Текст книги "Fable of Happiness book three"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Jareth inhaled with icy understanding. “They were your bullet.”

Kas nodded, not looking at me. “The day when I finally decided to end it, I was gonna drink myself into that numb nothingness and then walk out into the snow and go to sleep.” He rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat. “It helped knowing they were there...just in case. It gave me the strength to read as much as I could and figure out how to cultivate and hunt. I figured I could die anytime I wanted, but while I was alive, I preferred a full belly over an empty one.”

I swallowed hard, blinking fast.

In just a few paragraphs, Kas had revealed more about his struggles than he had in weeks. It made me want to hug him for turning a corner and slap him for taking so long. I hurt for him, all while I wanted to jump up and down in joy.

If talking was healing, then...he’s healing.

Jareth turned his head and pinned me with his bi-colored eyes. “He hasn’t told you any of that, has he?”

Kas stiffened beside me. “I wasn’t ready to share.”

“And you are now?” Jareth asked, his lips tipping up in a cruel smile. “You ready to tell her everything, Kassen? The way Storymaker had a hard-on for you even though he never stuck it in you? The way he made you watch when he’d fuck Quell—”

“Shut it—” Kas hissed.

I stepped in front of him, almost brushing my chest with Jareth’s, acting as a shield between him and Kas. “He doesn’t need to tell me. I know enough—”

Jareth rolled his eyes. “You don’t know shit.” Backing up, he drank a large mouthful from his glass before sprawling into the chair by the fireplace. He winced in pain, revealing Kas’s beating still affected him; even if he was so layered in coldness he seemed impenetrable. “See, the thing about my brother and me is...we don’t need to talk about it. He looks at me, I look at him, and we know. Most of the time, we were in the same room while shit happened.” He took another large mouthful. “Remember, Kas? Remember that time Storymaker bound us together. Our wrists together, our asses up. It was one of our first times serving together, but definitely not the last.” His eyes tightened as if he deliberately relived all the pain of that night. “We held fucking hands while they raped—”

“Enough!” I shouted. Fear siphoned through me. If he pushed Kas too much, he’d snap. He’d black out. His mind would trip, and self-preservation would delete every topic he couldn’t handle. “Whatever you think you’re doing, stop it.” I balled my hands, defending Kas from someone I never thought would become his enemy.

What the hell was Jareth doing?

Couldn’t he see that Kas was fragile? That he needed psychiatrist help not to be forced down a monster-filled memory lane.

“You want to go there, Jareth?” Kas threw back his entire glass of alcohol, sitting on the couch behind him. “Fine.”

I spun with my mouth open. “What? No...you know what will happen.” I sat beside him, sloshing the strong-smelling liquor onto my hoodie. “You’ll black out again. You’ll—”

“It’s okay.” Kas patted my leg, squeezing me tight before reclining into cushions. He looked oddly resigned and...ready.

Oh, God.

Was he truly going to do this?

“It might trigger you again—” I rushed.

“I can guarantee most of the shit inside my head will trigger me for most of my life.” He tipped forward with his glass as Jareth shoved to his feet and poured another round, sending amber liquor right to the top.

“Then why?” I asked, shaking my head as Jareth tried to top off my own untouched drink.

“Suit yourself,” Jareth muttered under his breath, stalking back to this seat and pouring an equally generous second glass for himself. “You’ll be begging for some liquid courage once we get to the good stuff.” He winked. “It’s not your typical bedtime tale, Gemma Ashford.”

I squared my shoulders. “Then I don’t think it’s necessary. Kas can work through whatever triggers he has on his own time. We were doing fine before you came along.”

“Oh, please.” Jareth laughed hard, mocking and rude. “You weren’t doing fine. From what I gather, it’s been a monotony of him trying to strangle you—which, by the way, was Storymaker’s thing with Kas. Did he tell you that?” Jareth’s eyes shot with evil, glittering brown and blue ugliness. “Want to know the reason he has such a fascination with your elegant little neck?”

I held up my hand. “No. Not unless Kas is ready—”

“He might never be ready. Consider me doing you a favor, silly girl.” Jareth wedged his elbows onto his knees, his fingers turning white around his glass between his spread legs. “Kas was the favored one. And by favored one, I mean the most mentally fucked over.”

Sickness rushed up my throat. I held up a shaking hand, looking at Kas. “You’re seriously going to let him spill everything? All the stuff you couldn’t say to me? The past that has such a hold over you?”

