Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
I smile down at Callum, captivated by his jet-black hair and pretty gray eyes. He’s a work of art. Such beauty. Such artistry. A masterpiece for the ages. God, the Devil, or whoever dreamed the idea of Callum, understood the true aesthetic of perfection.
I twist my hands in his shaggy hair, yank his head back, and spit on his blood-stained face. “Be a good boy, Callum, and do as you’re told. We wouldn’t want me to force you now, would we?”
Callum laughs as he raises his right hand, holding the crimson blade toward me. “I think it’ll be fun to fuck a bloody hole in your body, Atlas. Remember the first time you let me do this? These guys do the job, but there’s nothing better than watching my cum drip from your bloody stab wound.”
I answer him in silence because I’m incapable of forming words. The two sides to Callum. One deranged and one bursting with compassion. I never know which one I’ll get. I’ve consoled myself with the realization that it doesn’t matter because I love both parts of him. The good and the bad. The angel and the demon. Is this my warped devotion to God? Like the blind allegiance of my father’s disciples? Because I’d bow down and accept Callum’s wrath if it meant I could bask in his splendor.
“Is that what you want, Callum? To fuck my wounds? Do you want to breed physical harm on my flesh to match the wounds on my spirit?”
Callum smiles as he lifts my shirt and trails the tip of the blade along the name scarred on my flesh. “I don’t know, pretty boy. Why don’t you cut the crap and tell me what you really want?”
“Fuck,” I groan as I slam my dick into Callum’s warm mouth. “You sound so much better when your mouth is full of my cock. I think I prefer you like this, Callum. Unable to speak.”
My head falls back, and I focus on the cement ceiling with its glaring fluorescent lights. This room is a construct to harbor our madness.
I thought I was finally free when Mona’s sister killed my father. Callum and I could start something new without the weight of our past weighing us down, but we couldn’t do that because of her. She burrowed into the deepest parts of us. Parts we weren’t sure still existed. Spaces that were consumed with vacant memories of kindness suddenly became blaring beacons.
Confusion washes over me as I hold Callum down, forcing him to choke on my cock. My hands aren’t gentle. They aren’t kind. I relish dominating him. Yet even with this exaltation flowing through my body, my heart hammers wildly as I witness Callum gasping for breath.
Icy dread grips me: unspoken desire, a terrifying weight threatening to shatter my fragile composure. Callum allows me to have something I desperately want but am too frightened to voice. The unraveling of his mind reveals my reflection, exposing a terrifying image of my true self. I can’t escape my situation even if I want to because I love the madness and desire the insanity. There is comfort in my gilded cage, shrouded by the darkest shadows.
“I said nothing when you bought the building she lived in so you could install those security cameras in her apartment. I said nothing when you left at the crack of dawn and came home late at night so you could watch her at work. But I’m saying something now. Your obsession with her will blow up our lives.” The words hang heavy in the air, each syllable a hammer blow shattering the fragile remnants of our happiness.
I pull Callum’s hair, removing his mouth from my dick.
“It’s my life,” Callum croaks.
I shiver at the empty, methodical tone of his voice. A chilling stillness, consumed by anger and controlled rage, radiates within me. “Our lives, baby boy. It’s our fucking lives. You think I have a life without you? You think I could breathe without you?”
Callum pushes the tip of the blade to the first scarred and raised letter on my skin. It’s a reminder that while lies may slip from my lips, the truth is visible and permanent on my flesh. “You want her, too. I see the way you watch the videos. Pretend all you want, Atlas, but I’ll always know you’re a liar.”
I wrap my hand around Callum’s mouth, desperate to shut him up. I don’t want to face what he’s revealing. The truth he’s shoving down my throat is a bitter pill to swallow, like every other reality about my life. “Maybe it’s my fault,” I spit. “Perhaps I should’ve kept you on a leash so you knew your place.”
In a flash, I’m bent over the stainless-steel table Callum keeps in the garage. My pants pool around my feet, and Callum chuckles in my ear. “It’s so cute that you think you’re in control. It’s only because I allow you to be, pretty boy. You think you can keep me on a leash? No, baby, you’re my toy. A toy I sometimes allow to get the better of me because I enjoy getting railed by your big, beautiful cock.”