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“So once was enough for you?” Henri paused as Victor opened the door.
Victor huffed. “I’ll never say never, but…I’ve had a better release with a half-hearted blowjob from Kirk.”
“I’m sorry she didn’t live up to your expectations,” Henri said, barren and bereft.
Victor didn’t see how close Henri was to the cliff.
A cliff that tugged him closer, closer…
“Until you’ve instilled some willingness to participate, then I’ve had my fill.” Victor sniffed. “I honestly don’t know what you see in her.”
Henri sagged as he stepped over the threshold.
He didn’t reply.
His teeth sank into his bottom lip as if holding back all those feelings mushroom clouding inside him.
“Never fear,” Victor said, completely oblivious. “We’ll work on that tomorrow.” Patting Henri on the shoulder, he grinned. “Shall we say midday? We’ll meet on the deck, and I’ll show you my favourite place on my island. You can christen your new whip. In fact…” He snapped his fingers as if he’d had a brilliant idea. “I’ll introduce you to my favourite game. I don’t let many guests play as I don’t like my jewels too marked, but…it can be our little secret. It’s called Sapphire Scars, and well…I’m sure you can guess what it entails.”
Henri nodded, his eyes blank. “I’m guessing high tea and sandwiches?”
Victor chuckled. “You and your dry sense of humour.” Stepping back into his bedroom, he waved. “Ta-ra, then. I must admit, I’m enjoying this little group of ours. Sleep well, and we’ll play again tomorrow.”
He shut the door.
The moment the lock snicked into place, Henri staggered back and slammed into the wall.
His arms trembled. Every part of him began to shake. And shake. And shake.
I squirmed to get down.
I needed to be on my feet before he dropped me.
But he sucked in a guttural groan, then swayed toward the stairs.
My heart leapt into my mouth as he tripped and stumbled down them. I didn’t know how he stayed upright as his breath came fast, his face turned white, and he broke into a run the moment we reached our floor.
Down the corridor, over our threshold, and straight into the bathroom.
With exquisite gentleness, he placed me on my feet.
With heavy, gasping inhales, he tripped to the sink and clutched the vanity with white-knuckled hands. His eyes squeezed closed. His fingers dug into porcelain. Dropping his head, he panted, “Shower. Now.”
I didn’t know what to do.
I’d seen Krish suffer a few episodes. Been witness to my poor brother as he reached critical mass and tipped over into despair. But I’d never seen a man shatter into splintering pieces before me.
Swaying toward him, I went to touch—
I stopped.
My own pain wrapped around me.
Memories of Victor.
The stickiness between my legs.
The imprint of his kiss on my shoulder.
