Poison

I pulled those panties back out of my pocket and wrapped them tight around my dick and thought of Anna Blackwell’s pretty little mouth as I fucked her spit out of her.

I thought about her hungry asshole and the way I’d made her take it so fucking rough.

I thought about her dirty little smile and how that made me burn deep.

I thought about her sweet whimpers as she took whatever I gave.

Then I came in that filthy lace with a grunt and a curse, like every bit the filthy man she knew so well.

Unfortunately for Maya, that man was nothing like the version of me she’d come to know so well. Not in the wake of the pathetic little shell of the man she’d worked so hard to pound into nothing.

And that man wasn’t ever coming back.Chapter ThirteenAnnaSo much for my intention to avoid drama.

I’d been such a moron for letting my phone run out of battery and scare Vicky shitless.

She’d messaged my parents and Nicola and told them exactly what I’d been doing, and now three of my most solid supporters were armed with the most solid lashings in my direction.

I felt like a criminal ploughing through my week and trying to keep the confrontations at arm’s length, and maybe I was a damn criminal. Maybe I’d disrespected everyone who truly gave a shit about me, as well as disrespected myself, but it was a bit too late for that.

Nicola had been a wave of solid attack for days on end. Message after message telling me what an idiot I was for venturing anywhere near Lucas Pierce and demanding she get an evening in my presence to tell me so in person.

My parents had been worse. Not only screaming down the phone about how insane I was for daubing my self-respect in lighter fluid and setting myself in flames, but screaming about how ridiculous I was for casting aside the perfect Sebastian Maitland, with his perfect consideration for my wellbeing.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I knew it.

I’d already had months of the same scathing mantras on loop. What the hell are you doing? What the hell are you doing? What the hell are you doing? Only this time they were far more frantic. More cursing and hissing and telling me what a stupid idiot I was for selling out something so good for something so bad.

I was torn up with the whole sorry lot of it. So torn that my mind felt severed in two, jagged and savage on the edges.

On one hand, I believed their disgust. I felt the concern behind their criticism. I agreed with every curse and scream of Lucas Pierce’s name.

On the other, there was so much more. A scream of a very different kind inside me every time I heard his name.

I was a hamster on a wheel as I threw myself into my work that week. Meetings and minutes and consultancy calls taking up my time. Distractions that were short-lived but essential. Projects piling up, colleagues reaching out for extra insight, and hell, I gave it.

I gave it all, just to save myself the stress of working through my own fucked up headspace.

I gave it all, just to save myself the stress of realising just how much I wanted Lucas Pierce.

Friday was a long time coming after those busy days in the office. I should have been looking forward to a couple days off, long lie-ins and chocolate in front of the TV. But the looming weekend was nothing but a pang in my gut, knowing that the onrush of people wanting to shout at me was imminent.

I cleared my desk into some kind of order as the afternoon drew to a close, then waved goodbye to Stacey and Lucia as I headed out through reception and made my way home. I hadn’t given much thought to anything other than the Kirby Project that day, and was happily pushing my concentration onto what I wanted from the local supermarket as I dashed on in with a basket.

Broccoli, beetroot, some salmon fillets. Orange juice and makeup wipes and a big slab of milk chocolate. Nothing particularly exciting. Nothing stressful. Nothing whatsoever that should’ve led to the swirl of senseless thoughts that marked the onset of my seizure.

Boy needing a sharpener. Again. Again. Kicking. Month reports. Boy. Again.

It took seconds. Barely more than a breath. No warning for me, and no warning for anyone around me.

My debit card was hovering by the machine, the attendant grinning over as my brain let me down and went blank to the world.

There was sickness as the seizure slammed in hard. A horrible wobble of nausea as the woman’s face in front of me started speaking an alien language.

I didn’t understand her. Couldn’t understand her. Couldn’t understand myself. Didn’t have a clue where I even was.