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It’s your fault she’s dead, boy. You good for nothin’ piece of shit. You killed her. Satan birthed you from the fiery pits of hell before he delivered you from that womb. We have to pay for our sins in this life, and the only way to save your soul is to bleed the devil out of your veins.

The tip of my blade pressed against the raised flesh on my chest, but I hesitated. A year ago, it would have twisted and snarled through the scar tissue until a river of red leaked down my torso and dripped onto the bathroom tile. I tossed the knife aside and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Every letter carved into my chest had been retraced since Ed branded me. But there was no satisfaction in that pain anymore.

Something had shifted in me when I first saw Birdie. Somehow, over time, she’d become my new addiction. Stalking her, picking her apart… these were the only things that ever felt better than my own destructive urges. She made my head a war zone of emotions. I didn’t like to feel, but she made me feel. Obsession, resentment, frustration. I just wanted to stay numb. Empty. Balanced.

I debated on a shower, but instead, I found myself opening up the bathroom drawer to retrieve my favorite pair of Birdie’s panties. I wrapped the black lace around my dick and leaned against the counter. Sucking in a breath, I closed my eyes and tried not to think of anyone or anything. I needed to clear the scattered thoughts in my mind and find a release. But all I saw was her.

Threads of a different fabrication spun through my mind. Her warm body arched against the cool brick in the alleyway, the hem of her dress wrapped around her hips. The honeyed skin of her thighs parted, luring me to the heaven between them. I wedged my hips into that space, drugging myself on her hypnotic sweetness. My thumb slipped beneath the silky fabric that curved against her breasts, drawing each piece aside until she was exposed to me. I wanted to drag her soft, full tits over my face and into my mouth. I wanted to feel them bouncing beneath her as I thrust into her like a savage. I pinched her nipple, and she yelped. She never fucking listened. I told her as much when my palm echoed off the arc of her ass. But even in my dreams, Birdie fucked my mind. Her lips curled into one of her sex-kitten smiles as she tilted her head, exposing the eyes that would inevitably bring me to my knees. She was proud of herself for getting to me this way. My palm slipped between her thighs, desperate for confirmation that I wasn’t the only one infected with this insanity. Sticky warmth coated my fingers. Everything I wanted and nothing I needed.

Fuck.

Pressure expanded inside my fist, the muscles along my spine rigid with tension. It was wrong, but I gripped harder, faster, fisting my cock as I imagined her pussy wrapped around me, milking the poison from my body and greedily accepting it in hers.

The release was explosive, spurting all over her panties and my knuckles as I collapsed against the counter. Exhaustion and disgust settled into my bones as I came back down to reality. How many times had I told myself I wasn’t going to do that again? I wasn’t going to think of her. She was too pure for a devil like me. I would corrupt her. Taint her. Ruin her. Depravity was the only way to describe this fixation.

She could never be mine.

“HEY, STRANGER.” A FEMININE VOICE filtered across the shop floor.

I poked my head out from the engine I’d been working on for the past week, my lips pinching together when I found Kylie standing there. “What are you doing here?”

For a split second, she looked wounded by my words, but she recovered quickly. Kylie knew I had an unspoken rule about my shop. Everyone in my life understood that. I had a system, and everything had its place. Even the guys who worked for me knew better than to touch my shit or step foot on my side of the shop. When I came here, it was to work, not socialize, and I’d never brought a woman here just to hang out on the sidelines. But I wasn’t about to remind Kylie of that because I already felt like an asshole every time I’d seen her lately. This time was no exception. What I couldn’t figure out was why she continued to hang around.

Our agreement was as simple as it could get, and Kylie knew the score. I wasn’t capable of emotional shit, and she knew from the beginning exactly what I needed from her. We’d stayed in that lane for a couple of years now, and I’d paid her well for her time. But things had been stagnant for a while now, and I assumed that was the reason for her visit today.


Tags: A. Zavarelli Sin City Salvation Romance