Page 39 of Splintered Desire

I need to message him back and tell him I accidentally messaged the wrong number, or better yet, ignore him and let this die away.

But I can’t.

Fuck I don’t want to…

I’m so pathetic and lonely that even just him knowing it was me is enough to make my chest feel tight.

I’m not supposed to let people in. I know what happens when I do, but Reed’s not like everyone else.

He’s been around forever and has always looked out for me. So long as I don’t get too close, he won’t leave.

Texting him isn’t too much, right? We’re still practically strangers, nothing more than just a few digital conversations.

Sorry, bloody fingers made me misclick…

My fingers fly across the screen, and I don’t even think about what I’ve just said until I’ve already pressed send.

“Shit,” I breathe.

And this is why I don’t have friends.

I smack a hand to my forehead and cringe harder when the sticky blood makes a wet sound against my skin.

Shower first, then I can sort this new shit show out.

Maybe he’ll think I’m joking, or better yet, not want to get involved with my shit and leave me on read.

I can’t be that lucky, though, and his next text comes back less than five seconds later.

Blood? Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?

Crap.

I give him the short of it. I cut my hand on the knife he gave me after dealing with a less-than-savory visitor in my room without too many details. He doesn’t need to know my visitor lives in the house with me, is my stepbrother, or his boss.

It’s all good now, though. Cleaned it up, and now I’m going to pop in the shower.

I chew my lip and try to think of a reason I had to message him. I’d wanted comfort, and he’s done that even without knowing it, but I don’t want him to feel like he needs to come and save me.

I can handle these assholes, and I don’t want to put him in danger.

I just wanted to say thanks for the knife, saved my ass.

My cheeks heat, and I regret it the second I hit send, but it’s done now. Putting my phone on the counter, I strip off my underwear and hop in the shower, ready for the water to have run cold, only to find it’s still not only warm but hot.

Ugh, rich people shit.

I’m just about to stick my cock in that pretty little mouth and come like a teenager when, once again, Isaac ruins it.

“Must you constantly be naked and fucking something?”

I growl and flip him the bird with the hand that isn’t wrapped around my cock but don’t open my eyes.

Whatever he wants can wait until after I’ve pumped Foxy’s mouth full of cum.

“Satyriasis.”

I have no idea what that means, but I ignore him. If he wants to stand around and watch like a fucking weirdo, I couldn’t care less.