Opulent Obsession – Breaking Belles

I’d never be the same again after this man. I never had been, goddamn him. He’d had me from the very first day I’d met him as a lonely five-year-old and he burst into my world like black and white meeting technicolor for the first time.

I clutched him to me and buried my face in his neck as my pussy clenched around him, the hardest, longest orgasm of my life spasming, spasm upon spasm, riding it higher and then higher still.

He was the only man who’d ever done this to me, who ever could, I was convinced. Maybe he really was the devil, because he’d always tempted me beyond all reason and sanity. I’d drop everything for the chance at even a moment with him, no matter how fucked up the circumstances.

But as my orgasm peaked even higher, I knew he wasn’t the devil, not really. Because as bliss overcame my body, it hit me—how could he be the devil if he made me see God, I came so hard?

11

Rafe

Flashing lights filled the dark kitchen as I ate my midnight snack.

I had just returned from Sully’s house party and had missed curfew, but luckily all were asleep. Sneaking into my large house undetected wasn’t hard…

But why the flashing lights?

Cops were outside.

Shit.

Why?

I didn’t have the party while my parents were out of town. That was Sully. Was it a crime attending a party? Why were the police outside?

The loud knock on the door announced their presence to not only me, but now my parents.

I opened the door and wondered how I was going to get myself out of this one. Had they gone to Fallon’s house too? Was she in trouble for attending the party with me?

“Are your parents home?” the police officer asked. His partner stood behind him, and I could see the lights of the police car were still on. Why were they still on?

“Mom!” I shouted over my shoulder towards the stairs. “Dad!” I shouted again, although it was much harder to do because the air felt as if it had just been knocked out of me.

Something was wrong and it wasn’t just because I attended a high school party.

My dad was the first one down the stairs as he put on his robe mid-stride. My mother was close behind, but she walked much slower as if afraid of who was at the door.

“Mr. Jackson,” the cop said.

“Yes?” My father opened the door fully, and I moved out of the way so he could master the doorway in his powerful take-charge way.

“It’s about your son, Timothy Jackson,” the officer said as he took a deep breath. “He’s been in a fatal car accident. I’m sorry to tell you that your son didn’t make it.”

“This has to be a mistake,” my father demanded. He shook his head. “Timothy? No. There has to be a mistake.”

“Timothy! Timothy!” my mother cried out as she lunged down the stairs as if she were determined to beat the cop for spreading such a lie.

Chaos of death. Insanity of pain.

Screams. Howls of heartbreak. Agonizing cries all with the flashing lights around. A horrific soundtrack of soul-ripping torture and denial.

My father collapsed to the ground. My mother nearly fell down the stairs. I simply stood. I watched. I waited…

I waited for Timothy to walk up from behind the police officers to tell us it was all a mistake. Nothing could touch my brother. He was untouchable. He was the golden boy. He could conquer anything that came his way… even the fucking Reaper himself.

Not Tim.

Not my brother.

He couldn’t be dead.

No. No. No!

We all screamed no over and over. No!

“No!” I screamed as I sat up in bed, dripping in sweat. I looked around in the darkness, confused.

“Rafe?” Fallon said as her hand briefly touched my shoulder. “It’s just a nightmare. It’s okay. I’m here. It was just a dream.”

Just a dream. Just another nightmare of that night so many years ago. I ran my fingers through my damp hair, inhaling deep breaths to try to steady my heart that felt as if it were going to break free from my chest.

“Are you okay?” Fallon asked.

Okay? Was I ever going to be okay? Years of therapy to try to deal with these nightmares, and though they had gotten better, they clearly were never going to go away. I would forever hear the screams of my parents as they found out their firstborn son was dead.

“Let me get you some water.” Fallon got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom.

I took the time to try to steady my nerves. It was just a nightmare, and yet it wasn’t. It was real. Timothy was gone. Killed in a car accident. My reality was truly this awful dream forever.

“Here,” Fallon said as she handed me a glass of water. When I grabbed the glass, she took a cool wet rag and wiped it on my forehead, my face, the back of my neck. “That must have been an intense dream.”