Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
My mouth hovered over Ily’s. Our lips parted, breaths mingling.
All it would take was a tip of my chin and I’d claim yet another piece.
A kiss.
A wet, deep, vicious kiss.
But…something stopped me.
Our eyes locked, scattering the urge and giving me a far more urgent one.
I begged to see her cry.
I wanted to drink down her sadness just like I’d drunk down her essence.
I needed her to cry.
To complete my transformation and ensure I never forgot just how untouchable I was. How utterly invincible I was now that I was me. The true me. The monster I could never quite tame.
Even as I thrust into her hard and fast, and her eyes glowed with unwanted pleasure, she withheld her grief. For the first time since we’d met, she had control over her sorrow, and it fucked me off that she denied me.
The longer I stared at her, the quicker our bodies collided.
Her teeth clamped into her bottom lip, and my forehead crashed on hers as I threw every shred of my hell-damned soul into this.
This moment of absolute awakening.
I’d never been so profoundly, so painfully aroused.
So aware of everything.
Every slide and slip. Every ripple and flutter. Every grunt and gasp.
No thoughts. No ethics. Nothing to ruin the absolute perfection of this moment.
So many layers of freedom.
So many levels of release.
Ah fuck.
That word triggered another release.
One that’d haunted me since the moment I’d first punctured Ily’s virgin skin.
Blinding, brutalizing pleasure shot down my spine and curdled between my legs. Tighter, stronger, it festered in my belly, snarling to obliterate.
I held off for as long as I could.
I rode Ily for as long as possible.
I never wanted to leave this nirvana.
But as Ily struggled and her voice once again slipped into a language I couldn’t understand, I was no longer the Master but at my monster’s mercy.
My shoulders rolled. My breath caught. My entire body quaked with sweet, savage agony. I roared as my balls tightened, cock thickened, and jets of crippling, consuming rhapsody shot out of me.
Ily cried out as I spilled inside her.
Her eyes closed as I jerked and shivered in the throes of the best fucking orgasm of my life.
I couldn’t breathe as I kept twitching, totally consumed with how liberating it was to come with blood on my tongue and truth in my twisted heart.
All other climaxes paled.
None of them ever granted me such transcendent peace.
As the last pulse of my pleasure subsided and I focused slowly on the room full of a thousand dead creatures, I froze, just for a second.
A familiar second.
One where my tongue turned sour, just waiting for nausea to pounce.
I tensed against the noxious sickness that always made me pay.
But…nothing.
Blissful, wonderful nothing.
For the first time in my godforsaken life, my stomach growled for a different reason. Not to throw up the awful things I’d done but to fucking celebrate.
Hunger shakes caught me unaware.
My body chose that exact moment to make me stumble beneath starvation.
With a grunt, I withdrew from Ily and tripped away from the cross.
Keeping her eyes on the floor, she drew her free leg to her other, contorting her body to an uncomfortable angle as she crossed her ankles and snapped her thighs together.
Despite her best efforts to hide, she couldn’t stop the creamy white trail of my semen leaking out of her.
My cock twitched in pride.
My chest swelled with ownership.
I’d walked into this room a pathetic shadow of my true self, and now…with Ily’s blood staining my body and my cum staining hers, I felt complete.
Grabbing my trousers from where I’d kicked them off, I slipped them up and fastened the zipper. With a satisfied sigh, I turned to face Victor.
He stood beside the backgammon table that’d been righted from me crashing into it. Fresh platters of food waited, summoning me to devour. He saluted me with an onion tartlet. “Well done.”
I tipped my chin and stalked toward him.
I couldn’t ignore the urge to eat anymore.
Snagging a salt-encrusted cracker with what looked like duck pâte and some microgreens, I shoved it into my mouth. The booze in my system was a distant memory.
“How does it feel?” Victor asked quietly, throwing a look at Peter who kneeled by Victor’s feet. “Are you finally free?”
Bracing myself, I sank my teeth into another delicious morsel and chewed.
I waited.
I swallowed.
I searched inside for that debilitating nausea, daring it to creep over me and make me vomit all over Victor’s lambskin slippers.
Still nothing.
My shoulders rolled with such fucking gratefulness, I almost stumbled.
Did this mean I’d never have to puke up my rotten guts anymore?
That all I had to do to find a cure was stride over that mythical line I’d always avoided?
Perhaps my constant state of sickness had been yet another symptom of my denial?
It seemed so.
It felt so.
And slowly, the biggest smile of my life spread my lips.