I don’t… I don’t want it.
My fucked up pieces are compelled to give in to the tease of ravished death. It’s a decision against my will, something I’m okay with giving over to Razor.
I’d rather him be the one to take my life.
Right as the numbness reaches my arms, my hands slipping down his sides, the pressure on my throat is lifting.
My lungs automatically expand with a wheezy inhale, sending in a dose of dread that tries ruining the victory my bubbled brain is convincing my body to feel.
The pandemic buzz is celestial, though. An addictive high I’m already grieving.
His thrusts are slow now, pumping in tandem with the affectionate kisses he’s tingling my cheek with. “Say it, little bunny. Let me hear you say you want me.”
Coasting in weightless euphoria, I lazily find his pretty face with my hands, laggardly blinking through the blur to look at him. “I don’t want you, Razor,” I rasp out, getting sliced with the immediate rejection in his eyes.
I feel so bubbly, the reaction that would typically make me sick to my stomach is fluttering a trilling glee.
He stares at the loose smile cracking on my face, slowly pulling out of me.
Despite not wanting to separate from him, I laugh, giving his stiff lips a kiss. “I need you. I think I always have.”
“Bunny,” he huffs, quickly adjusting himself into his sweatpants.
Dropping his weight back in between my legs, he fervently runs a palm along my sock, taking his time admiring me beneath him.
His barbed wire chain is hanging, the faint glisten of silver coercing my hand to grab it and pull him back to my mouth.
I don’t want to lose this; the warm hum he vibrates me with. I want to stay messy and safe in his cage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
RAZOR
With a thump in my throat, my fingers trail the mist along Bunny’s arm, her warm, olive tan absorbing the filter of moonlight.
“My body was designed to accept you inside it, Raze.”
“I need you. I think I always have.”
“My body was designed to accept you inside it, Raze.”
“I need you. I think I always have.”
“My body was designed to accept you inside it, Raze.”
“I need you. I think I always have.”
She won’t take this away from me. She wouldn’t. She needs me just as much as I need her.
God-fucking-damn it. Ora’s bed is searing through my back. Which is fucked. Because I finally have my girl molded flush againstme, the smell of her sweet pheromones emanating in warm gusts from the backside of her neck, and I’m in her bed, keeping her safe and sound while she sleeps.
My brain’s not getting the memo that I should be rewinding on how perfect it was sliding inside her. Or how fucking pretty she looked taking me, the way she opened herself even more and hiked her leg higher like she wanted me in her lungs. Or how she fully committed her life to my hands and was just gonna let me take that shit while making her come.
No. I have a goddamn parasite. And she’s a couple doors down.
Her not wanting to sleep in her own bed because I’m in here is suspicious. I don’t like it. And I don’t like that she’s the only one that comes to mind when I think of someone trying to pull some Freddy Krueger shit on Bunny. You know, the alarm clock?
Why would Ora give a fuck about Bunny getting up at certain time?
