Page 334 of Coal Hearts

Me clawing at a woman all while she didn’t even notice me. Didn’t care about me. Didn’t acknowledge me as I fucking drove into her again and again, begging her to feel me, respond to me, to open her fucking eyes and see me.

Sickness clawed up my throat as the sensation of losing something I’d never had poured through my fingers.

I took her harder.

Like a beast in heat.

A male desperate to crawl inside his mate.

And in the midst of my musk, she merely trailed her hand between her legs and touched herself. Rubbed herself in ways she hadn’t taught me and tore apart whatever propriety and shyness she’d clung to.

She masturbated...and I was just the dildo she used to come.

And she did come.

Hard.

Her belly flexed as her mouth opened wide.

Her cry as she tumbled over the edge echoed with thunder.

Her pussy fisted me.

Her body fell without mine.

Each ripple, every clench reminded me that she’d found bliss without me.

She hates me.

I stumbled back.

My cock withdrew and I wedged a hand into my belly as I folded in half and struggled to catch a breath.

I turned lightheaded, lost—

Another crackle of lightning tore my head up.

Electrical power showered Ily in icy-white sparks as she sat up on the table and dared steal Victor’s merlot. Throwing it back, she smiled and tossed the glass onto all the other shattered dinnerware on the floor.

Another boom of thunder.

Followed by the loudest clang.

The metallic twang worked its way through my bones like a pebble tossed in water.

Victor soared to his feet and glowered at a man in the corner. A man with a large padded drumstick standing beside a huge circular gong. “You idiot, it’s pouring outside. We’ll play tomorrow—”

“We’re playing now.” The middle-aged white guy stepped toward the ballroom doors and flung them wide. Wind funnelled in. Muggy and wet, whipping up tablecloths with mini tornadoes. “You said we had to wait for Henri to stop napping like some hibernating squirrel. Well...he’s just proven he’s very much awake.” Standing with his back to the storm, he grinned. “So, I ask you, guys. Who’s ready for a goddamn treasure hunt?!”

“After that display of fucking?” Charles said from the table next to ours. “Hell yes.”

“Those who want to play raise their hands,” the white guy shouted over the rain.

Every single Master raised their arm.

Victor shook his head. “You’re all imbeciles. You’ll get struck by lightning.”

“At this point, if I don’t fuck something my heart will stop anyway.” Roland laughed.