12. Ash

Chapter Twelve

ASH

“ I want to go home,” I grumbled for what felt like the millionth time.

Lamb did not care.

“What about this one?” Lamb countered, raising a red vase that had caught his eye. He handled the bizarre-shaped pottery. It was wide in the middle and shrunk to a tiny point at the base. I doubted the thing would even be able to stand on its own, never mind with flowers in it.

“Sure. Get that one,” I huffed. I had been fed up after the first twenty pieces of décor that Lamb had shown me, and after the slowest-paced wander through the kitchen crockery and appliance section, I was now frustrated.

“You don’t like it?” Lamb repeated his infamous, finishing words as he put the pot back onto the shelf, managing gracefully to stand it upright alongside its clones before moving us farther down the aisle.

“Read my lips,” I growled, grabbing him by the lapel of his coat and turning him to face me. He turned easily with my pull, face lowering the small gap to my own, eyes wandering down to my lips. “I do not care. I want to go home.”

Lamb’s ears weren’t working, and his mouth must have malfunctioned as he stared back at me in silence. His eyes jumped back and forth between my own, a burning heat penetrating through the dark sunglasses. They slid down to my hands wrapped tightly into the material of his coat and then travelled oh so slowly back up to my lips, his tongue darting out over his own.

The images jerked through my head, the feel of his hands around my neck, the warmth of his hips pressed into mine, and the soft growl that vibrated down my jaw and landed deep into the pit of my stomach.

I jerked backward, letting him go. I threatened to fall but quickly caught myself, the ache in my foot lost to the pounding heat flooding my core.

Fuck.

Something had loosened in my chest with that kiss earlier, but I could not explain what it was or what it meant. Self-control had been siphoned by his touch, and now I was like a fish floundering out of water in front of him. I was distracted, panicked, and, most of all, really, really wet.

“How about this one?” Lamb had already moved on, picking up a small cat ornament off the shelf above my head. It was a cursed thing; wiry fur, black abyssal eyes, and a hunch rivalling Ben Nevis.

“Yes, adorable. We will get it,” I pleaded, near tears beading in my eyes as that encroaching tremor began to ripple through my muscles. My throat had long since dried, and the headache I had battled earlier lingered at the back of my eyes, ready to jump back into action.

Sensing my irritability, Lamb skimmed his eyes from my head to my toes in that piercing, clinical way that made me feel naked in front of him; and not in the sexy, hot way. I felt exposed, and all I wanted to do was curl up into a fetal position in the corner and never move. It was more chilling than the snowy winters spent in parking garages or rainy days on public park benches.

“Look, just give it to me and let us go pay,” I said, reaching for the cat ornament. Lamb did not fight me when I took it out of his hand. His gaze was wandering over my face, a frown placed on his.

“Can I help?”

I spun on my heels as a voice travelled over my shoulder. It came from behind me, and I panicked at the proximity, one foot stumbling over the other, nearly throwing the cat ornament. I could see it about to smash into a million pieces as my body landed flat on top.

Lamb was next to me in a flash, my shoulder crashing into his firm chest, a strong arm catching my back and stopping me, and the cat, from hitting the floor.

“Sorry!” the woman gasped, alarmed at my sudden movement. “I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“It’s okay,” Lamb reacted, flashing that deceptive, sweet-as-honey smile. “My wife is just a little skittish.”

“Wife?” I choked. “I am not your wi—”

Lamb’s hand tightened around my waist, pinning me close to his side. “Not yet.” He looked down at me, his eyes crinkling with adoration. “We’ll be married this spring.” I had to give him credit; he was a good actor. Probably studied it in How to Fake Being a Human 101.

“Oh, how lovely!” The woman smiled, clapping, a bright smile on her rouged cheeks. For a moment, I was sure I saw her gaze flicker between me and Lamb and something crossed her eyes. It disappeared behind her professional veil, and she moved into her sales pitch. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re shopping for today? I’ve seen you wandering around for a while.”

“We’re looking to redecorate our home. Everything’s a little … blank.” I did not miss the short flicker back to my face with that comment.

I huffed at his pathetic storytelling as Lamb described our house and “wedding” plans. The woman ate it all up, while all I wanted was to stomp on his perfectly polished shoes. I would revel in the look of pain on his face and watch that mask fall and crumble to the floor. I would want to take a photo, fold it up, and keep it tucked in my back pocket for when the dark nights crept in.

