Haunting-Adeline

“My two favorite people,” Mark greets loudly, a lit cigar poised between
his fingers and a glass of amber liquid in the crystal cup dangling in his
other hand.
He looks drunk. His ruddy face is flushed red, and his eyes have begun to
glaze over a bit.
“Please, sit,” he directs, poin ng to the plush leather couch beside his
desk.
Zade and I take a seat, and the two men immediately engage in a
conversa on about the party. I add my two cents in when required, no ng
how beau ful the chandeliers are and the fascina ng ar facts decora ng
his house.
He beams at the compliment, a smile stretching across his face.
“All thanks to my wife, of course. She does enjoy spending my money,
and if decora ng this house is what keeps her happy, then I can live with
that,” he jests. His tone is joyful, but the words are condescending and
meant to be an a ack.
“I’m sure you know how much the ladies love our money, huh, Zack?”
And there’s the cherry on top of his sundae of misogyny. I bet his sundae
taste like bruised skin and a bleeding heart.
Zade smiles, the act nearly primal and ripe with danger. “Small price to
pay when they give us something so priceless every day. And if you ask me,
I’d tell you I’m not worthy of it, but I’m a selfish bastard and will accept it
anyways,” he answers cryp cally. I don’t know how I know, but I know
exactly what he’s speaking of.
Love.
Love is priceless. As Mark’s nefarious dealings have proven, pussy can be
bought and is plen ful, whether they’re forcing it or ge ng consent. And
despite all the ways Zade has forced me to my knees for him, the only thing
he’s ever really wanted from me is to return his addic on. Because that’s
the one thing he can’t take or force.
He can force my body to succumb to him, but he can’t force my heart to
beat for him.
And ironically, it seems that’s the one thing he wants most from me.
Mark takes it the direc on most men would. He laughs and offers me a
wink, as if he knows without a doubt how priceless my pussy might be. But