She turns around from her vanity to face me sitting on her stool, the warm bulbs haloing her sultry curls, her exhaustion shadowed with a thick wave falling over her eye. “I know. You keep saying that.”
How did I go from suffocating myself in between her thighs to walking on a tight rope for the right things to say?
I sigh heavily, straightening my neck for the brush she’s bringing to my face.
“Why aren’t you taking your medicine?” she asks quietly, gently raking hair from my forehead.
“I don’t need it.” Closing my eyes, I lose the view of her doing my alternate face for the first time.
I shoved my pride to the side and apologized to Xene in front of everyone earlier. Then Gwen proceeded to say,“I ain’t doin’ your makeup no more. You’re nuts,”with her cornbread attitude.
Uh, yeah. No shit.
So, I begged Bunny from my knees. Here we are. I got what I’ve been wanting.
“Really?” she presses.
But she’s so soft about it, like she genuinely cares about my well-being.
I’m internally decaying. And regretting my choice of continuing with regular programmed performance. I had been shifting in her dead silence while sitting on my hands for an hour.
I’ve looked down her top a few times. But quickly realized it was making my hands crawl out from their cage to discreetly rub over the pressure building up.
My hands find her hips, mapping up the violin curve for a dose of what I clinically need.
You can laugh and roll your eyes as much as you want. But Bunny is superior to the mild sedatives Carl expected me to live on. I can actually feel my heart beating; I can feel her femininity drag along my desperate palms and hear the air filling her lungs as she concentrates closely.
I’m not a zombie. Or a performance monkey.
She tames me with chains I’d crawl to her on.
She’s my asylum.
“Razor, you’re gonna mess me up,” she laughs hushedly, framing her hand around my head to hold the brush steady.
Fuck me up, her candied breath is directly in my face. I’m so needy, I inhale through my mouth and there she is. The taste of her tongue is dancing over mine, the high controlling my hands to slide up her denim overalls.
I get a little too courageous and dip into the openings on her sides, feeling up the warmth of her soft skin and counting the ribs I’m able to memorize the shape of—until she’s cutting me off and stepping away.
Six.
I know what six of her vital bones feel like in my hands. And now, I have a twitching impulse to collect the rest.
“Okay. All done,” she exhales, sending me a sweet smile through the mirror.
I don’t wanna take my eyes off her. She could paint me up like a bubblegum unicorn and I wouldn’t give a shit. Because she was touching me. Her attention anesthetizes me.
“You’re perfect,” I utter, still hanging on to the amber bulbs warming her eyes.
She flushes extra pink beneath her sunburn, biting her lip to try and contain a smile. “You’re delusional.”
“Really?” my brow lifts, my head angling. “If that’s the case, then you better come kiss me before I slip into a psychosis. I’d hate to be too far gone.”
I crook two fingers at her, growing entertained with the way she’s spinning around with dilated eyes.
“No,” she laughs.
“No?”
