Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Ledger
Atear falls to the floor.
The singular bead of water somehow twinkles in the darkness as it descends into the ocean of tears that have come before it.
Tears that are currently drowning me.
I can’t breathe.
She has to stop crying.
The pain in my chest is excruciating. Without air, I’ll drown but her misery is endless—and it’s all because of me.
I open my mouth to apologize but only salty tears fill my lungs…
Jerking awake is a mistake but it’s instinctual as I gasp for air. The motion does nothing to quell the burning in my lungs or bring any relief. In fact, only agony erupts.
“Goddamnit,” I hiss between clenched teeth.
I’m not sure if it’s just severe bruising around my ribs or something worse but what I do know is that breathing is fucking torture.
Gulping shallow breaths of air helps but doesn’t feel satisfying.
If I don’t sit up and readjust, the pain is going to become so great that I’ll pass out.
And there, in my unconscious state, I’ll dream of drowning in Blair’s sorrow again.
I will myself to move, sitting up slowly.
Just as I make it upright and the motion sensor lights flicker on—I hear movement.
I go still as I strain to hear the soft footsteps. There are voices now too. And laughing—that must be Santiago. Before I can even begin to wonder what tonight’s activities will bring, the door rolls to the side.
My heart races as my eye lands on Blair, who walks into the room.
Under one arm is a large first aid kit and in the other hand is a large mixing bowl.
Santi follows close behind her, a folding chair in his hand.
Quickly he unfolds it, sets the chair beside the metal one Blair had sat in just yesterday, and steps back.
“Thanks,” Blair mutters as she places the bowl and first aid on the new seat.
“If you need us—” Santi starts.
“You’ll be right on the other side of that door, I know.”
Santi turns to look at me. He smiles but it’s cold and it’s followed by him flipping me off before heading out of the room. The moment the door slides back into place, my attention snaps back to Blair.
It must be late, given her attire. She’s wearing one of the guys’ shirts and her pajama shorts. I stare at her smooth, muscular legs as she walks over, unlocks the cage, and then nudges her head toward the metal chair.
“Come on. I’m going to clean you up.”
There’s nothing that would stop me from getting up and getting closer to her now.
Not the pain in my ribs, or the dizzy spell that causes the room to spin when I get to my feet.
Blair doesn’t move as I step out of the cage, but I catch sight of her eyes narrowing on me as I pass her to sit in the metal chair.
The minute I’ve sat down, Blair walks around me, grabbing a wrist as she moves by and jerking it back.
I swear as pain flares up my side. Then I do it again when she grabs my other wrist to pull it back. As she cuffs me from behind, I can’t help but bite out, “Is this really necessary?”
Blair doesn’t reply. Instead, she comes to stand in front of me. I start to tilt my head up to look into her face but my eyes lock onto the bandana she tugs from her pocket.
“Open your mouth,” she orders.
Understanding clicks swiftly. I glare at her. “You’re not going to gag—”
She shoves the bandana into my mouth and wraps it around my head. I try to pull back but where the fuck am I going to go? So, I attempt to stand.
This earns me a slap across my busted face and I see stars instantly.
I stagger forward but Blair shoves me back down. Before I can shake off the pain, Blair’s on her knees, tying each ankle to a leg of the chair.
“There,” she steps back, a pleased smile blossoming across her face. “I think we’re ready to begin.”
Unease coils in my gut.
There might be a first aid kit open on the folding chair next to us, but it doesn’t bode well for me that she gagged and tied me down.
With a sigh, Blair reaches down and grabs the hem of the shirt she’s wearing.
To my surprise, she lifts it up and pulls the shirt up and over her head.
It’s forgotten instantly, as I stare at Blair’s body before me.
Holy hell… She’s beautiful. My eyes trail up her lean stomach, marred with a few old scars here and there, to her breasts.
Fucking gorgeous.
It doesn’t matter that I’m busted up or tied down, my dick stirs to life. I grow hard in seconds and there’s no hiding it.
“I found your phone and saw the texts to Dad,” she informs me. “You were telling the truth.”
Of course I was.
My eyes narrow on her face.
“Which leads me to believe that at least some of the other shit you said was probably true as well,” she continues. A small smile pulls up half her mouth. “You know, Santi thinks you did this because you love me. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
I blink in surprise.
Love?
Curiously, I turn over the word in my head.
I’m pretty sure after all I’ve been through I’m incapable of such an emotion. It's such a soft, sweet thing. What I feel for Blair is coarse, ugly, poisonous, and damning—all opposite of love.
