Page 108 of A Tragic Melody

She squirms under me, coming down from her orgasm. Her hips jerk, trying to escape my fingers that still toy with her clit.

“Wyatt. Too much,” she moans.

I pry my fingers from her clit, using that hand to hold her hip down.

“Don’t try to escape me,” I whisper. “I’m not done with you.”

“Better hurry. The longer you take, the rougher I get to be,” Hendricks taunts.

I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from responding to him. His voice makes my cock soften, just slightly, but Tuesday’s pussy pulsing around it keeps it from softening completely.

I hate that he gets to watch this. Every time he speaks, that nagging voice in the back of my head creeps up. I tried to drown it out with the drugs, but I’m not sure anything will silence it completely.

Tuesday asked me to fuck her. There was a layer of consent in this, but she didn’t really want it. Not like this.

Flashes of her asking to stop the first night make me feel sick inside. Reminds me that even though she is enjoying this, part of her hates it. I hate it, too.

I’m not going to survive the guilt that follows when this ends. This is the worst thing I’ve ever done. I don’t know how I come back from this. The crime I’m committing is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Still, when her nails dig into my arm, her back arching off the floor as she moans, I can’t help but enjoy the moment a little.

“Oh fuck, Wyatt.” Her body thrashes under me. Her tight little pussy has a stranglehold on my cock. “I’m going to come again. Fuck.” Her eyes roll back and a small scream escapes her parted lips.

When she flattens against the floor, little moans filling the air, I finally pull out.

I was never going to come. I don’t deserve to. That’s part of the reason I took the drugs. I shouldn’t get to come from this. I try not to make it too obvious as I roll the condom off my cock.

“Finally fucking done?” Hendricks groans. “Did you enjoy yourself kid?” He slips his phone in his pocket, and the reminder he recorded it makes me sick to my stomach.

“Does it matter?” I ask, pulling back from Tuesday.

She pants, tears streaming from her closed eyes. She has a big goofy smile on her face, even as she sobs in agony.

At least I made her feel good.

I close her legs, grabbing my clothes. I tug them on as quickly as possible. The room is starting to feel too small. Emotions claw at my chest. I’m mad. I’m sad. I’m a shattered man.

Tuesday just lays there, crying.

“Tues,” I say softly, kneeling beside her again. Her eyes blink open, focusing on me. “I’m so sorry. Okay? I’m so fucking sorry.”

She just nods her head as more tears pour from her eyes.

“Time to go, kid. I have unfinished business with the cunt.” He chuckles.

I could walk away. Leave her here to face her captor. It wouldn’t be the right thing to do, but it would mean we’d both survive the night. I could plot my revenge, plan her escape in a setting where it wouldn’t be so vulnerable.

It would be the easiest thing to do. I could get up, walk out the door, and in an hour we’d be on stage.

But as she sobs so hard she shakes and he smiles a wicked smile, taking slow strides toward us, I realize if I leave her here with him, I’m worse than he is.

She would forgive me. Probably more so than after I do what I’m about to do, but I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. Ever.

I rise to my feet, taking a step back. He strolls by me, standing over her body.

“Time to pay the piper, slut.”

Tuesday parts her legs, a gesture that lets me know she has no fight left in her. It’s a good thing I have enough fight in me for the both of us.