I had been in my head a little too long as, suddenly, I was being tugged along. Lamb had wrapped his arm around my waist, and we walked in step with the saleswoman guiding the way deeper into the shop. More importantly, farther from the exit.

“What is happening?” I whispered, glancing over his shoulder as my prized exit disappeared. “Where are we going?”

Lamb did not look my way, but I saw the small smirk creeping up the corner of his lips. He was up to something. I knew it.

“Here it is.” The woman smiled, swiping her hand toward the premade display bed. A deep rich red nearly burnt into my eyes at the sheer loudness of the colour. It was intense and almost sensual with the quilted edges and the pinched seams giving it a quilted look, the homely sense clashing with the overtly sexual red.

It was horrib—

“Perfect. We’ll take it,” Lamb interrupted my thoughts.

“We will what ?” I strangled.

“Amazing. I’ll get one all packed up for you.” The woman smiled. “It’s such a beautiful colour for your soon-to-be newlywed bedroom.”

“I’ll take them all.” Lamb caught her just before she escaped.

“ All of them?” The confusion was visible on her face.

“It’s best to have spares,” Lamb explained as the confusion now began to infect my own face and mind. “We’ll be needing to change our sheets often.”

Even her professionalism could not cover the shock of that one. A sharp cough leapt from her throat as my own jaw dropped open. “O-of course, sir. I’ll get them all ready for you.” Her rouged cheeks doubled with a natural, flaming blush as she all but ran away into the back.

“Why the hell did you tell her that?” I seethed, trying and failing to pull away from his grasp. He pinned his arm tight to his side, holding my hand in place, and even with my slim wrists, I could not find the strength or dexterity to escape. “Let me go.”

“Absolutely not.” Lamb smirked. “You, my wife , and I, your husband, will be very busy. I told her we were planning to have seven children. Five boys. Two girls.”

“SEVEN CHIL—“ I choked on the words. I could not even think. “You are insane!” I gawked at this man who was proud of his accomplishment. “Someone has infected you with malware or something. Your motherboard is fired. Ka-put. Boom. You understand?”

Lamb raised a brow at me, not all getting what I was saying. But that was to be expected with his broken hardware.

“I will make it simple,” I said, pulling on my trapped hand and leading him away from the stop-sign red bed. “You are malfunctioning. We need to leave before that woman comes back.”

Lamb dug in his heels, and we weren’t moving anymore. For a slender man, he knew how to throw his weight around when he wanted to. Arsehole.

“I’ll make it simpler.” Lamb smirked, reaching forwards and plucking the little, scruffy cat out of my hand. “We’re getting the sheets. And this.” He wagged it in front of my face. “You get to pick something, and so do I. Team effort.”

“We’re no team,” I growled. “We are a kidnapper and his victim.”

He thought about it, his tongue pressing into his cheek like he seemed to do whenever he was thinking deeply about something. And just as I thought he could not spout worse gibberish than he just had, he said, “I prefer the term Master.”

“I will die before that word ever leaves my lips—ever,” I punctuated, just in case he did not get how serious I was. “ Comprendo, mi amigo ?”

Lamb smiled in response.

Great, now his comprehension skills had become corrupted. How did you hard reset an AI robot in disguise? Did he come with a manual? Sex Bot Reset for Dummies. Because, let us be serious, with a face like his, that was exactly what that man was made for. That or to infuriate poor people just wanting to live their lives. Like myself.

If I had thought my father was petty enough, I would believe he had made Lamb for the sole purpose of slowly torturing me to death. It was cruel, even for a man who had shot me the first five times for fun, trying to kill me only with the sixth.

“ Come on, wife .” Lamb began pulling on me again, dragging me from my thoughts. “ Let’s get home and get a drink into you. ”

It took a second before I realised … “Did you just say that in Spanish ?” I blurted out, whipping to him.

Lamb did not stop, heading toward the counter and pulling me along. I saw the woman come rushing up with a couple other shop employees, carrying bags of what I could only guess was every single set of that red duvet.

“Didn’t you?” Lamb countered.

“Yeah, but—You speak Spanish?” I frowned.

“So do you,” Lamb countered.

“Yeah, but it is not fair if you do,” I argued, knowing I sounded like the petulant children I despised. “I had to learn it. Physically. With books. It took years .”

“And how do you think I learnt?” Amusement seemed to slip into Lamb’s voice, his tone softening, sending a quick glance my way as we rounded towards the counter.

