Page 50 of A Tragic Melody

Tears drip down her face, but I have no idea what to say in this situation.

I’m not sure what happened, actually. I thought it was going well. She got off, seemed to enjoy it, too, but something switched.

Part of me wants to thank her. I’m certain if I put my cock in her, I’d be a dead man by morning. Another part of me feels awful, like I pushed her into doing something she didn’t want to.

Either way, it feels like I just lost the battle. Tuesday is once again ahead in our little game. Honestly, at this point, I just wish she would finish the fucking job. I’m ready for this war to end.

CHAPTER TWENTY

I curl myself into a ball and cry once I’m in my bunk. I sob until there are no more tears left in me, then I just lay there, looking at the top of my bunk and try not to throw up.

I feel disgusting. Letting Hendricks fuck me, then allowing Wyatt to touch me feels wrong. I’ve done a lot of bad stuff in my life, but I’ve never felt this bad about any of it before.

Wyatt talked a big game, and seems fully capable of backing it up. He made me come. I can’t remember the last time a guy got me off. But Wyatt knew what he was doing. Clearly, he knows how to use his fingers for more than playing guitar.

His touch was good—really good. If I close my eyes, I can almost still feel his hands on me. Hear his voice making promises I want him to keep.

His little comment about not being able to picture another woman when he was looking at me made my stomach flutter. It was probably just a line, but for a moment, I found myself hoping it was true. It would be nice if he saw something in me worth his time. Something more than this horrible version of myself I’ve become.

Sadly, I’m nothing but a cheap whore. I spent my whole life letting people value me only for my looks. Use me and my body for how it benefits them. They signed me because I looked sexy, and kept me because I put out.

Even Wyatt called me a whore. But it felt good in the moment, not like an insult, but a term of endearment. An honor. It made my head spin with emotions I’ve long since given up on feeling. But then the orgasm ended, and it made me feel horrible. Mainly because he is right.

And I can’t afford to let him make me feel good. Not when I plan on destroying him.

That’s still the plan. Just because he made me come doesn’t change the fact he is the enemy. Whatever that was, wherever all those emotions came from, they were just for a moment. They have to be. I’ll never be able to let it be more, anyways. My soul belongs to Veritas and Hendricks, so long as they’ll have me.

When I crawl out of bed the next morning, Wyatt is already up in the open area. I have no idea where my bra and panties ended up, but I don’t bother looking for them. I plop down on the floor in front of the couch with my container of coke.

I’m desperate to put last night behind me and feel good in other ways. In the ways I’m used to.

I flip open my compact mirror and lay it on the small ottoman in front of the couch. Pouring a decent sized pile on the mirror, I use a razor blade to make two lines.

“Breakfast of champions,” Wyatt says.

“You bet. Want some?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t actually offering, but….”

“I wasn’t asking, just being honest.”

“If you want to fall off the wagon, Wyatt, I’ll gladly help.” I pull out my small straw, sliding the tip into one nostril. I bend my head forward, inhaling one line. “I’m good at sharing.”

“Are you? Could’ve fooled me.”

I do the second line, letting the drugs ease my thoughts for a moment. Pinching my nose and inhaling the last little bit, I let my head lean back against the couch.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” He laughs. “That means nothing.”

“Are you talking about last night?”

“No. I’m not going to make you feel bad about that. It’s your body, and I fully respect that. More than everyone else you let in your life, apparently.”

“So what did you mean then?” I glance at him.