A mix of lust and anger swirls in his gaze when we lock eyes. He points toward my oversized bag in the corner of my room, stuffed full of clothes.
“Start packing your shit,” he commands coldly.
My mouth drops, utterly incredulous and quickly descending into a state of denial.
No, no, no.
There’s.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
He’sactuallygoing to leave me like this?
My vision blackens, and for several moments, I try to make sense of what the hell is happening. I'm so thunderstruck, I can only watch him redress in stunned silence. He packs away the Fleshlight in his bag and zips it up. The sharp metallic noise knocks me out of the weird daze I'd fallen into.
He takes another step back, a severe expression on his face.
“You insisted on sleeping alone, so you can come alone, too,” he says, nodding toward my throbbing core. “I'll see you when you get home.”
“You cannot be serious,” I say breathlessly, finally registering the existence of my limbs again and that they can move.
I sit up as he heads toward the hallway, his backpack slung over his shoulder. I sputter, and just as I go to scramble from the bed, he pauses at the entrance to the hallway, settling icy crystalline eyes on me.
There isn’t a single trace of lust remaining. In its place is anger and—fuck, a hint of hurt again.
“Nevermake me come find you again, Reverie.” It's beyond a threat, an ominous promise that settles in my stomach like curdled milk.
Before I can get a word out, he disappears down the hallway and out of the room. I startle as the door slams behind him.
Still bewildered, I stare blankly at the empty space he filled only seconds prior. My core is pulsing, I’m fucking breathless from the vacuum he created in the room, and my heart is beating a million miles a minute.
My hand drifts over my mouth as I try to process what the hell just happened.
Holy fucking shit.
He’s a goddamn psychopath. Completely unhinged. The man is better suited in a prison.
Yet, I slowly slip my hand between my thighs, my breath hitching as I collect his cum leaking from my pussy and slide my middle finger over my swollen, neglected clit.
My head drifts back as my legs widen, and the pleasure renews. It’s not as potent as it is when Dread’s inside me, but it’s so much better thannothing at all.
After Icome… then I’ll pack.
Because I’m going back to him.
And I guess that makes me a fucking psycho, too.
CHAPTER 22
DREAD
Kaitlin Cosgrove would probably have a pretty signature if she wasn’t shaking so hard.
Her best friend, Hannah Troutman, sits beside her and signs her own contract, shaking like a leaf as well.
