A Cold Night

Journals of Lord Malinov

A Cold Night
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

Ian struck the door furiously and stepped outside. A deep breath of the chilly night air stung his flush face. Ian reached back to pull the hood of his grey sweatshirt up over his head. “Shit,” he said fiercely, leaning into the strong wind. Ian’s eyes watered, blurring his vision.

“I don’t believe her,” he said bitterly. “You’re such a liar, Angie!” he yelled out into the deserted darkness. Ian gritted his teeth, fighting the cold. “I don’t know why I bother.”

Ian relaxed slightly as he reached the end of the street, looking up instinctively to check the road before he left the sidewalk for frozen asphalt. The initial shock of cold faded into a dull ache as he dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his long wool coat. “Oh, well,” Ian said aloud, “what did I expect, anyway?”…

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onanistic narcissism

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