The Liar: Atlantic Courts by Cole Ax

Author:Cole, Ax
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-21T00:00:00+00:00

T H I R T Y

— A L I A —

motivation: remember to breathe

I’m twisted and wrong because having Quentin drag me around like a caveman makes my panties embarrassingly wet. My hands are free hanging limply at my sides waiting until I have his attention to carry on the deceit that leaves my tongue. “I hate you.” He’s not being rough and his back flexes at the lie. Looking at me over his shoulder, his devilish smile and stormy eyes ask for me to give in while he says three words. “You love me.” There’s no question mark at the end. He’s declaring it as fact.

I like being around him, feeling as though I’m not the weird one because he's more fucked up than me. But that isn’t love. Love is more than a mundane like that I’d get by being around other criminals. I don’t let the words affect me and straighten my shoulders as he comes to a stop beside the bed. “I’d rather crawl up my own asshole.” My voice is filled with faux sweetness, and he moves towards me.

Tilting his head to the side he looks at my ass being a freak. “It is beautiful but, you’ll let me be the first one inside.” He straightens back up and pulls on the belt faster than I can anticipate. My hands whip out finding purchase against his chest and he adds against my lips. “Then you can put shelves up and store whatever you’d like in that pretty little hole.” Curling my hand around his nape, my other goes to the jigsaw piece on his side and I can’t keep the disgust out of my voice. “Do you not understand boundaries or just cross them on purpose?” You do not tell someone to put up fucking shelves when talking about their ass.

There’s a new gentleness in his hand as he traces the curve of my ass and down to my thigh. None of the bruises are bad, I like them when I’m alone. It’s proof we’re alive like he said, and it stops the bad memories only bringing back the good of how they were formed.

Quentin turns into a different person and brushes the tip of his nose against mine, his voice a weighted whisper. “There are no restrictions between you and I.” His delusions are endearing. It convinces me that he’ll stay but he left me in the cemetery, and I don’t know why. There’s no twisted plotting behind his eyes and it gives me confidence to ask. “What can I do to make you leave?”

I stabbed him and he came back. But to come back he must leave. That’s where the problem lies. Stroking his knuckles up my spine, he remains gentle and traces my features with his eyes until his hand is under my chin. There’s no rough jolt to my head as he delicately holds my jaw and fills my vision with our foreheads kissing. “Nothing, even in my death you will have me.

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