People are booing in annoyance, and as I force him out, the guards close in so that he can’t turn around and run back in when I let him go.
If I let him go.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re acting like a goddamn toddler!” I drag Carmine to the back of the room, near the left corner, and then slam him against the concrete wall in front of us.
Carmine gasps, sucking in air in shock, and then grabs me by the collar of my jacket.
“Why did you do that?” he asks me. His eyes are shining, wet, reddened. Likely from crying his eyes out earlier. I find myself wanting to ask what happened. Something did. I’d seen the pile of glass in the library on the camera when I’d checked. I’d watched him get dressed and leave the house, but I’d missed everything before that.
“You don’t need to be fighting anyone,” I tell him. “You’re supposed to call me, remember?”
“Pft. For what? So you can stop me from doing what I actually fucking want to do?” he asks me.
“Yes, exactly that, you stubborn asshole.” I grab him by the jaw.
He grabs me by the wrist but doesn’t pull my hand away.
I lean in closer to him. “The guys who fight in there, they’re fighting for life or death. They’ve got nothin’ to lose,” I remind him.
He looks at me, glassy eyed, and he doesn’t need to even say the words for me to know. I can see them in his eyes. In the way his breath hitches. In the way his fingers tighten even more around my wrist.
“Don’t even,” I mumble just loud enough.
I pull my hand from his face but lean in slightly. He smells…disgusting. Like sweaty liquor and concrete dust. Yet…every inch of me wants to move in closer. Taste the alcohol on his breath with my tongue. Inhale his moans and make him feel something besides the guilt and anger.
Let him use me for whatever he needs to, while I use him…
My cock twitches and I lift a hand, brushing it against his lip.
He meets my eyes, confusion in his that starts to warm with desire.
“As if you could even make it in there,” I tease him as my thumb slides down his chin. I feel several pairs of eyes on us, but I don’t know whose, and I almost don’t care.
“Shut up.” Carmine exhales quickly but doesn’t attempt to move away from me or shove me away.
“Make me. You wanted to fight, right?” I ask him. “You think it’ll make you feel better. Fight me then.” I lean in closer. “Make me shut up, Carmy.”
I swear Carmine’s face gets two shades darker and four shades pinker.
“Asshole,” he spits. Droplets of his saliva speckle my face.
“Mhm. That’s right, take it out on me,” I hum at him with a smirk.
Carmine groans and finally shoves me away. I don’t stop him. I do, however, glance down at his crotch and see the tenting in his jeans. It makes the blood pump harder throughout my own body, all traveling down to my dick.
I chuckle. “Feel any better?” I ask him.
He’s glaring at me, but before he can reply, I feel a light touch on my shoulder. I look to the side and see Rosalie there.
“Having fun?” she asks me. Her lipstick is slightly smudged.
“Not as much as you apparently,” I ask her. “I didn’t know you and the boy had an open arrangement.” I’m teasing mostly, because I don’t really care what my sister does.
She rolls her eyes. “I smeared it with my hand,” she insists. “Besides, you’re the one getting close and personal with…” She looks over at him.
Carmine brushes his sleeves off and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Who’s this?” he asks.
I laugh. “You don’t know?” I smile. “That’s lucky.”
