Chapter 57
Davian
A Tortured Sinner
Lose My Mind
Dean Lewis
Pathetic. That didn't even begin to describe how I felt as I furiously crossed out the lines I had written to Quill like a lovesick poet, crumpled the paper, and threw it to the other twenty-three that I would definitely have to burn later.
How could I apologize for something that had been inevitable and yet felt so wrong and cold-hearted?
Everything about drawing that line for both of us had been morally right. Finally voicing what was necessary to keep us emotionally apart.
But the moment I had forced those words past my lips, the moment her eyes had turned into fragmented lakes of glass, it had been over for me.
Remorse pulsed through me, becoming one with the rising self-loathing.
She didn't deserve that. From the beginning, she deserved better than my company.
She was perfect. But what good was that realization if I wasn't allowed to show her? How incredibly perfect this woman was...
My words in Arnold's office had been those of a cowardly fool. And even if I deserved this devastating concern for her well-being as a consequence, Quill didn't deserve to go to sleep with my words in her head. Not with those words...
Dinner had felt like a disaster. Neither had I had the chance to apologize to Quill, nor had my daughter spoken to me as if something had happened and she didn't want to talk about it.
After three unsuccessful attempts to start a conversation with the two of them, Quill's fixed stare out into the garden, and the fact that Lara had avoided my eye contact the whole time, I had realized that it was pointless and had instead racked my brains over the disaster that was currently unfolding in the Maplecrest online book community.
As if it wasn't enough that the publisher was putting pressure on me, that goddamn agent, who had already given me a bad feeling back then, had disclosed private information about me, encouraging the students to try to track down my true identity and even my place of residence.
I had dug this ridiculous grave for myself. Never should I have written this book, let alone had it published.
The fact that Arnold felt offended by the intrusive press was more amusing than worrying. At least something good. Just not good enough to erase my nervousness.
If the professors at Maplecrest found out the truth, I'd be done for.
As crushing as these thoughts were, nothing constricted my windpipe as much as Quill's lifeless face.
First, she had gotten up from the dinner table and retreated to her room, followed by Lara.
For the first time in as long as I could remember, my daughter had not wished me a good night.
When I had knocked on her door, she had already been asleep.
I had stood motionless in front of Quill's door until a creaking sound from inside had sent me fleeing.
What would I have done if she had opened the door? I didn't want to know.
She made me unpredictable. In a frightening, disorienting, and at the same time addictive way.
All this time, I had tried to deny it, but she was my Velina.
I gritted my teeth.
No. Don't think that way about her. She's the same age as your daughter. She's your student, your mentor's daughter...
As if even one of those things would ever change the fact that she had saved my monotonous, worthless life.
Without her, I would no longer have a mentor, a daughter, a job...
But the fact that I was still alive and had already lost one of those three things should be proof enough that I couldn't afford to lose the other two as well. Having failed at this life once and for all would drive me to the brink of ruin.
My temples were throbbing.
I ran my hand over my face, took a deep breath before opening my eyes and staring at the table in front of me.
I was out of paper.
Exhausted, I opened the third drawer on the right side of my desk to...
Warmth and Grief
Atli ?rvarsson
Everything inside me froze as my eyes fixed on Quill's writing.
God bury me alive.
For a good minute, I stared down at the date in the corner, not daring to let my gaze drift back to her lines.
They were addictive, spelling out things better left buried.
The mere thought of burning her precious words made me feel like a traitor. Yet I wasn't even strong enough to close the drawer.
My hand had clenched around the knob.
This was hopeless.
I gave in, allowed my gaze to wander along the top edge of the page, where new words were written in blue ballpoint.
Accepting that paper is the only place we can exist is one of the hardest things I will ever have to accept.
My chest tightened as if steel chains were pulling tighter around my body.
One of the hardest things she ever had to accept? Damn it, I didn't even want to accept it.
Every last living fragment of my glass soul needed every little bit of light. Without her, there was nothing I could reflect in this world.
No blood, no ink. No breath, no word. No line, no book.
That was the moment I allowed myself to let go. To just fall. I no longer resisted the urge to drown in her sea of words. The death her words would bring? My salvation.
Your fingers under my skin, tracing the uneven knitting pattern of my soul. Flaws in the pattern, whose unevenness I have suppressed. You linger on them, kissing them until I forget what the word unevenness means.
