Page 13
“You broke into my apartment.”
“I knocked.”
“Sure as fuck you did. I was asleep. I didn’t hear a fucking thing. All I heard was the sound of the door opening as you picked the lock.”
“I knocked first.” I shift, trying to get my feet under me without making any movement that reads as threatening, which is difficult when you’re sitting on the floor with your ankles roped together and your ex-girlfriend is standing over you with a dominatrix whip. “June. You have to listen to me.”
That does it.
With a thunderous crack, she follows through on her threat and delivers a blow to my cock that sends lightning blasting through my body. I moan, doubled-over.
“What’s that you said?” She says, raising the whip again and then bringing it down. It hits where it intends to, and I see stars. “You want some more?”
“I want… you… to not… die…” I manage.
And manage to take another whip in the dick.
I hit the floor, prone, moaning, one hand on my cock — both cupping my severely wounded balls and shielding them from any further damage — while the other rips and tears at the bindings around my ankle.
June isn’t deterred by my one-handed shield. She throttles my cock with the leather whip, turning my knuckles and the back of my hand into sausage. The reverberations of each impact pass through my hand and into my hypersensitive scrotum.
Fuck.
Guy Fieri laughs in the background and holds up a pierogi the size of a toddler.
“June,” I grit out through my teeth, my voice somewhere between a growl and a plea, a register I did not know existed until approximately right now. “June, stop. Stop. I’m trying to warn you. That’s it. That’s the whole fucking thing. There are people coming for you and I’m the only one who knows who they are and you’re —” another crack of the whip lands across my knuckles and the pain is white and total and I hear myself make a sound that I will take to my grave, “ — you’re just whipping my cock.”
“I know,” she says, and she sounds almost calm about it. Almost clinical. Like a woman following a process she’s thought through carefully and finds satisfying in its execution.
“June.”
“Why the hell are you tormenting me?” She snaps it again, and this time I roll sideways enough that it catches my hip instead, which is still bad, still a line of fire across bone, but it’s not my cock, and I’ll take the upgrade. “Why can’t you just — why do you exist? Why do you keep existing in my life? Why couldn’t you just stay gone? I was fine. I was handling it. I was building something, and you walked through my door and you’re just — you’re a menace, Dylan, you are an actual menace, and I hate you, I hate that you’re here, I hate I had to look at your face tonight, I hate that I even have to think about you. You are the absolute fucking worst.”
Another whipping, and this one I don’t dodge.
But in the agony that blasts through my body as my dick takes the concussive force of my ex-girlfriend’s whip, I rip free the last of the bindings around my ankles and rise to my feet, both hands now sheltering my nether regions.
“Stop,” I say.
“I’d rather die,” she retorts. “But I’d really, really rather you die. I mean, fuck you, you fucking asshole. I shouldn’t even deal with this shit — I should call the Devils and let them take care of you. Or call the Sons and let Midnight take you off my hands.”
“I’m trying to help you. Will you just shut the fuck up and listen to me for a second?”
“No. And you know what? You can try to fight back, but it won’t be long before the Devils check on me, and if you hurt me or do anything to me, they’ll hunt you down. And I bet the Sons are already hunting for you, too, aren’t they? Shit, Dylan, you’re fucking alone, aren’t you?”
She’s right.
I am.
Everything I had, I ran away from to do what I thought was the right thing. Never did I imagine it would lead to me getting my cock throttled.
“You need to listen.”
“You need to lie the fuck down and let me tie you back up.”
“You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” she says.