“A software update.”

Lamb laughed. Like, full-bellied laughed. It was jarring on him, his normally cold, sharp features softened by the soft, animated expression. He almost looked human.

I was so fascinated by him that I missed how much we had travelled in a small moment, and now we had reached the counter. Shaking off his juxtaposition, the only relief I got from this whole experience was that the staff were also looking at the order placed at the checkout like the man before them was crazy. That and some of the younger female staff, and even some of the male staff who had gathered at the counter to watch the bizarre event, were giving him long, lingering stares. Lamb was sex on a stick and no doubt drew attention his way. Hopefully, he was just a bright enough light for me to hide in his dark shadow and not illuminate me like a neon sign right next to him. Regardless of our parading around the mall, it was still best I was not seen, or worse—recognised.

Fortunately, the staff paid me little mind, their eyes transfixed on the hot but eccentric man now buying about twenty sets of the same bedding. I bet they could not wait until they got home to tell their partners, friends, and parents all about what had happened at work today.

Neither could I.

Except, I did not have parents. None who had not tried to kill me. Or friends. Or a partner …

Guessed I would talk to myself then.

Lamb placed the scraggly black cat onto the counter, earning a curious look from the saleswoman. “That, too,” he added before pulling out his phone from his back pocket.

“Sorry, sir,” the woman said as Lamb double-tapped the screen and reached over to the card reader with his phone. “Banks don’t allow contactless for orders over—”

Beep.

“I think I’ll be okay.” He gave her a pleasant smile, and she just looked at the card reader with wide eyes, swallowing down her words.

Great, now he is communicating with other electronics.

“Okay …” she breathed. “ Enjoy … your purchase.” She gave me a sympathetic smile, and I would have burst into flames if I could.

“We will.” Lamb reached over to grab the several bags, and I leapt for joy at the thought of escaping his grip so I could sink as deep into the Earth’s crust as lava burnt me to a withered crisp, never to be seen again. Instead, Lamb grabbed the several bags with ease into one hand and lifted them from the counter like they weighed nothing more than a few hundred grams.

I cursed under my breath, reaching forwards and snatching my damn cat from the counter, and waited for him to lead me out of the shop.

This trauma would require more than a glass of whiskey to get over.

Perhaps a few thousand.

“ A dvanced Latin?” I scoffed, staring at the ridiculous array of language books stacked alphabetically from the top down to the bottom. “Who even needs to know Latin anymore?”

“Most modern languages have roots in Latin or Greek. Learning both can help your ability to comprehend the others,” Lamb countered, wrapping the fresh white bandage over my foot. His fingertips rested on my calf, not enough to hold me still, but just so his warmth bled through to my skin. Static from his touch ran up my thigh and into places it did not need to be.

“Oh, so you know Greek, as well?” I coughed, trying to hide the effect his simple touch was having on me as I read through the spines on the bookshelf. I could see the names of a few of the bigger-worded textbooks, but the other fine prints were lost to me in blurry blotches.

Lamb tied the knot of the bandages before turning and pointing at a book, a little higher up. I could not read it, the fine lettering on the spines too blurred to make out, but I did not have to, to know he was pointing at what would no doubt be a Greek textbook.

“What is the point of having all these bookshelves for show?” I grumbled, my head flopping back on the bed. The red silk sheets cupped my head, and I would have felt worse for touching the vile thing if the exhaustion had not begun to creep in. I was supplied with a consolation drink upon arriving back at the house, my ratty little cat in hand, and now I was feeling the soft buzz washing over me, the warmth still tingling at the back of my mouth as the sweet whiskey lingered on my tongue. Life was good … if only for a moment.

“It’s just a place to keep them,” Lamb interrupted, standing and looking down at me. “I’ve never needed to revisit a book I’ve read once before.”

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his smug face. Of course, he did not need them again. They were probably just for show, with little cutouts in the middle, hiding the USB or microchip they inserted into his brain to transfer the data.

“So, you can just read any book once?” I asked, wondering once again why I was torturing myself like this. I had quizzed him on the way home, too. Knowing four languages fluently, and another five or six at least conversationally was a devastating blow to your pride. I knew three languages, and I could not even claim I knew them fluently. Learning them had not been much of a priority as I was growing up. I memorized enough to get by, doing well enough to stay off the radar, but I was not out there to impress anyone. I had long since given up on that.

