“I might be in the room next to you,” she rasps.
Paranoia skips like hot stones down my spine, my eyes opening all the way and our lips smacking apart. “Why’s that?”
What the fuck? She fucking—did she fi-
A stutter bugs my heart, intently watching her drowsy eyes crack back open with a plump, blood kissed smile.
“You make me want bad things.”
Oh, thank God.
“Tell me about these bad things,” I whisper back, anticipation thickening my voice.
She lightly bites her bottom lip, dragging her teeth over the swollenness with a foxy grin, before kissing me again. Slowly. No tongue. Just our mouths connecting, our tainted souls slipping beneath each other’s bones.
Tying her fingers in my hair, she smiles, using this obscure confidence to rotate my head and deliver her lips to my ear. “I want the truth, Razor. I know that’s not your hard dick on the outside of your thigh. What’s in your pocket?”
Under her influence, not a single thought flares in my mind. I’m untangling my hand from her hair and pulling my shitty phone out.
It’s not something I intentionally hid from her. But as I fumble through prompts to get to the camera, her blanching irately in my peripheral sinks guilt into my gut.
“It’s not what you think,” I throw back at her, getting the grainy, diluted pixels of current time pulled up on the cracked screen.
“Really?” she hums dryly, not tearing her scornful eyes from me.
Explaining without saying anything, I hit record, angling the laggy back camera to my star and crashing my mouth to hers.
She mewls, spreading a hand around my throat, tensely dragging the pads of her fingers down to my chain.
It spurs me on, callously rocking my cock into her and plunging my tongue deep inside her mouth.
I couldn’t tell you how long I film us roughly making out. Long enough for the battery in my phone to burn like hell against my fingers.
My dick is twitching and throbbing, demanding for relief, begging to be touched. Truth be told, I think I could get off from this friction alone. But she’s tearing away from me and inhaling deeply, her hot, minty breath blowing across my tingling lips.
“Wait, hold on, no more,” she rushes.
I instantly stop, letting my phone clatter to the desk so I can brace my hands around her.
She tips her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat and fucking me up with a double caress down my chest.
No more. She said no more.
Fuck, I feel so hungry. My vision’s locked on the bobs of her swallows, my hands like granite near her waist and head.
My lips are liable to explode from my face. Yet I want more. Even after we’re numb and dizzy, I still wanna kiss her, leave a track of bites all around her neck.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, flicking up to her looking at me.
“Yeah, I just, uh…” Rotating her hands between us, she rolls her eyes closed, applying pressure to her forehead with three fingers. “How long has Carl been in the tank?”
“A week,” I answer. No hesitation.
She echoes me mutely with a huff, the disbelief wedging her heavy eyes open. “And the formaldehyde? Where’d you get it?”
“The odds and oddities tent on the south end.”
Her brows tug tight. “South end? What south end?”