Kas licked his bottom lip, his face pensive and wild. His long hair lay tangled over his shoulders. His scruff made him look more suited for living in the woods than drinking expensive alcohol in a decadent mansion, but beneath it all was a stranger.

A man I’d fallen in love with; a man I both feared and fawned over. A man who wasn’t just waking up but had woken.

His eyes met mine.

He held my stare until my heart jackhammered and my chest was too tight, and then he whispered with a wisdom I hadn’t heard in his tone before. “You asked me why? Why talk about the things that will trigger me? The things that I doubt I’ll ever forget? The things that bind me and Jareth past blood, past family, past hell itself?” He took my hand in his, his fingers cool from the glass and strong. So, so strong. “It’s simple, Gem.”

I swallowed hard as he traced my knuckles with his thumb. “Nothing about this is simple.”

“It hasn’t been. I agree.” Kas nodded. “But it is. I didn’t understand before. But it’s so fucking simple.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand.” Goosebumps ran up my arms as he let my hand go and took another drink.

Lowering the glass from his mouth, he gave me a gentle smile but behind it lurked steel. A rod of iron. A decision forged with mountains and stone. “A choice. Everything I’ve been running from, hiding from, unwilling to face was because I chose not to remember. I chose to let it beat me into something I’m not proud of. It made me hurt you. It made me hurt myself. It will eventually end up killing you, me, and the future I’m fighting so goddamn hard to deserve with you.”

He leaned back, propping his elbow on the armrest and inhaling deep. “It’s taken me a long fucking time—an embarrassingly long time that I’m not proud of—but...I’ve finally made a different choice.” He sucked in a breath, his voice going as cold as Jareth’s. “For all the shit that I did remember, I forgot one fundamental piece.”

Jareth grunted, sounding just as wild as Kas looked. “You forgot who you were...to us.”

Kas shook his head. “I forgot who I was to me.”

“You were more than just our brother, Kas. You were the reason we all didn’t die in here.”

“And you were the reason I did what I did.”

Jareth pressed a fist to his heart. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll give it. If you need death, I will grant it. If you need truth, I will speak it. If you need another punch to the skull to wake you the fuck up and remember who you are, then I’ll beat you until my hands are raw.” He smiled with a reverent threat before pointing a finger at me. “You want to deserve her? Fuck that, you already do. You deserve her a thousand times over.”

I shivered as Kas didn’t speak. He watched Jareth. He breathed, but he didn’t speak.

Jareth threw back the rest of his drink and poured a third. He licked his lips as he settled back, getting comfy as if this was a casual night between friends. “Go on then, Kas. Tell me why I gave you one chance in the forest. Why I would’ve happily killed you if it meant protecting that girl sitting dumbfounded beside you. Tell me why you’re the only fucking person I will ever trust for the rest of my life. Tell her. Tell yourself. And maybe, I can be the savior in this story. I can rescue you this time, just like you rescued me.”

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CHAPTER EIGHT

THAT WAS THE THING about choices.

Most of the time, we made them without even thinking. Sometimes, outside influences made our decisions for us. Other times, we’d allow others the responsibility. But most of the time...it was on us.

And that was a hard fucking pill to swallow.

Because of my decisions, I’d lived in this valley like a thoughtless beast for a decade. I’d allowed a past—a past that should’ve had no power over me—to have all the power in the goddamn world over my dreams, my actions, and my heart.

I let a choice almost kill the girl I’d fallen in love with.

I let a choice cripple me until I was a pathetic, repetitive, poor excuse of a man who ought to be locked in a padded room and fed antidepressants for the rest of his life.

But I no longer wanted that choice.

I no longer wanted to be afraid of falling asleep. I didn’t want to have to chain myself to a bed so Gemma was safe from me. I didn’t want to ever run the risk of waking up and finding her dead because I let my choice to hide become so much bigger than who I’d been.

And who had I been?

Fuck, he would never have become this...this thing.

This constantly afraid, always angry, forever fucked-up thing.

Once upon a time, I’d been the bravest of us all. No matter what mental games Storymaker played with me, I never broke. No matter the physical torture or sexual perversions, I didn’t let it touch me. Jareth was right that my penance for strangling came from my own experiences—yet another thing I’d shoved so deep, deep inside me, I’d all but convinced myself it never happened.