But maybe… maybe this started out as love?
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s love either,” Blair admits, watching my face carefully. “But I figured that maybe if I rip away your autonomy, we can then both check our notes and decide on it together at the end. Is this love? Or simply control?”
Without waiting for a response, Blair moves but not in the way I expect.
She steps forward, straddles my legs and then lowers herself into my lap so that she’s sitting there facing me. I stiffen, taken off guard by the intimate position. Blair smiles.
While beautiful, it’s twisted with something dark.
Blair reaches down between us. I’m not sure what she’s doing until her fingers jerk down the zipper of my fly.
I suck in a sharp breath through my nose.
My heart skips a beat. What the fuck? I flinch when her fingers wrap around my hard cock—her palm so soft and warm—and pulls it free from its confines.
I choke on a moan as her grip tightens and she gives me a few long strokes.
Holy fuck.
What the hell is going on?
Her hand feels so goddamn good.
Why am I not fighting this?
The creature I’ve been trying to rein in all these years after Blair’s initial kiss rears its ugly head and fights for supremacy.
This fucked-up side of me is alive and well.
Hadn’t I warned her of this? I told Blair I would corrupt her if I touched her.
The sentiment goes both ways. This dark, oily feeling that’s coated my soul vibrates with delight as her hand slides up and down me once more.
My hold on my sanity slips.
I never had a strong grip on it to begin with, but it was enough to hold back this malicious, darker version of myself.
“Stop.” The word, the command, is muffled by the gag.
Blair’s eyes light up with amusement.
“What was that?” She gives me a squeeze, and I tremble once, hard, with pleasure. “Oh, you’re right. I should probably get to work cleaning you up.”
She pulls her hand away.
I hate the lack of contact while simultaneously feeling relieved.
Maybe there’s hope yet that I can bottle this darker side of me back up. Or at least push it back down enough so I can’t hear its whispers in my head.
“But… I should get more comfortable first, since we’ll be here a while.”
I watch her through my good eye as she lifts up, out of my lap. Just when I think she’s going to swing a leg over and stand, Blair reaches down to push the fabric of her pajama bottoms to the side. Then, she’s lowering herself over my cock.
The minute the tip of my dick presses against Blair’s wet entrance, my thoughts scatter.
As she sinks down onto me—her pussy so hot and inviting, tight and determined to fit me—I can feel what good there is left of me become eviscerated.
When Blair’s seated completely down into my lap, I wonder which ring of hell the two of us are headed to when we die—because wherever I go, I’ll be bringing Blair with me.
Buried deep inside Blair’s sweet little cunt is the heaven men have written about in their religious text. There is nothing on the face of this earth that could possibly contend with how fucking mind-blowing and soul shattering it feels as Blair’s pussy squeezes around me.
I was fighting to keep from experiencing this? Fuck, I’d go head-to-head with Anchor right now as long as I knew I could come right back here and bury my cock into his daughter’s perfect pussy.
Maybe that insidious little whisper in the back of my head was really the sane part of me urging me to give into life’s most decadent treat. Why have I been fighting this so hard for so long?
I’m never leaving.
This is where I’ll bunker down for the rest of my life—deep inside Blair’s body.
The hearty, full-bodied moan that slips past Blair’s lips causes my cock to twitch inside of her.
“Oh, shit… Ledger. You feel just as good as I thought you would,” Blair says airily as she throws her head back and squirms on my lap.
The sick part of me practically purrs at the husk in her voice. Her pussy squeezes me again in approval.
“I guess I should get to work, huh?” she murmurs.
Leaning down, she reaches for a rag in the bowl of water she brought down. She rings it out and turns to face me. As she leans forward, she’s careful as she places a hand on my shoulder to brace herself. Her other hand comes up and she gently dabs my face with the wet cloth.
Wait, what?
She was serious about attending to my wounds right now?
It’s like she’s completely forgotten about my cock as she gently wipes the warm wet cloth across my face.
Forget the goddamn blood! Why isn’t she riding me?
No, no, no, wait! I can’t want this. Blair deserves better than the madness lurking beneath my skin. And my best friend has entrusted me with his daughter’s life—that includes her soul. Her perfect, beautiful, soul.
A soul I so desperately want to consume…
“Get. Off. Me.” I try to get across to her through my gag.
She doesn’t react or say anything.
“Blair, getoffmenow!”