“Usually,” Lamb said, pottering about with the drawers to the dresser. “If it’s just a textbook or blocks of information. Sometimes, if it requires more interpretation and comprehension, it’ll take a little longer to read, but once is still normally enough.”

“Right. Of course.” I sighed, rubbing a hand over my eyes. I had changed into a set of pyjamas; a pair of long pyjama bottoms and one of Lamb’s long shirts that had somehow made their way into the small selection of clothes that had magically appeared in the dresser one day.

Lamb was getting a little too comfortable playing house with me. I was a doll in his little house for him to bathe, and dress, and brush my hair. He seemed to think he could order me to do anything, and I would run to fulfil his every command. I wished we could go back to the traditional kidnap; chains, basements, and a little starvation never killed anyone. This was torture.

“Come on; sit up,” Lamb probed, his voice echoing in my tired ears. He slipped his fingers around my wrist, warmth shooting over my skin, the hairs standing on end.

“What?” I growled, trying to shake him loose. “Why?”

“I need to turn down the sheets.”

“No,” I grumbled, rolling onto my side and pulling my knees into my chest. “I will just sleep here. Like this.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?” I peeped one eye open, staring down at Lamb as he lingered at the edge of the bed. His head was cocked to one side, his eyes deceptively playful as he stared at my curled-up form.

“It’s going to be hard for both of us to fit, if you lay like that.”

That got my attention.

I jerked upright. The daze of the alcohol made me misjudge my stop, and I nearly threw myself face-first off the bed in surprise. “ You are sleeping here?” I internally cringed at the rising octave in my voice.

Lamb had caught it, and I saw the small twitch of his lip as he nodded.

I stopped giving two shits about my voice because the matter at hand was too serious to divide my attention.

“You cannot sleep here.” I folded my arms over my chest, shaking my head. “I will not allow it.”

“ You will not allow it? ” Lamb repeated, a brow raising high into his distinct and full hairline, arms folding over his chest to mirror mine. “I don’t think you have a choice, sweetheart.”

“Just because I am the kidnappee and you, the kidnapper, does not give you the right to crawl into my bed.”

“Don’t you mean my bed?” Lamb countered, that smile now in full show. He knew he had the upper hand in the argument, and there was no chance of an underdog win from me. Besides, I had long since known that if Lamb wanted something, there was nothing I could do to stop him from having it. The man looked like a sports car but bulldozed through life like a freight train set loose from its tracks.

“Fine,” I conceded, knowing when a tactical retreat was necessary. “You sleep on the bed; I will sleep on the floor.”

I planted my feet on the floor, pushing to step past him, giving him access to his plush, bloodred monstrosity of a bed. I did not want to sleep on it, anyway. The familiarity of the floor, even one covered in a soft, plush carpet, was a better bed than wet cardboard, and it would do me just fine.

Or it would have.

The soft material slipped around my wrist, and the click I had heard more times than most struck my ears.

The leather cuff was soft, with a fabric inside to stop any chaffing, and the little metal padlock rattled against the metal loop holding both ends of the cuff tightly around my wrist. Not even a little bit of room for me to squeeze my hand loose. I was well and truly tied.

It got worse.

I looked to where the chain led, the short, barely half-a-meter chain linked to its identical pair, locked around the wrist of none other than the enemy himself.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I growled, looking from the leather cuff up to his face. He locked eyes with me, the deep brown a near black in the dim lighting. The single lamp light hugged all his sharp features, as that smug smile still settled on his curved lips.

“Looks like we’ll be sleeping together after all.”

I was not given a moment to argue. Before I could fight or run, or whatever else stupid thing Lamb must have expected me to do, he had his shoulder ducked and in the middle of my waist before I could act.

The whiskey lurched up my throat, and I bit my tongue to stop vomiting all over the place, though, in hindsight, covering his back in my stomach juices would have been a fair return as he tossed me onto the bed.

“You bastard,” I hissed, fighting the birds and the stars spinning around my head, the world rocking beneath me as Lamb flicked his side of the covers over onto my body and slid inside the bed, turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness descended on the room, and there I was, on top of a red, silk bed with my mentally corrupted AI kidnapper powering down next to me.

“What the actual fuck?” I seethed into the darkness.

“Go to sleep,” Lamb audaciously said from next to me. Perhaps Lamb did not power down. Was it something more like battery-saving mode? Standby?

