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Celia Aaron

The Bad Guy

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  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    Crying about it wouldn’t help. And I was done with tears. I was no one’s captive, no one’s fiancée, no one’s plaything. And I wouldn’t be any of those things unless it was my choice, alone. For the first time in my life, my future was mine, and I didn’t intend to squander it.
  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    I replayed the months since I’d first seen Camille, analyzing each moment, trying to find at what exact moment I’d failed. The frozen air burned my lungs, and I couldn’t feel my face. But any pain my flesh endured was nothing compared to the torment that ripped and raged inside me.
  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    Step by step, I gave up what I wanted more than anything else in my life. Once I was far enough away, the helicopter lifted off the ground, and I lost sight of her. They flew off into the night, the blinking lights dimming until they disappeared in the distance. Something deep inside me fractured, and the fear of never seeing her again brought me to my knees.

    I watched the sky for a long while as the chill wind blew past. It didn’t bother me, all the warmth I’d ever had was long gone. She’d taken my heart, my soul, with her.
  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    I collapsed onto the bed not even bothering to take my clothes off. Snagging her pillow, I inhaled her scent. It quieted my mind. I resolved to stay awake until she came to bed, and then I’d tell her I loved her. Because I did. So much so that the thought of losing her was the one thing that pierced through all my cold calculation and caused a slow bleed deep inside. Without her, I would die.

    I would tell her all of it
  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    “They had me late. A surprise baby to a couple who’d tried a decade prior to have a child. Mom was forty-three when I was born. Dad was almost fifty.” Sadness colored the memory, softening her voice. “I knew, you know? I knew when Mom died that Dad wouldn’t be far behind. They were inseparable, even when she got sick. He never strayed far from her side. It was like he was going through the treatments, too. The chemo was so hard on her, sapping her strength. But her spirit never waned. She always had a smile for me, even when she was too tired to lift her arms to hug me. And my dad was like a plant under her sun. When she burned out, he withered away soon after.”

    My heart cracking

  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    I followed. There was no other option with Camille. Wherever she went, I would go too. We were forever
  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    The smile, the real one, spread across her pouty lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever rendered a man speechless before, especially not a psychopath.”

    I gripped her hips, and she didn’t move away. The slinky material was smooth beneath my fingertips. Either she wore a thong or no panties at all. How was I going to make it through dinner with this vixen? I already wanted to make her scream. By the time we were done with dinner, I’d be begging her for just a lick along her sweet pussy.

    “Fucking hell I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you.” My words came out in an uncharacteristic rush.

    Her blue eyes sparkled. “Thank you.”
  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    Go to sleep. I’m tired of your robot analysis and your stalking and—really, I’m just tired of you.”

    “Sure you are.” I relished the reverberating pain of her teeth marks. “Next time, draw blood.”

    “Psycho.”

    I kissed her hair again and relaxed into my pillow. “Your psycho.”
  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    She hugged her knees to her chest and wouldn’t meet my eyes. I wanted to tell her it was all right that she was angry, wanted to hold her in my arms while she talked to me about nothing and everything. But her withdrawn air told me I’d best keep my distance.
  • Christian's butterfly 🦋цитирует10 месяцев назад
    She didn’t sleep, not until the sun began to peek around the edges of the heavy curtains along my wide windows. So many times I wanted to touch her, pull her into my arms. But she’d fight me, which I didn’t mind. She could also hurt herself, which I did mind
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