Storymaker never touched me sexually, but he got off on taking me to the brink of death before bringing me back. It didn’t matter where I was in Fables: heading to the bathroom, coming back from a guest, sneaking into the kitchen. If he found me, his fingers would find my throat, and I’d be his to murder, only to wake up to his firm slap a few moments later.

I’d adopted his sickness.

I’d slipped into his habits of control.

And that was yet another punch to the face because I refused to be a monster anymore.

Back then, it wasn’t suppression or amnesia that’d kept me strong—it was the knowledge that I had something to fight for. A goodness that never died inside me.

I was strong and kind and, Christ, how had I forgotten that?

As surely as I’d forgotten Storymaker’s enjoyment of squeezing my throat, I’d forgotten that I never let him break me.

Sure, I’d broken toward the end.

I’d drowned beneath nightmares and could no longer touch my own body, but that was after years of abuse. That was after thousands of hours of putting myself between my family and monsters. That was understandable.

It didn’t make me weak or worthless.

It didn’t mean I had to live the rest of my life hidden and alone.

If I hadn’t done what I did...then the grave outside would’ve held Jareth, me, and our family. It would’ve housed nine slaves instead of the many guests I’d slaughtered.

Only Jareth knew why I’d struck so violently that night. He’d overheard the same conversation I had. We’d been used together—a regular occurrence by that point. Seemed Storymaker deemed we were both the dangerous ones, the ones most likely to shuck conditioning—therefore the ones who needed the most reminding that our actions directly affected the others.

It’d been a game of Mirrors.

Storymaker had come up with it himself. The rules were one guest would touch a slave, and that same abuse would be done to the other slave, only ten times worse. I always begged to be the one receiving the magnification.

Most of the time, Storymaker agreed, sitting beside me while I was whipped, fucked, or burned. His voice constantly in my ear, praising how good I was, how bad I’d been, how much he loved watching me suffer.

That night, though, he’d made Jareth be on the receiving end.

Storymaker beat me with a cane until he split my skin. But Jareth had it worse. For every strike I received, he’d gotten ten. For every thrust from a guest, splitting me in half, he’d endured twenty.

By the time we were released, we half carried each other back to the dorm, stumbling past the library as Storymaker wiped his brow and adjusted his hard-on, muttering to a guest we couldn’t see that he’d grown bored of us.

That it was time for new stock, new slaves.

We were worn out.

It was time for an upgrade.

I’d thought Jareth had forgotten what we’d heard. He’d crashed out cold when we’d fallen into his bed. I hadn’t had the strength to untangle myself from him and ended up passing out in his embrace.

Our blood mingling. Our arms entwined around each other.

And when I woke, I’d been sickeningly hard—not because I wanted him or because we’d watched each other be raped so many goddamn times, but because the comforting warmth of a sleeping body had reminded me of everything we’d lost. Everything we’d been denied. Everything we deserved.

Shaking my head, I tossed back my second drink and eyed the brother who would always know me better than anyone else. We shared a look. He climbed to his feet and crossed the room to pour me a third glass. And when he sat back down again, I grabbed Gem’s hand and released eleven years of fucking forgetfulness.

I made a choice to move on.

To no longer let it define me.

To bury it in the past where it belonged.

I looked at Jareth, answering his previous words. “You gave me one chance because we both learned that goodness can’t be faked. I deserved that chance because you needed to see for yourself that I was still me. That something inside me was still alive and would fight tooth and fucking nail to be worthy.”

Jareth nodded; Gem inhaled.

I continued, “But if I blew that one chance, you would’ve killed me without hesitation. Not because you learned what I did—that evil can masquerade as good but will always eventually show its true colors—but because of her.” I squeezed Gemma’s hand, locking eyes with her. “Jareth would’ve killed me, not because he chose your life over mine but because I’d already made that choice. If he’d let me live and I ended up killing you, then two lives would’ve been on his hands because I would’ve killed myself the moment I realized what I’d done.”

Gem’s eyes filled with tears.

I wanted to wipe them away, but I wasn’t done yet. I wasn’t done purging. “That’s not something I should admit. You shouldn’t have to carry that sort of weight, knowing the man who’s in love with you isn’t stable enough to survive without you. One day, I will be. One day, I will be strong enough to be everything you need, everything you deserve, but in the meantime, what I can give you is a promise.

“A promise that I’m done with all of this. I’m done being sick in my soul and not just my head. I’m done letting a concussion amplify all the unresolved shit inside me. But most of all, I’m done not fighting for what I deserve. And fuck it, I deserve you, Gem. I deserve you because I will fight every monster who ever dares to come near you. I will protect you, provide for you. Not a day will go by that I don’t do whatever I can to keep you safe and happy.”

