Page 228 of Once Upon a Fable

I paused, searching her face for any sign that, beneath her exhausted fury, she was as wet as I was hard. The moment stretched, then ended. I nodded with disappointment, slowly growing black inside.

How long would I let her deny me? How soon would I snap and take her anyway? How would I cope knowing she’d hate me even more when I finally did? Did she think living with me came for free? She was only alive because I found her irresistibly attractive, conveniently arriving at a time when my body was making my life a living hell.

She’d been the pawn in which to bypass all the dirty shit inside my head. She could touch me; I could not. She could make me climax; I would never give myself that pleasure.

That was all I wanted from her, regardless of all the messy new thoughts and strangeness inside me. The moment my heart got in the way of my orgasms, then we had a whole other disaster to deal with.

“Undress,” I barked.

She bared her teeth. “No.”

“Fine.” I was in too much pain for another argument. Heading straight to the river, I waded in and exhaled heavily. God, it’d been too long since my last swim. The water never failed to calm me, clean me, and give me a sense of clarity from the tar inside my mind.

“Hey, wait!” She scrambled along the shore, hopping toward the edge as I waded deeper, the chain pulling her with me.

“You’re the one who wanted to stay fully dressed.” I ducked under, letting the world go quiet as water lapped around me. It blocked the buzzing in my ears, and it ran through my dirty hair. It fondled my cock, mimicking Gemma’s wetness without the heat.

A splash sounded beside me, the ripples of displacement rocking me beneath the surface. I kicked off the bottom and popped back up, blinking away droplets as my gaze latched onto a drowned girl.

A hazel-eyed, golden-haired, entirely vexing and insanely beautiful girl.

“You bastard.” She splashed and shoved hair from her face, her beigey shirt billowing around her. “You could’ve said something.”

“I told you to undress.”

“I thoughtyou wanted—”

“I want to fix the hydro generator.” I arched my chin at the large manmade structure in the middle of the rapids. A concrete box that’d been built by whoever Storymaker had enlisted to create Fables. “It ferries the current through smaller channels, pouring over a turbine that constantly turns, generating friction which causes electricity.”

She glowered. “God, you annoy me. All of you. Every single piece of you drives me up the wall. Just so we’re clear.” She huffed, her fingers flying to the delicate buttons of her shirt. She undid one, then two, then three.

My mouth suddenly went very, very dry.

I couldn’t look away, not even if an asteroid chose that moment to smash us into dust. I would be happy dust. Dust with a hard-on for the stunning, infuriating girl currently tugging off her soaking wet shirt, leaving her in a tight teal sports bra.

Her eyes glowed with green and shadow as she threw the wet shirt toward the shore, deliberately slapping it onto my dry clothes.

I narrowed my eyes. “Witch.”

“You deserved it.” With a quick inhale, she ducked beneath the surface. Her hair continued to float on the surface as her curves beneath the waterline twisted and contorted, yanking off soaking boots and pulling her skirt over her head.

I shuddered as a wave of debilitating lust shot down my legs.

My hand strayed to my thigh. My cock pulsed for touch. It would be so, so easy to come. A single stroke. One delicious pump.

“Stuart!” Ms. Blain yelled. “Get in here.”

The door opened, depositing Storymaker directly into my current nightmare. I was bound and cuffed to a wooden cross. Ankles spread, arms wide, my neck chained in place so I couldn’t move. I was merely a thing to be ridden. To be taken against my wishes. To be molested however Ms. Blain decided.

This was her favorite game. To tie me up and torment me for hours. The awful thing was, she wasn’t even supposed to be my guest. I’d begged to be her plaything the night Zanik couldn’t stop vomiting in fear when he saw her name on the registration book. He was normally stoic and quiet. The one who helped me keep the others calm. But seeing him like that? Watching him flinch each time the door opened and Storymaker summoned a new Fable slave to serve, broke my damn heart.

So, I’d gone to her on my own. I’d knocked on her door. I’d strode past her when she opened, and I let her use me in every way she wanted.

I had no one else to blame for the blood running down my chest or the fact that I’d pissed myself when she’d shoved a dildo up my ass after ten hours of keeping me bound.

My bladder had given up. And with the release of pressure from needing to piss, my cock had turned soft.

In punishment, she’d shoved the phallus so deep inside me, I was sure I’d rip in two. If she was trying to get me back in the mood, bleeding out of my ass ensured I’d never get hard again.