“No,” I growled. “Toss me and tie me up all you like, but do not tell me what to do and think I will just do as you say.”

“If I thought you would do as I’d say, then I wouldn’t have had to tie you up or toss you,” Lamb responded, the darkness starting to settle in the world around me, some blurred shapes hinted at by the minimal light leaking in from the suburban neighbourhood outside.

“We agreed that forcing me did not work,” I argued back, wishing desperately that my vision was not as bad as it was; that I could make out just enough of his form in the dark to land an unsuspecting hit. Right now, however, I was in more danger of attacking his pillow or throwing myself off the other side of the bed than managing to at least get in a satisfying attack.

“You’re right,” Lamb agreed, surprising me for a moment. A really short moment.

“Then take this off.” I jostled the cuff, the chain clinking softly against the sheets.

“No,” Lamb said. The short moment ended.

“ Why ?” My frustration began to rise in my chest, and whatever buzz the whiskey had kept me subdued with was wearing off fast because I was craving another bottle. Or crate. Or barrel. It would be the only thing to stop me from committing murder. I had killed once already; Lamb would just be another notch on my metaphorical murder bedpost, so to speak.

“It’s assurance,” Lamb explained, his voice patient and lacking any inkling of killer intent, unlike mine.

“More like a leash.” I shook it again to press my point. “I am not some pet, you know.”

“I’ve never once thought of you as a pet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I growled, pushing myself to sit in bed. Fortunately, the chain was long enough that we weren’t forced to hold hands. I stared hard at what I assumed was the direction of his sleeping form. It would be awkward to turn on the light and find I was ranting in the opposite direction. “You take me out for walks.” The mall. “Give me treats when I behave.” Whiskey. “Bathe me and brush my fur.” Self-explanatory. “And now you tie me up in case I run away.” I shook the chains again. “If I am not a pet, then what am I?”

If I had been expecting a verbal answer, I was severely mistaken.

I found I had been facing the correct way as his body slammed into mine. One second, I was sitting up; the next, I was flat on my back, my head slamming into my pillow, and a firm, hard, warm body pressing down on me. My breath escaped out of my lungs, his sandalwood and cedar scent overwhelming this close as that familiar leg pressed between the gap of my own, his hard, muscular thigh pressed right into my core.

“You are the single most baffling thing I have met in my life,” Lamb answered, his breath rolling over my neck, tingling heat in its wake. My nipples hardened against his chest, the vibration of his voice travelling through his sternum, into my chest, and down between my legs. “You confuse me in ways no one and nothing ever has. I can’t figure you out, and in my world, that is rare. People have patterns and goals, but you …” He hesitated, and his nose touched against the side of my jaw, running along it, tracing it up to my ear and down the artery in my neck. “Patterns very rarely change, but it’s like yours have never been set. One moment, you seem like you want to live; the next, you act like you’re ready to die.”

“So what?” It was as if his claws had sunk deep into my chest, touching a part of me that nobody, especially not him , should reach. “You are going to fix me? Make my patterns right again?”

I tried to move, but Lamb’s grip was firm. I had no way to grapple him or shove him, his hands pinning down my wrists. It was frustrating, but Lamb was a healthy, strong man, and I was a sick, weak woman. In just strength alone, we were severely outmatched.

“No.” Lamb shook his head, his nose still pressed into the soft nape of my neck. He lifted his head, a gentle brush of his hair passing over my chin. I could not see his eyes in the dark, but I could feel his breath running over my lips. “I don’t wish to change you.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice so quiet I barely heard it. “And for me, that is a first. You frustrate and confuse me, but even so, I cannot and will not let you go.”

Lamb’s grip loosened on my wrist, but it did not disappear. Instead, his hand slipped from my arm, trailing slowly over my elbow, travelling to my shoulder, tracing the lines his nose had made up to my throat. His fingers paused over my pulse, my heartbeat no doubt thrumming beneath my skin, a heat now rushing from his fingertips, over my chest, and up to my face.

“What if you cannot keep me?” I whispered, my voice breaking as the weight of those emotional claws sunk deeper into my chest, into my heart. The need to attack and push him away still burned bright inside, stinging its way up my throat and behind my eyes, but I did not move. He held me still, no longer just by his body pressing into my hips, his hard length luring my own centre to press closer. But the weight of his fingertips placed on my skin was enough that I was static beneath him.

