Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,77

found a rhythm that made every part of my body come alive. He moved his hips in a circle. Sweat dripped from his forehead and fell onto my chest. The sheets drifted down the bed and fell to the floor. The bed creaked loudly, yet we continued to move.

Without warning, Sinclair moved my legs around his waist. The action made him sink even farther into me. I felt myself stretching, slowly but surely making room, and soon all I could feel was him.

For a second, Sinclair paused. He was panting just as much as me. His hands covered my breasts and squeezed hard enough to make my body arch.

“I swear your body was made for me.” Those intense green eyes were focused on my face and nothing else. I didn’t look away even though I wanted to.

“Ask me to stop,” he demanded. His lips brushed against my ear.

Hissing in a sharp breath, I raked my hands through his hair.

“Go ahead, Victoria. Ask me to stop.”

“I can’t.”

A corner of his mouth curved up. “Exactly.” He rocked into me. His forehead touched mine. “What we have is uncontrollable.”

Sinclair smiled, his lips damp. He glided out of me slowly, with just the tip resting inside before sliding back into me. Torture. Agony. Perfection.

From this vantage point, I could see only his lashes against his cheeks, since his eyes were closed. His hair looked coal black even with the moonlight shining down on it. And that smooth skin of his was dusky, making the definition of his sinewed muscles even more apparent. I could see the tendons in his arms straining. He had a potency about him that most men wish they could have.

He’s mine. All mine, I thought to myself.

I moaned so loudly, he covered my mouth. “You know what those noises do to me?”

I opened my eyes long enough to look up at him. I saw him staring at me, his eyes blazing.

“Makes me want to fuck a little harder, go even deeper, so you scream my name so loudly everyone will hear.”

My hands, wrapped around his neck, were suddenly ripped away. He grabbed them and held them against the headboard, swallowing my wrists with his large hands. He was buried in me so deep I could hardly breathe.

All my control broke.

My fingers stretched into the air as I gasped for breath.

My muscles locked, my body bucked. I felt myself come and it was complete bliss. Unlike anything I’d ever felt before.

My eyes wanted to close, but they never wavered from Sinclair’s. I felt the slightest tremor of panic because the emotions running through me were almost too much.

This was soul sex. Where it’s less about the act and more about the feelings rushing through you. Every breath you take becomes amplified.

Our eyes remained locked as I cried out, his name spilling from my lips.

As Sinclair collapsed on top of me, I realized that my heart had been made up about him long before I knew it.

I would die for him. Kill for him.

I loved him more than life.

I couldn’t let him go. I’d found a man who could undress me with just one look. He spoke and I was undone.

His actions unraveled me.

November 2015

It’s been two days since my outburst.

Everyone, including the other patients, has given me a wide berth, staring at me as if I’m poisonous. You know you’re in bad shape when even your fellow patients are scared of you.

During breakfast and lunch, I keep to myself, very much aware that every move I make is being monitored by nurses. I can feel Alice’s cold eyes on my back, burning two holes through my clothes. During group therapy I sit still, my arms encircling Evelyn. She sits in my lap totally silent. She seems to pick up on my change in personality like a bloodhound.

Now it’s art therapy time. Each table in the dayroom has been transformed into an art station. Blunt-tipped scissors, crayons, markers, glue, colored pencils are scattered on each table. A lot of the patients immerse themselves in their art. I’ve never been one to get lost in coloring and creating. But I make an effort today. I end up making a rainbow that looks like it was crafted by someone on an acid trip.

There’s a girl at a table across from me who swipes a stapler from a fellow patient. She steals one of the staples and tries to inscribe words on her skin. Immediately the nurses surround her, extracting the staple from her hand.