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“I must go,” he says when he breaks off the kiss.
The door closes softly behind him as he leaves, and I fall onto the bed.
Something suddenly occurs to me; I hope he wasn’t kissing me goodbye.
There are so many things starting to go wrong between us all, and I don’t know how this is going to play out.
Chapter 23
Tino
My phone beeps, and I glance down in time to see the text. I frown as the picture loads after it.
The picture sends a shot of pure fury and lust straight to my veins. I’m not sure which one wins out, but it’s a heady fucking battle between them, for sure.
Mackenzie is on her knees, her ass raised, her upper body taut as her arms are tied, above her head and spread to the sides, attached to the headboard. Her legs are spread, and, hanging down, protruding obscenely from her red, puffy pussy is a fucking hairbrush.
Mack’s ass, thighs, and hairbrush are covered in the thick, creamy ropes of Kirill’s cum.
She looks degraded, and beautiful, and I want to go and mark her with my own offering, because fuck him, but why does Kirill always think he’s the one who gets to proverbially piss on his territory?
I don’t even understand why he felt the need to send the message. I don’t really care that he fucked Mack. It’s up to her who she screws among us and when, but taking that picture and sending it with that shitty message is fucked up.
Dom isn’t like me. He needs to think he’s in charge, and he’s going to lose his shit when he sees this.
Kirill just threw a fucking grenade into the room and shouted boom, the utter asshole.
I hesitate, unsure what to do. Do I call Dom and talk him down? Or call Kirill and try to figure out what he’s playing at.
Why the fuck do I feel like I’m stuck in the middle?
My gaze darts to my nightstand drawer. I need something to even me out before I deal with all this shit. Why the hell can’t everyone get along? I never wanted to take part in a dick-swinging contest, even though I know I’d be the one who’d win.
My thoughts go to Mackenzie as well. Does she know Kirill took this photograph of her and sent it to us? Is she going to be angry with Kirill, too? I thought that was more like something I’d do.
I open the drawer and take out my bottle of pills. I unscrew the cap and pick one out, and then hesitate and shake a second into my palm. I need them, I tell myself. The pain is bad—it’s always bad—and if I’ve got to function like a normal human being, then I need my meds.
I toss them into my mouth and dry swallow.
Instantly, I feel better, even though I know the medication can’t have worked so quickly. The knot of anxiety in my chest loosens, and my muscles relax. The buzzing in my head—like my brain is filled with a million mosquitos—also subsides. Sometimes it feels as though I’ve got insects crawling under my skin and through my veins. I catch myself scratching at my skin, clawing my nails in to try to rid myself of an irritant that doesn’t even exist.
I wonder what the others would say if they knew just how deep I was getting into this shit. Nothing good. The longer it goes on, the deeper the hole I’m digging gets. I’m not sure how I’m going to find a way out of it, or even if I want to. A part of me just wants to be left alone with my bottle of pills, but I don’t want to disappoint my friends.
Screw them. I can do what I want. If they’re going to fuck everything up, at least I can still turn to the pills.
My heart wrenches at the thought. I don’t mean that, really. I’d be lost without them—without Mackenzie, too. Right now, they’re the only thing that’s occupying my thoughts and stopping me thinking twenty-four-seven about the Oxy. Losing myself in Mackenzie definitely helps, but only while I’m with her. As soon as the high from climaxing has worn off, I’m thinking about how long it’ll be before I can get my next hit.
My phone buzzes in my hand. A call from Dom is coming through.
With a sigh, I swipe the screen and answer. He speaks before even giving me the chance to say hi.
“What the fuck is Kill playing at?”
I try to keep things reined in. “He’s got a lot of shit going on right now. He’s not thinking straight.”
“He’ll not be thinking straight when I punch his head so hard that he does a fucking good impression of that kid from The Exorcist.”
