“I promised to fuck him,” I blurted. Nemo ran into a table and hissed, grabbing his shin.
“Now?” He asked. “Shouldn’t we discuss … everything?”
“I'd rather you all run a train on me until time's up.”
“You know that implies you’ll receive,” Orson said.
“You all wish. Anyway—” I popped up from the couch and everything went black. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, tongue fucking shag carpet. “You might have to settle on an unenthusiastic hand job,” I groaned.
“You can’t expect Baz to fuck you in this condition,” Nemo said, looking at me like I was pathetic. Then he gave a prolonged sigh and looked at Orson.
“I’ll fuck you if you need it that bad,” Nemo said.
“Oh, you’d love that,” Orson scoffed.
“I’d hate it, actually.” Nemo glared at him.
“Well, I’d hate it more,” Orson snapped back.
“Can you two stop hate-flirting?” I sighed, dragging myself from the ground. “I’m not really fucking him, okay? I need … ” I looked around at all the anticipatory gazes. “Therapy, okay? I need to talk about my feelings with my therapist.” Nemo and Bree recoiled. Suddenly, they were obsessed with finding food in the kitchen and utterly uninterested in what Orson and I might do in the other room.
Orson slid his gaze to me and raised an eyebrow. Then he curled his fingers in a come-hither.
“Clever,” he whispered as I followed him down a small, dim hall towards a bedroom. After I closed the door behind us, he launched himself at me. His teeth dragged down my neck while his body pressed flush with mine. An unmistakable bulge brushed against my cock through our clothes.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Orson pressed his lips to mine. A hand curled in my hair, and his fingers gently massaged my head. He knew I was weak to gentle touches. I shuddered, my mouth opening.
Orson’s tongue pressed in slowly, savoring the entry inside me. The kiss was needy. There was no room to doubt his craving. What was sexier than being desired? I was filled with the urge to give in to his lust. Reaching up, I gripped his black hair and tugged. When his lips came off mine, he sighed in relief and sagged in my hold—nearly limp. He’d let me do anything. He’dwantme to do anything.
“You don’t actually want to talk about your feelings, right? Or, did you want me to make you admit them while we have sex?” He flashed me a villainous, fanged smile. My eyes slid to his neck, remembering he liked rough sex and being choked. Wouldn’t that be satisfying? He’d degrade me with therapy, and I’d choke him in retaliation as I filled his ass.
I nibbled my lower lip and tried to remember why I’d come back here. Ah, yes, killing everyone.
“Well, I was going to talk about helping me sneak away, but what the hell? We have a little time, right?” I gripped his hip roughly. “Would be impolite to not properly fuck everyone before I leave.” He leaned away from me. Which was the opposite of what I wanted.Come back here.
“You didn't want to have sex?” He asked.
“I hadn’t planned on it, but I’m not opposed.” I tried tugging him closer again, and he thwarted me, pressing against my chest. I sighed in annoyance. “Stop being difficult. My legs are about to give out. And you may need to be the more active participant.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. Reverse cowgirl—cowboy. Whatever,” I said. He pushed away from me. Guess he wasn’t a fan of that position.
“No. What did you mean by help you sneak away? Isthatwhat all those suggestive looks have been since we got here?”
“I thought that was obvious. Did you think I was eye fucking you? We both know I can’t stay near anyone. The other two are refusing to accept it, so I need your help.” I dragged myself to the bed, falling on top with bone-deep exhaustion. I needed food. And more sleep, even though I wanted to be conscious for every hour I had left.
“Where’s the clock? How many hours are left?” I asked. Orson folded up the sleeves of his button-up, revealing a wristwatch. He looked even more like a figure of authority withhis shirt like that. Like a disappointed therapist ready to tell me everything wrong with me and how I wasn’t doing anything right. He sure knew how to flirt.
“Keep the shirt on while I fuck you,” I said. He flashed me an annoyed look. “Keep that expression too.” Orson rolled his eyes as he slid the watch off his wrist.
“Here,” he said, tossing me his watch. I picked it up and examined it. The band was a textured metal that reminded me of dragon scales. The face was black with light brown lettering.
“Let me,” he said, coming over. I looked up at him as he gently slid the watch from my fingers and wrapped it around my wrist.
“You’re giving it to me?” I asked. His gaze met mine as he worked the clasp together.
“Yes.” Before he pulled away, his fingers quickly brushed the inside of my wrist.
