Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
They’re emotional.
I reach a hand out toward her head, wanting to touch her, wanting to just…be there for her.
But she’s never been there for you.
I pull it back, jaw flexing. “Come to my apartment tomorrow.”
Her sniffles pause as she looks up at me through teary eyes. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll tell your husband about this.”
Then I turn around and leave, her fresh cries following behind me.
I close the door and remain there, making sure no one else hears or sees her this way.
Broken.
Vulnerable.
Desperate.
I should feel triumph, but all that lurks in my bones is resounding fucking defeat.
30
Akira
Dear Yuki-Onna,
You need to stop visiting me in my dreams. It used to be new and fun; now it’s just annoying.
And creepy.
You keep touching me, giving me blowjobs, and taking my dick to the highest levels of heaven just to drop him back in hell.
That’s not cool. At all.
It’s just torturous at this point.
You already dropped me out of your life, so how about you disappear, huh? Or, here’s a better idea, you can come back, explain yourself, and then fuck off.
Do I sound desperate? That’s because I probably am.
I don’t like you molesting me in my sleep and making me wake up with a hard-on that I have to fuck the mattress to get rid of.
I certainly dislike the way your fucking eyes look at me while you swallow my cum, as if you’re inviting me to a different place that I can’t find because you fucking disappeared.
What I hate the most, however, is that I can’t touch you. No matter how much I try to, you just vanish and haul me out of an uncomfortable sleep into an even worse reality.
Why show up when you never actually intended to stay?
Is this your invisible middle finger because you know I won’t be able to flip it back?
In that case, fuck you very much, Naomi. And, no, I’m not bitter or enraged or fucking dramatic.
I just want to sleep at night without obsessing about how I will come down your throat when you visit at night or how I will attempt to stay in that fucking imaginary world.
I just want you to go.
So do us both a favor and leave me alone.
Or at least stay after you exorcise my soul through my fucking dick.
You’ll never read this, but I’ll still sign it with as little love as possible and with the right amount of hate,
Akira
31
Naomi
I never thought that the one thing able to lift me up would be the same thing that could break me down.
I never stopped to consider that my own Achilles heel would enable me to touch heaven even while living through hell.
It’s been a few weeks since the charity event at Senator Weaver’s house.
A few weeks since I hit rock bottom, burned, and rose from the ashes.
I don’t know why I broke down that night. Could be because of the physical torment or the psychological pain. Could be because Sebastian made me so happy, then rejected me so cruelly afterward.
Could be all of those combined.
I didn’t even feel it when I fell to the floor and let the thing that festered inside me out in the open.
It was a moment of weakness, but I moved past it.
Or I pretended to, anyway.
My affair with Sebastian is a different story altogether.
Every other day, I’ve gone to his apartment, where he ambushes and fucks me. He comes up with different ways to catch me off guard and it never gets old. Not the waiting time or the thrill that comes with it. Not the adrenaline rush or the sinking into the unknown.
The moment he grabs me, I fight, I really do, but it’s always useless. Not only because he overpowers me, but also because I love it when he does.
I love it when he pushes me down and uses me so thoroughly, as if he can’t get enough of me. Or when he takes me roughly and unapologetically, whispering dirty words to me.
“You’re such a filthy girl, aren’t you, my slut?”
“Look how your greedy cunt wants more of my dick.”
“Open your legs wider, let me see my pussy.”
“No touching yourself or I’ll come all over your face.”
“Feel that? Feel how you stretch around me, inviting me in?”
“Does your husband smell me on you when he touches you? Does he see my dried cum between your legs and in your every pore? Does he notice the marks I leave on your tits and ass or do you hide them?”
It should turn me off, should give me the courage to finally say the safe word, but I don’t.
I can’t.
Because those words, no matter how wrong they are, turn me ablaze with a wildfire.
And Sebastian is the reason behind the flames. He’s the damn volcano.
Every evening, I say this time will be the last. That I’ll bid him farewell and voice that damn word.