough.
I squeeze my eyes shut as my cock twitches from the pleading sound. They roll back into my head. “I need more than that,” I rasp, hating the desperation in my voice.
The tension in the room peaks.
And then, I feel movement against me.
Madison is standing on two shaky legs. His body slides against mine as he uses me to regain his balance. His clammyhands find respite on my biceps as he stands before me, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes. Not without knowing what’s going to happen next.
He could reject me—which seems like the most probable option.
Who the fuck would want to fuck the psycho, obsessive clown?
Certainly not the perfect little angel…
“Static…” I feel his breath against my chest, and I shiver.
“Darlin’.”
“I’m scared,” he confesses, and I can’t help but chuckle as his admission breaks some of the tension that has built between us. “What’s funny?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused, and I shake my head, still laughing lightly.
“You, treat. You’re just… perfect.”
“I’m not,” he argues, and I disagree, but I don’t tell him that. I know he’ll never agree, but that’s okay. I’ll tell him every day forever until it sticks in his skull that he is.
My lips brush the top of his head.
And then, I stop breathing.
Tell him…
Every day…
Forever…
Fuck…
Fuck.
I’m in deep. Way too deep.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
