Page 132 of X's and O's

She panted, her moans turning into little “Oh, oh, ohs,” of pleasure as the impending orgasm bore down on her.

But she wasn’t quite there.

Without any thought from me, my fingers snaked around her throat.

And squeezed.

She came with a shout, her knees buckling.

Even from where my fingers were cupping her pussy, I could feel the strength of her orgasm. It barreled down on her, taking out her muscles, until it was me holding her up.

“Fuck me, X,” she moaned, “Please, God, I need you inside me. I can’t. I need it.”

She trembled violently.

But I still had my fingers wrapped around her throat, and horror had left me completely frozen.

“X?”

I dropped my hands.

Stepped away from her so fast I hit the other side of the shower, the freezing tiles scraping along my back unpleasantly.

She turned around. “X?”

I backed out of the shower fast, the realization of what I’d been about to do so sickening I couldn’t breathe.

My fingers had been around her throat.

I didn’t even bother with a towel. My brain screamed a million different things at me, but the one, overwhelming sensation was I needed to get far away from Violet before I hurt her.

I couldn’t stop for a towel. Couldn’t stop to put my clothes on.

I grabbed my jeans and backed out of the bathroom without looking where I was going. A lamp crashed to the floor, and I ricocheted off a wall, a framed photo coming down and bouncing off the carpet.

I only dragged my jeans on once I was down the hallway and into the living room, my hand reaching for the front doorknob

I twisted it, desperate to get out.

Violet’s sob from the bathroom was the last thing I heard as I ran from the apartment.

Pure and complete loathing for myself flooded in. The last thing I wanted to do was make her cry. Fucking hell, that single sob tore through me like molten lava, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.

But at least she was alive. She was still breathing.

I’d fuckingchokedher.

That might have been okay for some men, with partners who’d consented to that sort of thing. Okay for men who could control themselves.

But never for me.

I stumbled out across the lawn to where I’d left my van, surprised to see Whip and Levi still sitting inside it.

Both of them got out when they saw me coming.

“What the fuck?” Levi asked. “Why are you all wet? Where’s Violet?”

But Whip knew me better. He’d been privy to all the fucked-up things I’d said in the confidence of our group. I might have pissed him off with my constant talking and smart-assery.