Celia can’t save you.

She doesn’t want to.

She wants you to die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

The sharp edge pierces my skin, and blood trickles down my arm, pooling in the palm of my hand. There’s no pain, only numbness and a cathartic feeling of release.

Cut deeper.

Get the job done.

Down to the bone.

I slice deeper, putting as much pressure into the cut as I can muster. Once I’m satisfied, I release the razors and watch them slowly float to the floor, humming the entire time, hovering over the tile reverently. I step away until my back hits the wall, and I slide down into a bloody heap. I place my mangled hands in my lap and watch with wonder as the blood runs down my wrist, trickles through my fingers, and pools on the white tile beneath me. As my life slowly seeps from my body, I ponder the beauty of the crisp, white tile in contrast with the deep burgundy smears of blood.

As the world around me turns to a muted shade of gray, everything becomes background as the numbness overtakes me. Everything except the one thing I wish would give me peace. The voices. They are as loud and vibrant as ever, almost cheering me forward. The only sound that drowns them out is the faint scream of Celia in the furthest part of my mind, before everything turns to black.

“Breathe You In” by Dierks Bentley

Present Day

I WAKE UP to two tiny paws kneading my stomach, purring loud enough to wake the dead. Okay, maybe not quite that loud, because Celia remains tucked under my arm, snoring softly. I swear her tiny rumblings and grunts are the most hypnotic love song I’ve ever heard.

“Easy on the bladder, Eddie,” I whisper as I scoop up the kitten and curl her into my free arm. I need to take a piss, but I want to enjoy this moment for a little longer. It’s not every day I wake up with a full-fledged fairy in her birthday suit beside me.

I tag my phone off the nightstand and shoot a text to Mrs. Wilson, the woman who owns the antique shop under my apartment. She always lets Mr. Biscuit out and feeds him when I’m out of pocket. That hound has her wrapped around his little paw. She even has a doggie pillow for him in the shop so he can keep her company when I’m out of town. I tell you, when I die, I wanna come back as Biz—that dog lives the life.

I slide out from underneath Celia and shift the covers back in place. When I say back in place, I mean I pull them up to her lower back, leaving the curve of her spine and the side curve of her perfect breast on full display.

She’s stunning. Heart-stopping. Soul-squeezing.

She lets out a lazy sigh and settles back into the mattress. Eddie curls into a tight ball against Celia’s stomach, and I quietly make my way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I quickly shower, anxious to get back to bed, but it definitely would not suck if Celia woke up and joined me. Nothing starts off a morning better than a shower shag.

I crack open the door and find Celia and Eddie exactly as I left them. Too bad for them, the shower woke me up, so I’m frisky and ready to play. I sneak back into the room—or sneak as much as a man my size can. I enter the bed from the bottom, pulling the sheets over my head and crawling up until I hit a pair of pretty little feet. Her toes wiggle as I pepper her with tiny kisses. When my tongue runs up the inside of her calf, she turns to her back and threads her fingers through my damp hair.

“You showered without me. That’s a no-no.” Her body jerks when I place an open mouth kiss to the back of her knee, then she moans sleepily.

I throw the covers back, and my head emerges between her legs, making her laugh. “What are you gonna do about it, Tink? Punish me?”

She grips my ears and pulls me up to meet her eyes. “Why don’t you lay back and find out?”

I don’t need to be told twice. I’m on my back in two seconds flat, ready to receive any punishment she wants to dish out. I have a sneaking suspicion it’ll be worth it. Whips? Chains? Spankings? Bring it on. All of it. Well, maybe not the whips. That’s not really my bag.

She eyes me sleepily with a smirk and a mussed head of hair. She lightly trails a finger down my chest and over my stomach to the rim of my boxer briefs. When she runs one finger in lazy circles over the tip of my cock, my eyes roll back in my head. I wish my underwear would get the fuck out of the way. Why the hell did I put those back on? When I open my eyes, she’s between my legs, on her knees, nipples hard, licking her lips. She bends at the waist and gives my dick a light kiss and smiles sweetly.

I take a deep breath, in an effort to settle my scrambled brain, and chuckle. “Not feeling much like punishment, Tink, but I’ll certainly take it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says as she slides my underwear down my legs. She throws them over her shoulder with an innocent shrug and runs her tongue up my length. She starts at my balls, then trails up my shaft, and places another kiss to my tip. My cock jerks at her touch, craving that hot, sweet mouth. “Maybe not a punishment.” She cups my balls gently in her hand. “But definitely a tease.” She places open mouth kisses up my shaft while rolling my balls around her loose fingers. “Can I tease you?”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, yes.”

Let’s take a moment to honor a woman who doesn’t forget about the balls. There should be a trophy, a medal, a damn island named after these women. Nuts need love, too.

My dick is steel, my balls are drawn up tight, and my brain is mush. Celia lifts my dick off my stomach where it lays heavy and straining. She pulls it closer to her, and I salivate at the thought of driving into her hot mouth. I close my eyes in anticipation, but nothing happens. I crack open a lid to see what’s happening and find Celia examining me.

What the hell? What is she doing?

Then it hits me. “You’re looking for a scar, aren’t you? Really?”

I grab my dick from her hand and hold it to my stomach protectively. I shake my head in disappointment, and she has the good sense to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Right before I was about to … you know, I saw the faint line, and I remembered your stitches. Don’t be mad,” she says, kissing the tip of my cock that’s peeking out of my fisted hand.

“Oh, it’s not me you have to worry about. You’ve insulted the love muscle. There are consequences,” I say, keeping my face guarded and my tone serious.

Her lip twitches, and her eyes dance with mischief. “I’m sure I can fix that.” She winks and unfolds my grip, finger by finger, replacing my hand with hers. “I wouldn’t want to upset the love muscle,” she says with a giggle, and then slides me into her mouth in one smooth motion, sucking as she pulls back up.

All is forgiven. Nothing wipes away hurt feelings like a blowjob. I’m a man, what can I say? The love muscle holds no grudges.

Unintelligible words fall from my lips as she works me with her mouth and fist. Incoherent thoughts flood my mind as her teeth lightly graze the underside of my cock. I hit the back of her throat, and my hands thread through her hair. I have no control of my hips as the jerk up to meet her mouth.

“C’mere, Celia, I need to get inside you. I’m so fuckin’ close,” I rasp, gritting my teeth, trying to hold back the orgasm barreling through my veins.

Her head gives me a tiny shake before driving her hot mouth all the way down my length and letting out a tortuous moan. The vibrations send shockwaves down my shaft, and I shoot off like a rocket. Blinding pleasure pulsates through me as Celia’s mouth works my orgasm.