I pointed at Jareth, adding with a thick voice. “It’s what I gave him and the rest of my family. It was an honor to care for them, even if it almost robbed me of everything. And I’m not afraid anymore. I’m not afraid that I have nothing left. That I can’t give you what you need. I know I can because I’ve finally made a different choice.”

I swallowed hard, my heart huge and pounding in my chest. “If the white blankness comes for me, I will wake up whole. I will not forget. Never again. I’ve made a choice to stay. To be here. To move on.”

I threw back half of my drink, needing the courage to speak the last few things that burned on my tongue. “Jareth says I’m the only one he’ll trust because he knows I would’ve died protecting him. Love makes me loyal. When I choose to care, I’m all in. You already know bits and pieces of my past, Gem. You’ve heard me screaming in my sleep. You’ve put two and two together. But if you want to ask questions, I will do my best to answer you. If you have fears about how I’ll treat you, I will do whatever I can to assure you that I’m different. It wasn’t Jareth who reminded me of who I am...it was you.” I turned to face her, my knee nudging hers. “It was you from the start, pulling me back into the light, forcing me to wake up even when I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now. I’ve made that choice, and there’s no going back.”

Jareth threw back his third drink, raising his empty glass in a salute. “Bravo, brother.” He glanced at Gem. “Think you can handle that confession? Any questions? Want to know how many guests he’s slept with? How many toys he’s had shoved up his—”

“No,” Gemma snapped, taking a large mouthful of her own drink, finally joining us in our strange somber party. “Like I said, I know enough.”

“You sure?” I asked gently. “It’s not that I want to fill your head with the same kind of filth I carry, and I won’t deny that it still fucking kills me remembering my family’s pain when I couldn’t protect them, but you asked me once why I couldn’t speak about it. That reason is gone now. And if you need me to share—”

“I only wanted you to share so you could be free, Kas.” She gave me a tentative, almost worried smile. “I appreciate you making the decision to stop running. And I’ve long argued that it’s because of your suppression that your memories have such hold over you, so I’m glad you’re ready to face them, but...”

When she didn’t continue, fear crept down my spine. Had I said too much? Did she think differently of me? I knew it was a lot to take on, but I thought she already understood who I was. “But?” I asked, my heart thrumming in my throat.

She sighed and downed the rest of her drink, cringing against the fire left on her tongue. “I’m over the moon to hear you’re ready to get better. I’m holding back ugly tears that you’ve already improved so much. And you know I will help you every step of the way. Love makes me loyal too, Kas, and I will do whatever I can to help you.”

“But...” I waved my hand.

She raised her chin, tears still gleaming in her hazel eyes. “But I don’t know if it’s as simple as making a choice. Do you honestly think you’re...cured? That you can sleep beside me now and not succumb to a nightmare that might end up with you trying to kill me?”

“I’m willing to take precautions to ensure I don’t get that far, but yes.” I nodded firmly. “I refuse to let Storymaker have any hold on me whatsoever. I’m done.”

“If that’s true, you know what you need to do then, don’t you?” Jareth asked slyly, pouring himself a fourth drink. At this rate, he’d self-medicated past any feeling, let alone numbing whatever pain my fists had given him last night.

I shot him a warning look. Just because I’d followed his lead and willingly shattered any remaining doors and walls inside my head, allowing past and present to mingle freely, didn’t mean I was ready to—

“Touch yourself, Kas.” Jareth sipped his bourbon. “Grab that cock of yours, spank it, throttle it, do whatever healthy, horny men do, and prove to me that you’ve claimed ownership over that part of your body. Unless you do that, I don’t know if I trust leaving Gemma in your company without a chaperone.” He grinned, winking at Gem. “After all, if sex between you two is like what I saw today, then the poor girl deserves better.”

Gemma’s cheeks pinked. “He was being honorable. I encouraged sex to prove a point to you. To show he was safe—”

“He’s not safe until he can come by his own hand.” Jareth grabbed his own crotch. “The day I was free, I claimed this back as mine. I got high, locked the door, and fucked myself over and over again to prove a point. To prove to myself that me and only me gets to play with this. I get to decide who’s permitted to touch it.”

And how long has it been since that day, brother?

I’d watched him, reading what he wasn’t saying.