Like a man possessed, I slipped between her lines, longing to dive completely into them.
I needed more. More of her.
Touch my threads.
Touch me.
I held my breath as the memory of her warm, soft skin began to haunt my mind. My hands on her glowing inner thighs...
Push my fibers aside.
Penetrate me.
So deep it hurts.
Each further line drove me mad until the hardness in my pants began to throb with longing.
I needed our pain. Her pressed against me. Two hungry souls, victims of their insatiable desires.
No closeness would ever be enough.
Skin on skin.
Fabric on fabric.
Soul on soul.
My breath, shaky, as the images in my head pieced together into a forbidden film.
Soak me in your wetness.
My hand slid to my pants and I swallowed hard, pressed against my arousal and bit my lips together.
Tear my fabric apart, sink into me until I no longer know who I am.
I wanted nothing more. God, I wanted to feel her.
Restless, I grabbed my cock.
Weave new patterns into me.
Worship me, Atrinus.
Make me your Velina.
Creak.
Abruptly, I tore my hand away from my hardness and looked up at the door to my study.
It was ajar.
Shit.
That noise... had undoubtedly come from the hallway.
I shoved Quill's text back into the drawers, closed them not particularly gently, and stepped around the desk.
Let it be the goddamn dog that has wandered up here again.
I yanked open the door to the dimly lit hallway.
Nothing.
No dog.
No one.
My gaze automatically wandered to the other end of the hallway.
Quill's door was ajar.
It had been closed earlier.
I stood there rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do.
Had she been watching me?
The mere thought was enough to send my mind into overdrive, and I started moving, reached her door and was about to throw it open, but then I paused in front of the narrow gap.
Quill was standing in front of her mirror. Dressed in nothing more than dark blue lace lingerie.
Do I Wanna Know
(slowed to perfection) – TikTok Remix
TommyMuzzic, ZeddMusique
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, followed by those on my arms... and my cock.
In a daze, I held my breath.
Her curves were reminiscent of marble arches, designed by an architect whose construction had surpassed perfection by worlds.
This bra should be forbidden, because not only did it stretch over her small, perfectly rounded breasts, but also, due to the gossamer-thin lace fabric, it barely covered her nipples, which were visibly pressing against the fabric.
I swallowed.
The fabric of her panties stretched across her hips, the cut accentuating every curve of her butt and, visible in the reflection, just barely covering her center with more lace.
Quill studied herself in the mirror. Her gaze so damn innocent.
My cock throbbed with desire, begging for her.
I should leave, lock myself in my bedroom. I should...
She dipped her hands into a silver tin on the windowsill until a gel-like transparent liquid drenched her fingers.
I bit my lower lip until it hurt. But even that didn't make me look away from this sight.
This was wrong. So wrong...
She brought her fingers to her stomach, smeared the transparent gel on her body, and began to spread it while watching her fingers glide over her skin in the mirror.
Mesmerized, I watched as her skin gave way beneath her fingers. Skin that couldn't be anything but divinely soft...
Suddenly, she reached behind her, pressed the clasp of her bra together, and it... popped open.
I swallowed, looked away.
Leave, Davian. Now.
The sound of fabric sliding to the floor made my head turn back hypnotically.
The bra lay at her feet. Her entire upper body was now exposed. Her shapely tits...
Fuck.
My hands slid back to my pants as I tried to imprint in my mind the pretty angle at which her nipples stood erect.
What I wouldn't give to warm them between my lips, Velina.
My thoughts sinned in a hell whose fires would reduce me to ashes. This... would be the end of me.
Quill dipped her wet fingers into the tin again.
With growing lust, I watched as her gel-dripping hands found their way to her tits.
Fuck. That was too much.
I couldn't take it any longer, unbuckled my belt as quietly as possible, plagued by the most gnawing guilt and the most devastating urge to release my cock from all of this that I had ever felt.
My hand slid into my pants and I grabbed my cock, clenching my teeth, unable to tear my gaze away from her hands, which were now massaging her tits. Gently at first, then more intensely, until she was kneading them.
Her soft moans of pleasure finished me off, so I started massaging my hard cock too.
I imagined it was my hands burying themselves into her flesh, imagined how I explored her nipples with my mouth, licked her sensitive skin and elicited every single moan from her.