Page 72 of Coal Hearts

I’d never been good at listening to myself.

Stalking toward the scrap of cream lingerie, I snatched it up and ran my finger over the piece that’d been nestled against Ily’s cunt.

I froze as my thumb stroked the fabric.

Wet.

I stumbled against the wall.

My mind gushed black, seeing her all over again.

Bent over.

Moaning as I fingered her.

Trying to stop me...

Without any control, without any strength to stay human, I jerked off my boxers, wrapped her knickers around my pounding cock, and marched into the pouring shower.

Hot needles pierced my skin as I raised my head to the torrent, braced one hand on the black iridescent tiles, and fucked myself.

My hand squeezed.

My fist pulled and punished.

Ily’s underwear soaked with water, mixing with her own previous wetness, sending me straight into the darkest pits of hell.

My hips thrust into my palm.

My sac drew tighter, tingling with an impending release.

I gave in to self-abuse, causing pain—delicious fucking pain—all while my mind swarmed with fantasies far sicker than any of Victor’s tapestries.

Ily’s face shot into my thoughts.

That single delicious tear as she’d looked at her ex and realised he never deserved her. A tear that I’d sampled. A tear that sat like ice in my stomach as I gasped and grunted and chased a release that’d tormented me ever since I met her.

“Christ.”

I came in ribbons of lacerating pleasure.

Strings of cum shot free, painting the tiles in white before washing away.

I let myself go as the erection that’d haunted me for hours finally deflated.

I’d wanked for self-preservation. For self-control. I told myself all manner of things.

But I knew.

I knew how close I was to snapping and honestly didn’t know how much longer I’d survive.

My hands shook. My heart ached. My head pounded.

The orgasm left me hollow and utterly unsatisfied.

But...it also gave me clarity.

A crack in the storm. The barest sliver of light.