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Max had been saying something as he reached for me in the moment before Bunny interrupted us. It frustrated me how badly I wanted to know what would have spilled from his lips if she hadn’t.
How could Max make me feel like this when I hadn’t seen him in years? I wanted to believe I’d grown, that I’d moved on, that I wasn’t going to let myself be affected by what had happened. The same something that warned me not to enter my flat the day my life was ripped apart was telling me I needed to watch out. As I re-joined my friends, I resolved to keep my guard up. He’d already wormed his way under my skin and into my mind. I had to protect my heart, or anything could happen.
Max
Iwas finally alone. I stood in my kitchen and let out a breath, enjoying the cool air from the open fridge on my naked body. I grabbed a beer and closed the door, shutting out the only light in the flat before padding through to the living room.
It was midnight, dark and quiet, with only the murmur of voices from the streets below to keep me company. I liked it like this. When the room was dark, it was like I was the only person alive in the world. The soft streetlight blanketed the sofa, and I could just make out the outline of the bookcase that held my music awards, my giant TV, and my first acoustic guitar tucked into the far corner. Hidden in the shadows were the hundreds of souvenirs and trinkets I’d collected from our world tours. I loved travelling, exploring new countries and cities, meeting people, learning about cultures, and seeing the gorgeous scenery and architecture. It was why my TV was so huge, so I could watch documentaries on nature, art, architecture, travel, and humanness —anything that inspired a sense of beauty within me.
Bunny lay naked in my bedroom, gently snoring after she’d demanded sex. I finally had space to think, to relive the serendipitous meeting that had been at the back of my mind all day.
I blazed through the recording session back at the studio that morning. Then it was an interview with Vogue Magazine about Bun and Clutch’s collaboration combined with a photoshoot, followed by a push through rush-hour traffic to make it to her Dad’s for a wonderfully awkward lunch, where I was shown again just how much Theodore Collins disapproved of me. Then another photoshoot, a quick stop to redo makeup and update social media for Bun, finishing in a four-hour rehearsal with Bunny and the band until we finally made it home, only for Bunny to pull me into the bedroom.
It was mental. I remember having a full schedule when Clutch was at its peak, but people usually came to us. And we could drink all day.
I was sure Bun had been planning on fucking me since we left Cat’s office, maybe to remind me of what I had? Like this marriage hadn’t been forced on me and I wasn’t trying to make the best of the situation.
I threw myself onto the sofa, leaning back and closing my eyes as I sank down, surrendering for the day. The dimness in the open-plan room gave me a feeling of space and emptiness, letting me release all the tension that’d been building since I’d said goodbye to Cat.
I wanted to say it had been a long day, but, really, I just had to make an effort and it annoyed me. This engagement was becoming more work than the band, and I was resenting it.
Clutch had enough staff that every aspect of our lives was taken care of. We had people to organise tours, cook for us, to tell us where to go and what to do, but we never got to make any decisions. If we switched ourselves off and just let ‘them’ take care of it, life was pretty easy. They laid everything out for us, and we took our lives for granted. The middle of the night was the best time to be alone.
I grabbed a blanket from the arm of the sofa to keep warm. I’d just come out of the shower, but I saw no point in putting on more clothes. I preferred being naked.
The most stressful thing was trying to record with Bunny being Bunny. The guys all knew about the arrangement, and they weren’t impressed. Bevel even complained she was clashing with our image, which was a surprise since he didn’t really give a shit about anything but his smokes and his guitar.
To go from recording, to being surrounded by people at the photoshoot, and then suddenly thrust into the world of the Collinses’ London villa, it was no wonder I was shattered.
All of this meant I was thoroughly done with Bunny’s shit by the time we met the band for the second rehearsal. We didn’t get back until 10 pm, and that’s when she jumped me.
I threw my head back, looking up at the ceiling, releasing a sigh as the memories slipped through me.
God, it felt like a year since Cat dug those pretty red nails into my shirt and nearly ravaged my mouth. The force of her, her strength, her presence. It had been following me all day. Even when I was inside Bunny, I was remembering how close Cat had come to pushing down on my balls with her foot.
Had she been wearing the suit for someone else? Was there someone waiting to pick her up from work, someone who would drive her home, itching to peel her suit from her body the moment they got through the door? Every inch of her was delectable, and she knew it. I couldn’t stand the idea that someone else might touch her.
I groaned gently and took a sip of the beer. An image of her glaring down at me came without warning, and I leant into it. She was magnetic, dynamic, something to behold. I couldn’t get enough.
I balanced my beer on a cushion and slid my icy hand under the cover, my cold fingers at war with the heat of my throbbing cock. If I kept my eyes closed, it was Cat’s hand there instead.
I spread my legs. What I would give to have her touch me again, even if she snapped at me.
Especially if she snapped at me.
I was feeding off her hate. I wanted to see what she would do to me, how she would unleash her rage. Maybe I was putting more into it, imagining she was some demon queen, ready to exact her revenge. It was my fantasy. We could be whatever I wanted us to be.
I caressed myself. It ached, my cock still tender from coming, but I liked the sting of it. The stroke of my hand joined the rhythm of my thoughts.
It took time to work myself up again. Images flared behind my eyes, sounds filled my ears, and words flowed through me.
I should pin your balls to the chair and chop them off for what you did to me, you lying piece of shit.
Pure magic.
How could I describe what it meant to have her threaten to tear my balls off while devouring me with her eyes?
I wasn’t sure, but I could try.
