Twelve of Roses

“Come on. I’ll show you to our room.” He turned and headed for the large white staircase, and I followed him.

I took in the house as we went, feeling a resonating ache make its way through my soul. This could have been my home. It was exactly as I pictured it. He even added the rustic accents I used to lie in bed and describe to him. He did everything right, and at the same time did so much that was unforgivably wrong.

He tried so hard to make us normal. While he had been busy trying to find ways to fix us, I was busy dragging us further into hell.

I stopped walking, staring at his back as he kept going. Losing him the first time was hard; losing him again would shred me. I lived and breathed him from the time I was seventeen years old.

He was all I knew, even after I tried to erase his memory with painkillers and liquor. The fire was supposed to have freed both of us from whatever this dance was that we kept doing.

“Con,” I choked out around the lump in my throat.

“Rosie?” He turned around and looked at me, his lips pressing into a thin white line. “What is it?”

I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t, and I didn’t want to waste any more of our time together.

Not when this was the last time it would happen. I could tell he was catching on that something wasn’t right, but fuck if I cared anymore. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his mouth down to mine.

Chapter Twenty

It’s ironic.

We seek comfort from those who hurt us the most. The one who inflicted my pain was the only one who could take it away.

I wasn’t a man afraid to admit that I was in love. The wound she tore open in my chest was far from closed, but I couldn’t let her go. I pushed her against the wall and took everything she had to offer. Our teeth clashed, I dug my fingers into her hips, and she threaded hers in my hair.

She ground herself against me, softly moaning into my mouth, dropping her hands to my pants and frenziedly undoing the button on my jeans and pulling down my zipper. I pushed her sweats down, taking her underwear with them.

There was no foreplay, whispered words of love or apologies. It was two people fucking. I hooked her left leg over my hip and shoved my dick inside her pussy as hard as I could. She loudly hissed and moaned from the harsh intrusion, digging into my shoulders with cat-like claws.

I didn’t attempt trying to hush her. I wanted her to scream for me. Her little pink tongue swiped across my sweaty chest, her perfect mouth forming an O with every thrust.

It was a goodbye fuck.

The kind where you used your body to say everything you couldn’t. What was a little more destruction when all we did was wreck one another anyway?

She was saying bye to me.

I was saying bye to her.

Each of us had our own version of how it was all going to end.

I pulled out and grabbed her by hair, dragging her through the door right beside us, ignoring her cries of pain. Backing up until the backs of my knees hit the bed, I sat down and guided her over my cock. She didn’t need any instruction.

She straddled me, sank her tight pussy down, and started to ride. I gripped her fleshy ass, pushing up and pulling her down. Harder. Deeper. She was getting wetter.

Her hot little breaths and quick gasps made my balls want to burst. I sucked her nipple into my mouth and bit. I let her ride me until she came, stroking the sensitive nub between her legs.

Before she could even come down, I had her on her back, halfway off the bed and feet planted on my chest, pounding into her so hard my balls began to suffer from smacking against her ass.

We fucked and fondled until exhaustion forced her into slumber.

As she lay breathing on what was supposed to be our marital bed, I memorized every inch of her body. I wanted to smother her and steal the air from her lungs, pull it all into mine so we would be together even in death.

I laid with her, letting the rest of the house settle. When the timing was right, I kissed her cheek gently and then slowly made my way out of the room.

Molly was first.

I crept into her room and watched her sleep for a few minutes. She must have sensed someone standing over her because she woke up.

Her eyes went wide when she saw the knife, but she never got the chance to scream. I drove the blade straight down into the center of her forehead, making impact with her frontal lobe. Pulling the blade out, I brought it back down, this time going for her neck, jerking from left to right to sever her head.