Twisted Together (11 page)

And
he had just begun.

Kris
slammed back inside, the wet sound muffled by my shout. It shook my
core, my dick pulsating in his grip. How could something so painful
make such pleasure bloom? I wasn't a masochist, so why was I...

Why
am I anticipating the next stroke?

In
time with his slow pumping fist, Kris thrust in and out of me. He
made a tempo, decided our speed. It had been obvious from the start,
I was along for the ride. He was the driver.

The
engorged tip of my cock was hyper-sensitive. My juice gave his touch
a slick feel. On taut calves, my toes spazzing in my shoes, the first
glow of orgasm spread out from me. The way it radiated to my limbs, I
wondered, distantly, if I could actually illuminate from temperature.
I was a living beacon of light, the fire Kris had strived to kindle.

Now
I burned us both up.

Grunting
low, he shook over me. He still jerked me off, ignoring how rivulets
of cum had long spent their time dripping over his fingers; cooling.
My excitement was his undoing.
I'm
his undoing,
I
realized in awe.
I
have been since the start.

Inside,
he swelled. For a second I debated the danger of being split in two.
Funny, I didn't care if it happened. Not after everything else he'd
done to me. No, now I just... now all I wanted was
more
of him.

Lord
help him if he ever had nothing left for me. That was a day I prayed
never came.

“
Jack!
Fuck, Jack, holy hell. I'm...” He finished, just not with his
words. Warm as new rain, his seed filled me up. He came in me with
such an explosion, my prick flared in another moment of life. I
wandered the halls of insanity, scared I might actually climax again.

I
was disappointed I didn't. Hated that I didn't.

We
hung together. Kris, leaning on me for support, and I, always
pressing back into him for the same. It was the wall that kept us
standing, but it was his essence that cradled me. It was him I would
remember. Not the cold wall.

Heady,
brain swimming, I didn't fight as he slid free of me. My flesh was
still hungry, grasping at him and making me whine. Kris laughed
darkly, giving my ass a hard slap when he popped out. The obscene
sound of him leaving made me blush.
After
everything, I'm still capable of shame. How weird is that?

Clothing
rustled, loud in my incredible awareness. Looking back, I found Kris
sliding his pants up. It pained me to lose sight of his body. He
caught my stare, flashed me a knowing smile. “Get changed,”
he said solidly. “We need to go back out there.”

“
Do
we?” The question left me, escaped.

Pausing
with his fingers on the button by his throat, he considered me. It
made me feel even more exposed; a shocking thing, seeing how I was
already nude. “You'd rather stay here, enduring more of me?”

Enduring
him?
My
frown was deep. Taking his cue, I slid my boxers up. I winced as they
covered my soaked crotch. It was worse as I bent again; semen wanted
to drip from my tight ass.
I
need to clean up, fuck.
“It's
not like that.” Shifting around, meaning to seek out my shirt,
I locked up under the nearness of him.

Kris
slammed his hands on either side of my head, daring me to run. Like
an eager toy, my body awoke for him, straining at his stretched
torso. Even clothed, his heat brushed at me. “Then tell me what
it's like. Did you not get enough of me? Was I not satisfying?
Because I felt you, how you screamed and came and—”

“
Stop!”
I snapped, summoning what anger I could find in me. His blue eyes
challenged me, waited for my explanation. What could I even tell him
to make him understand? “I don't—I'm not a spectacle.”
I bit my tongue. “I'm not a toy to show off. In here, just you
and me, I felt...”
What?

His
face rang with the same, unspoken question in my head. “Jack.”

“
I
felt you,” I finished lamely, looking away.
I
sound so stupid.
“I
guess I thought there was more here.”

He
trapped my jaw, thumb sweet and kind. His affection cut the most of
all. How could he be so sweet, so cruel, all at once? “Ah. And
when we leave here, you're scared that it will all vanish. We'll
return to our charade, then no more.”

Swallowing
was hard, the knot in my throat just grew. “I have a reason to
be scared.”

Kris
smiled wryly. “That's true.” He caused my heart to punch
my ribs. “You
should
be scared of me, but not because of something like that.” He
dug his thumb into my cheek, a reminder of his roughness. There, that
was actually comforting; a reminder of how sick I was, of how he was,
too. “Jack. This is no longer a charade. Isn't that what should
frighten you? Knowing what I did here, that I have no plans to leave
you be again?”

My
mouth tasted like rust. Had I bit myself? “Wait. You want
to...”
To
stay with me, to keep me, to hold me.

To
love me.

I
could say none of it.

