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Sliding the soft material over my length, feeling it slicked with precum. Pumping my hand over my cock faster, I continue staring at myself in the mirror.
Reaching down, I cup my balls in my hand and squeeze lightly. I wish she were watching me. The thought has me so turned on right now. My hand moves faster. I’m going to come soon.
Dropping the panties back in the dresser, my eyes close, and my breath is heavier as I feel the familiar hot burn of my orgasm. My whole body tightens, a feeling of pleasure overtaking me as I release my cum onto the pink fabric of her panties.
“Fuck, Summer.”
Grunting out the last of my climax, I open my eyes and stare at the puddles of cum with a smile. Putting my dick away, I turn from the dresser, leaving her panties right where they are for her to find, and with two strides, I return to the cracked photo frame. Picking up a piece of loose glass, I take the stairs quickly now, heading into the kitchen. It’s small, white and clean, except for the coffee jar on the counter. Replacing the lid, I move it out of the way, staring at the pristine white counter.
Holding out my left arm, I grip the glass shard. Fisting my hand, I carve her name into my inner arm, feeling the burn and sting of the blood welling up. The adrenaline has me shaking, my heart still thumping from the release.
Watching as my blood falls in crimson splashes against the bright white, I lower the blood-stained glass. Swiping my finger through the wounds on my arm, I write my name in blood on the white countertop with a slow smile as I think about her horrified reaction to this. I almost wish I could stick around to see it, but my presence here will dull the sinister nature of such a gesture. Tinks needs to know she’s mine, and the second I find out who that fucker in the photo is, he is dead meat.
8
SUMMER
Grabbing the keys to my car from the mechanic, and thanking him with a strained smile, I pay the bill, eager to get out of here.
After Ciarán scared me by pursuing me after work, I’d gone straight to Amelia’s house, seeking refuge. The thought of his eyes on me, watching my every move, had been enough to send shivers down my spine.
Embarrassed about what I’m about to do next, I climb into the car and set off, grateful to have my wheels back. Driving out of the parking lot, I nervously glance at the GPS on my phone, directing me to a clinic forty minutes away from my usual route. It’s humiliating, but I can’t risk running into anyone I know.
As the car eats up the miles, my grip on the steering wheel doesn’t loosen, making my hands ache. But I’m clinging to it like a lifeline. The question of how Ciarán found out where I work is gnawing at me. Bugging and irritating me. Was it a coincidence that he came into the store while I was working and saw me there?
Eventually, after following the directions and still getting lost, the clinic comes into view, and I swallow hard, gripping the steering wheel even tighter. With my heart pounding, I park the car and take a deep breath. As much as I hate this, it’s something I need to do for my own peace of mind.
“Summer,” I whisper, trying to calm myself. “You can do this. You have to.” The words are like a mantra, helping me find strength in their repetition.
My grip slackens on the steering wheel as I prepare to face the inevitable humiliation of explaining why I need to be tested for STIs. Driven by my fear of what Ciarán might have done to me, I force myself to step out of the car and walk toward the clinic entrance.
Inside, the sterile smell of disinfectant surrounds me, doing little to alleviate the dread that has settled in the pit of my stomach. As I approach the reception desk, I rehearse the words in my mind, trying to keep my voice steady and my expression neutral as I try not to fidget in Amelia’s too-tight clothes that she lent me this morning.
“Hi, I’d like to get tested for STIs,” I say to the receptionist, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. The words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, it feels as though the entire clinic has gone silent, every pair of eyes on me.
As the receptionist hands me the necessary paperwork, I steel myself for what’s to come, determined to face whatever consequences might lie ahead. Whatever Ciarán’s intentions might be, I refuse to let him control me.
Filling out the paperwork, I hand it back and take my number before sitting down to fiddle with the handle of my handbag. There are three people in front of me, which isn’t too bad. Trying not to make eye contact or even glance in their direction, when my number is called, I leap up and launch myself at the nurse, who leads me into a consultation room.
After several swabs and bloodwork later, she also cautions me about pregnancy. Knowing I’m on the pill, she still scares me into agreeing to be tested for that as well.
Leaving as if the devil himself were after me, I climb back in the car and lean my head back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. That was the single worst experience ever. Future me is completely and utterly sold on never having drunk sex with a stranger again.
Too bad past me has left me to deal with this and Ciarán now.
Locking my doors as I think about those intense blue eyes, I set off home, glad to have the next two days off work. I can hole up with takeout pizza, movies and books and not have to think or worry about going out and Ciarán finding me again. What I’ll do when I have to go back to work is something I can think about later. Right now, the shower and my comfy pjs are calling to me.
The moment I pull into the driveway, it feels like the heavy weight has lifted. I’m home, safe and sound.
Fumbling with my keys, my hands shaking, I finally manage to unlock the door. As I step inside, the familiar scent of home hits me, providing a small sense of comfort. I close the door behind me and lock out the rest of the world before I lean against it, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
“Two days,” I murmur under my breath. “Two whole days off work.” A chance for me to regroup, to regain some semblance of control over my life. But with Ciarán seemingly everywhere, even this small reprieve doesn’t feel like enough.
As I stand there, alone in my quiet house, I focus on my breathing, trying to push away the fear and desire that have become so intertwined when it comes to Ciarán. He may have power, but I refuse to let him wield it over me.
Feeling slightly empowered by my bold musing, without further hesitation, I head straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click. The sound of the running water fills the room, and as I strip off my clothes, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. The shower promises a brief respite from the intensity of my emotions, a chance to cleanse myself both physically and mentally.
As the hot water cascades over my body, I let out a sigh of relief. The steam fills the small room, blurring the edges of my vision and wrapping me in a warm, comforting embrace. For a moment, it feels like an escape, a temporary shelter from the dark world that has become my reality.