“Be it your father, the world, or even yourself, no one will be able to take you from me now,” Lamb vowed, his voice deep and gravelly, emotions he didn’t seem to understand lacing tight into his words. Emotions I did not, and feared I would never, understand, either. “I’d bet everything on that.”

I did not know what to say. I did not know if there was anything I could say to that. What did you say to a man who said he did not care for your opinion, and that you belonged solely to him?

“But if it is a collar you want so badly,” Lamb purred, his palm sinking down over my throat, fingers bedding into my skin, holding me there, still and tamed, “I will oblige.”

Ah. That is right.

“Fuck you,” I hissed, my free hand now awakening to reach up and—

He grabbed it. I could feel that smug look on his face as his thumb pressed tight against my wrist, my fingertips just brushing that annoying soft blond hair he bedazzled people with.

“Dickhead,” I hissed. “It is not like anybody would have noticed a clump missing from your head.”

“I don’t mind hair pulling.” Lamb’s voice rippled through the air, a new husk to his voice that had not been present a moment ago. “But at least let me give you a better reason to do so.”

He pressed my captured hand to the back of his neck, my other pinned hand, now free, and placed in the same spot.

“What are you—oh God!” I hissed, the chain jostling as his mouth sunk hard onto my neck. The bastard moved fast, rocking his hips to each suck and graze of his teeth and mouth against my nape. His intention was not to free my hands but his own as they sank down to my hips, holding my body still as his hard length pressed against the thin cotton bottoms.

“Lamb,” I groaned, heat burning and aching with each roll of friction rubbing up over my folds and my clit. I had no knickers on beneath the bottoms, and there was no barrier as the heat from his own body seared straight into mine.

Both my hands were now wrapped around his neck, wanting to push him away, but physically unable to do anything but hold on. Even without his hands locked around my hips, my muscles wanted to rock in time with him as each torturous movement sent treacherous shivers deep into my core. The friction was building, my warmth soaking into my crotch to the point I doubted you could even call this dry humping any longer.

Lamb, a master of multitasking, apparently, pressed his chest harder into mine, my nipples bordering on pain as their tight little buds rubbed against the firm motions of his chest. The silk was deceptive, and the sheets beneath me did nothing to hold me still as we both began to slide up and down the bed with the motion. All it did was add to the momentum as my body slammed back into him with each increasing thrust of his hips against mine.

I nearly gasped at the hard point of his dick catching the centre of my entrance. The sponginess of the mattress had altered the angle of my hips as the force increased, and now, with each motion, the tip caught just on my entrance, pushing just past the surface before breaking free and sliding up to slam into my clit.

“Oh God,” I moaned with each poke and slap of my clit building a lava-hot fire inside. It was slow, and the friction had felt good at first, but now, it was bordering on torture as I rose and rose with no end. “Lamb, stop,” I moaned, my fingers wrapping tightly into his hair, hoping they’d be the reins to slow him down.

It did the opposite.

My grapple on his hair seemed to urge him on, and he ramped up the pace, breaking from his place on my neck. I did not think he could, but the heights I had reached meant nothing as he continued to build me more and more, the heat burning me from the inside out. His panting breaths now mingled with my own, his head pressed into the pillow.

“Lamb, please, ” I whispered, begging for him to stop or release me, I didn’t know.

“Fuck,” Lamb growled, and his thrusts slowed, but each became harder and harder, and the small poke of his dick pushing against my entrance now had it pressing through the cotton and an inch into my entrance.

One free hand slipped down beneath my elastic waist, and his warm, large, firm hands began to rub furiously around the small bud of nerves that had my toes curling, my hips rocking into each hard thrust until I could feel myself being brought to that edge, that electric tingling over my skin, the heat bursting from my core and my mind shattering with a loud, piercing cry.

Lamb rocked against me as my orgasm burst from my centre, and a few painfully delightful thrusts later, warmth pooled against my entrance, both our cotton crotches now soaked with each other’s cum.

Lamb collapsed against me, his weight shifting to one side, cautious not to crush me as my mind revelled in the buzz. More so than alcohol, or medicine, the sheer force of that orgasm had my brain melting into a delicious, delirious goo.

Before I had the power or energy to analyse what had happened, what Lamb had made me do and what I had apparently done to him, the call of the dark was stronger. It seeped from the room and into my mind, and any thought I was about to have, became silent. For the first time in a long time, I fell asleep, feeling something I had not in a long time.

Safe.