Slipping
an arm around my middle, he pushed me into his crisp clothes. Even
now, he managed to seem put together, suave. His pants had been
around his ankles just minutes ago. It was unfair. “You like
that idea, I see that now. Good. You may come to hate it later, how
you need me. For now it will make it simpler. Jack,” he started
to say, then halted. Turmoil bloomed in those chilly blue centers.
“Fuck. You threw me off. I actually thought I'd be coaxing you
more.”

He
wants to be with me.
The
understanding rang in my soul.
He
was ready to manipulate me more to get it.
It
was wrong. What he'd said was the admission of a stalker, a sadist.
What was I, then, if gleaning his ravenous determination managed to
excite
me? “You mean that,” I whispered. “If I had left
here, wanting to escape you...”
Like
I'd planned last night. How far I've fallen. I'm so weak, but I don't
fucking care anymore.
“You
were going to force me back.”

The
reminder of his potential violence made his lips curl. They sought
mine, a probing kiss, a threatening kiss that begged me to throw him
off. He was daring me to struggle.

I
was done struggling.

Gasping,
he tore away and scratched at his hair. Kris had never looked so
anxious to me. Unraveled. That was the word I was looking for. “Shit.
Yes. Jack, I don't—this might make me lose my fucking mind. Is
it awful that I don't care?” He was watching me, looking for...
what? My approval? “I'm twisted up inside over you. I want you,
I did the second I
smelled
you. Tasting you did me in, your lips—god.” His laugh
struck me as unhinged.

If
stepping backwards was possible, the wall ended my reflex. It was a
lucky thing, that. I suspected that showing him my worry might throw
him over the edge. “I get it. I'm broken from this, too.”

“
No.”
His breath scalded, his tension so coiled I expected him to jump the
few feet between us and strangle me. “I'm not broken from this.
I was broken before. I just decided to drag you down to meet me,
here, where I've lived so long.”

And
suddenly, in a brisk moment of clarity, I saw a part of Kris I never
had before. The boy who'd lived under his father's thumb, been told
he'd inherit a life that had made the man downstairs wear blue eyes
even chillier than his son's. Kris had been broken long before I was.
Could money, power, cause such hate and stress?

He
was using me to try and escape this life.
It
was a warning bell, knowing he
still
planned to use me. That he'd admitted he didn't care if I kept
fighting him. He was an infection, eager to spread to me.

Now
I knew.

There
was no cure for what he'd made me. I'd had this side of myself all
along, our sickness was just who we were.

Stepping
forward, I captured his hands. Seeing him startle, verging on baring
his teeth like a rabid beast, turned my guts to water. But I couldn't
back down here. The risk was too great. “Kris, listen to me.
You guided me here, but look how easy it was. I wanted this. If I
hadn't... come on.” My laugh was hollow in my ears. “I
changed too quickly for this to be all you.”

He
hadn't blinked. “What if I want it to be all me?”

I
had no more saliva. Licking my lips made them more dry. “Then
it will be. From here on out, if you want that. I'm weak to you,
fucking weak as hell. Anything you want, even if I fight, you'll win
it.”

The
thing I'd promised to never admit. There it was, and it must have
been the wrong thing to say. He was glaring like I'd slapped him.
Preparing myself for an attack, I tensed up, mouth spreading to offer
a plea.

With
fingers on the nape of my neck, he ripped me with his lips. His teeth
were calming, cutting me, bruising me with familiarity. This was the
Kris I knew. Holding me against him, he rubbed his jaw along my
jugular. The scratch of his stubble was like sandpaper. Everything he
did polished me like a jewel, turned me brighter, more pure.

More
perfect for him.

“
I'll
write you a check for the money, like I promised,” he
whispered.

“
Who
cares about that anymore?” I still did, but it wasn't the
moment for hard reality. I wanted more tongue and sweetness. I wanted
raw power over taking me.

Chuckling
smoothly, he nipped my ear. It was awful, the cold air between us as
he stepped back. The gravity still existed, though. The pull of my
heart, my melting core, towards his. That would never die. “Come.
Finish dressing so we can go out there.”

Bending,
I retrieved my shirt reluctantly. The buttons were numb in my
fingertips, some even broken from his eagerness earlier.
Back
out there. The charade—no. Just our show, who we are. Nothing
is fake anymore.
“And
what then?”

Kris
reached for me, taking my hand in his. It was protective. It was also
terrible. Every hint of his kindness made me seek more. Knowing he
kept it locked away, displaying mere flickers, was taunting. “Then,
we say our farewells. To them,” he added quickly, seeing my
face fall. “Not to each other. I came here to do one thing. Now
it's done. I have other things I'd much rather spend my time doing
with my new freedom.”