I might’ve been alone for eleven years, but Jareth...he still wore the newness of freedom. He didn’t look settled into the novelty. He still glanced at the door with panic camouflaged as boredom. He still stiffened if Gemma moved too quickly or something rustled against the window.

Wherever Jareth had been for the past decade...it’d been worse than living alone with only nature to keep me company.

I opened my mouth to ask about the scar on his cheek, but Gemma balled her hands and asked, “What about the girl you killed? Was she allowed to touch you?”

Jareth sucked in a harsh breath.

“Wait, what?” My eyes shot to his. “Who was she? What the fuck happened? Tell me.”

“Nah, think I’ll keep that tale for another day, thanks.” Jareth leaned back, deliberately spreading his legs, his hand grabbing a fistful of his cock. The look in his gaze looked half dead, half psychopath. “Come on, Kas. Follow my lead. You’ve got enough booze in your system to ignore your righteous rules.” Jareth snickered, speaking to Gemma, “Did you know, he’d actually turn around and not look if Nyx or the others got undressed in the dorm? He acted as if seeing them naked wasn’t allowed even though we’d seen every part of each other thanks to the games we were forced to—”

“Enough.” I held up my hand, my headache back and throbbing. “I’m not masturbating in front of you.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Fuck off.”

Jareth stopped rubbing himself, digging both hands into the armrests and leaning forward. “You’re jerking off in front of me, and I’ll tell you why.”

Anger poured through me. My hands itched to connect with his face again. “I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night.” I went to push to my feet, aiming to confiscate the bourbon before he went sloppy drunk. But the room tilted and roiled, reminding me for all my progress today, I still had a concussion. I still had a medical condition that could take years to solve, according to the damn book in the library.

“You say you’ve made a choice,” Jareth repeated my earnest decision. “But I don’t believe you’re fully committed to that choice unless you get off on your own.” His eyes hardened. “We both know that’s when the nightmares started and when shit got bad for you.”

I bared my teeth. “I was serving twice as much as anyone. Trying to protect you lot was why I started struggling—”

“So, you’re blaming us?” Jareth went deceptively still; pain flared in his eyes before he covered it with animosity. “We didn’t ask you to volunteer, you know.”

“I’m not blaming you, and you know that’s not what I meant.”

He threw me a thin smile. “Yeah, I know. What really fucked you up, brother, was the day you lost ownership over your own body. The day you let them take your cock from you was the day your nightmares kept us all awake.” He leaned forward, pointing at my crotch. “So have at it. Prove to me that you’re well enough that I can leave without wondering if this valley will need another grave.”

Gem sucked in a breath beside me as Jareth continued to stroke himself over his pants, the outline of his erection becoming visible the longer he touched.

“Not tonight,” I snapped, my eyes straying to the bottle of bourbon. My mouth wanted more fire. My head wanted more medicine.

“Yes, tonight. I’m not sticking around, Kas. Let’s push your buttons. See if it triggers your PTSD again.”

“Fuck off, Jareth. I told you, I’m not masturbating in front of you.” I grinned nastily. “Then again, maybe this isn’t about me, after all. Maybe you missed me after eleven years of not having me in your bed.”

“Fuck you.” Jareth flipped up his middle finger, his eyes gleaming with shared history. “My cock and your cock were never involved, thank God.” He dropped his hand and pointed at Gemma instead. “But your cock and her pussy are very much involved. And you know as well as I do that some triggers are harder to overcome than others.” His voice dropped from harsh harassment to genuine concern. “You truly want to run the risk that a silly thing like unresolved issues might end the future you guys obviously want?”

Gemma glanced at me.

I glanced at my crotch.

As much as I hated him pointing out the obvious, he was right.

I’d opened myself up to my memories which had somehow allowed them to disperse and scatter, leaving my head clearer and quieter than it had in all the years of trying to repress them. But that? Willingly touching myself?

I didn’t think I was ready.

I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready to endure the flames of agony that burned my palms whenever I tried to masturbate. The physical pain was a phantom—I knew that—but it was too ingrained in my psyche to ignore. To linked to horrors that’d turned my body against me, made me the monster, the rapist, and the sick seducer.

Jareth shot from his seat and brought the bottle of alcohol to me. Grabbing my empty glass, he poured another drink right to the top. Wordlessly, he patted my shoulder before moving back to his chair. Adding more to his own glass, he raised it and waited until I did the same.

Saluting the air between us, we shot it back.

