Chapter 19 #3
And fuck if he doesn’t taste better than I imagined. A hint of musk and salt. Fucking delicious.
My eyes close as I savor it. Then Reese grabs a fistful of my hair and jerks it hard, yanking my head back. I cry out as my eyes fly open to see the silver in his darker than they’ve ever been.
While most of that dread from before had gone away—or had just been eclipsed by everything else—now it comes rushing back.
My heart tries to beat out of my chest. When I feel something constricting around my throat, I’m not sure if it’s Reese’s shadows or the fear they’re stirring within me. Probably both.
“Look at you,” he says, his voice low and husky, roughened at the edges and worn down to something dangerous.
“All that fucking attitude, and you still end up surrendering to me. Such a pathetic and desperate whore when you want something, aren’t you?
You’re starting to enjoy it. You’re fucking my shadows. ”
My hips don’t stop even when he calls me out. They roll, thrusting up into the shadow hands that continue stroking me inside and out.
“Say it again.” With one hand still in my hair, he holds his cock with his other, bringing it to my mouth and brushing the head against my lips. “Say how badly you want it.”
“I’ll do anything. Please. I can’t wait any longer.”
He tugs on my hair again. My mouth falls open, but before any sound can come out, he shoves his cock past my lips. It hits the back of my throat on the first thrust, making me gag and my eyes water. His low growl fills the room.
I nearly come right then.
Except as he immediately picks up a rhythm fucking my mouth, the grip his shadows have on me loosens, the ones inside me retreating from where I need them to be.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
I whimper around his dick, but either he can’t hear me or he doesn’t care. Most likely the latter.
“Fuck, you look gorgeous with your lips stretched around my cock.”
The grip on my dick tightens and eases, tightens and eases.
Over and over and over again. I ball my hands into fists in frustration and try to bang them against the wall, but I can’t get them far enough away for the hits to make any sound.
Every time I get close, my release runs from me, and I’m unable to chase it.
I have no doubt he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Seven years must be enough time to learn to command shadows and wield them expertly.
He continues holding onto my hair, brutally rutting into my mouth. Saliva and precum drip from the corners of my lips. There’s no sign of him slowing down as the shadows continue to edge me. The tears that leak from my eyes aren’t just from him choking me with his cock.
“You once called this the worst kind of torture,” he says from above me, speaking between panting breaths. “Now that you have a frame of reference, would you still say the same?”
Without hesitation, I nod as best as I can with his hand holding my hair and his dick in my mouth.
He’s not going to let me come.
I’m never going to get to come again.
The tears come faster.
Yes, this is the fucking worst kind of torture.
But then the shadows or the fear—or whatever the fuck it was around my throat—retreats. The shadows tighten their fists around my cock and stroke faster, the ones inside moving deeper again, swelling until the pressure builds too fast, too much.
“Come for them, Cason. Come for my shadows.”
A low, wrecked sound drags out of me, muffled by his cock, as my body seizes.
My spine bows as if pulled by invisible strings.
It crashes through me all at once, violent and consuming, leaving nothing untouched.
Thought disappears. There’s only the pulse of it, sharp and relentless, tearing through me in waves that feel almost unbearable.
Just like that, my mind is back there. It’s seven years ago, and Reese has never hurt me, not like he has now.
I float in that memory for as long as I can.
Because when I come back…
Whatever was loose inside my head snaps back into place, and I fucking hate myself.
Reese is still fucking my mouth. His shadows have left my cock softening on my thigh, an empty feeling in their wake and a mess of cum on my jeans, but they’re still pinning my wrists to the wall.
I can’t see anything through the blur of tears, and all I can taste and feel is him and the dread crawling back in.
I barely resist the temptation to bite his dick.
He’d fucking deserve it.
But I don’t because…yeah, fine. Okay. There’s still a part of me that wants his cum.
So I wait. I hollow my cheeks and suck. I press right underneath the head of his cock with my tongue. He grunts, and his hips jerk. He settles all the way in the back of my throat as his dick pulses inside my mouth and he forces me to swallow everything he has.
His thumb swipes across my cheek. When he steps back, his shadows go with him. I can barely make out the shape of him licking my tears off his thumb as the darkness releases me and my arms fall to my sides.
They don’t feel like mine at first. My shoulders burn as the blood rushes back in, pins and needles chasing down to my fingertips.
I sag forward, catching myself at the last second before I hit the floor face-first. I shut my eyes tight, my breath coming in uneven pulls that still don’t feel quite right in my chest.
Everything feels wrong.
Like something got cracked open, and now I can’t shove it back where it belongs.
I drag in a shaky breath and immediately regret it, my ribs protesting, my lungs still not convinced they’re safe to expand all the way. The room feels colder without the shadows on me, which…is deeply fucked up considering they felt like suffocation five minutes ago.
My hands curl into fists against the floor.
Maybe I shouldn’t have given in.
Maybe that was a mistake.
A huge, catastrophic, life-altering mistake.
Reese doesn’t speak, and I can’t look up at him. The silence is thick and heavy and too much.
“I hate you,” I say.
It comes out quieter than I expected it would. Not harsh or loud. Just…true.
Because I do. Right now, in this moment, I fucking hate him.
My vision blurs at the edges more than normal, exhaustion crashing into me all at once now that the adrenaline and arousal are gone. My body feels like it’s shutting down piece by piece, systems failing in a slow cascade.
“I really,” I add, barely audible now, “really hate you.”
I don’t know if he says anything back. I don’t know if he moves.
The floor rushes up to meet me as my arms finally give out, and this time I don’t catch myself.
I drift in and out after that, the world seeping in through the cracks in fragments. A door opening. Footsteps. The faint curl of shadows brushing somewhere too close, then gone again like they were never there.
Time doesn’t exist, just pieces of it, floating and disconnected.
When I wake again, it’s quieter and still. I blink slowly, my head pounding as I try to orient myself. The concrete floor is still beneath me, my body exactly where it gave out. Nothing’s changed.
Except…
My gaze drifts to the door. It sits ajar, just enough to let a thin line of light cut into the room.
I stare at it, my brain struggling to catch up.
Then my pulse spikes, and suddenly, I’m wide awake.