The burn worked its way down my throat and into my belly, licking with heat and sudden lust. My libido had tormented me on and off throughout the years. It’d grown overwhelming when Gem arrived, but now...now it was afraid.

Afraid of realizing that for all my promises of making a choice, I might not have one where touching myself was concerned.

I might snap again.

I might black out.

I might forget...

Gem shifted next to me, her thigh aligning with mine. Electricity sparked between us, crackling with awareness and that special zing that said she was the one for me. The one born and destined to be mine.

Slowly, as if she moved underwater, her hand landed on my thigh.

My nostrils flared as she inched her fingers upward, sliding between my legs. Sudden, heady need coiled in my gut, making me harden.

I held my breath as she traced the outline of my cock, rapidly swelling the longer she sat so close. Her fingers teased me with a barely-there stroke designed to make me mad.

Sucking in her bottom lip, she placed her palm over me, her hand warm even through my shorts. Rubbing me up and down, she made my eyes flutter, turning heavy with desire and submission to give in.

Jareth sniffed and reclined, not saying a word.

Sex in front of someone wasn’t new to me. It’d become normal thanks to the open doors and sharing protocol between guests. But this...it wasn’t like that.

This was private.

This was more intense than anything in my life.

Ripping my eyes away from Jareth, I jolted as Gem fisted me, squeezing me as best she could with my shorts still baring her skin from mine. Shifting onto her knees, she inhaled fast and shallow as she reached for my hand with her free one.

Her touch was like fire on my flesh.

My instincts screamed to pull away and not let her do this. But the whispers and memories in my head encouraged me. All the times I’d supported my family. All the tears I’d wiped from their faces and all their screams I’d swallowed so Storymaker wouldn’t punish my loved ones, reminded me that if I could do that for them, then I could do this for me.

With gritted teeth, I let Gem guide my hand to where she fisted me.

Every muscle in my body stiffened as she splayed my hand and placed it where hers had been, wrapping my own fingers around my erection.

The neat bourbon buzzed in my veins, giving me false confidence to do something I hadn’t been able to do in years. With my right hand cupping myself beneath Gem’s touch and my left gripping the armrest of the couch, I fought the rush of sickness, the shortness of breath, the chaos inside my head as she forced my fingers to fondle.

Pleasure shot through my belly as I squeezed.

Dread, disgust, and detestation followed swiftly after.

My body demanded more than just a squeeze. My hips wanted to rock. My balls tightened with the need to release.

But I still couldn’t move my hand.

Gem shifted higher onto her knees. Running her touch over my knuckles, she removed her hand from mine and cupped my cheek. Turning my head to face her, she kissed me.

Her lips feathered over mine, distracting me, igniting a fierce need to shoot through my veins.

My cock went rock fucking hard beneath my hand.

She moaned into my mouth as I licked the seam of her lips.

She let me kiss her deeper, losing myself to lust and sensation.

My fingers squeezed around me, instinct taking over.

A part of me clawed for more.

The other part howled to let go.

Sweat broke out over my forehead.

Christ, why had I allowed Storymaker to have such control over me? This was my body, goddammit. My cock. My decision.

I kissed Gemma harder, anger pouring through me. Injustice and frustration and every other shitty emotion I’d been repressing for far too long ignited. With strength I didn’t really have, I wrapped my fingers tighter around my length.

And I made another choice.

A choice to defeat this part of me.

A choice to take back what was stolen.

My mind spluttered with present and past. Ghostly voices whispered in my ears.

I pumped once.

“That’s it, darling Kas, get nice and hard for Levin. I could spit on it for you, give you some lube.” Storymaker grinned. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you dirty boy.”

Fuck.

My hand opened on its own accord, still controlled by panic attacks and self-preservation. Ripping my touch away, I sucked in a tattered breath.

“Don’t let him stop, Gemma,” Jareth snapped from across the room. “He can’t stop.”

Instantly, Gem’s hand found mine, guiding it back onto my cock. Before I could argue, she kissed me again. A kiss full of sharpness and cruelty, keeping me locked with her, drowning beneath the passion and salvation she poured down my throat.

My fingers wrapped back around my cock on their own accord, welcoming this piece of myself, familiarizing themselves with the shape of my body, the steel of my need.

My eyes snapped shut as I was pulled in so many directions. Backward with awful memories, sideways with Jareth’s instructions, forward with Gemma’s intoxication. I did my best to focus on the taste of bourbon on our shared tongues, the slight drunken buzz, and Gem’s subtle scent.