You flinched. That wasn’t what you had in mind, was it? Why did you insist on tempting monsters? To my great displeasure, Tyrell was already unbuttoning his pants.
“Get off his lap and tell him to leave,” I commanded.
“No,” you said, determined to see this through. “I want you here with me.”
“I’m right here,” Tyrell said with confusion, for he could only follow your side of the conversation.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” I warned. “Remember what happened last time?”
Surely the thought of Derek’s severed finger came to your mind. I even knew where you’d hidden it—in your closet, buried in a shoebox full of your mother’s potpourri.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” you bargained.
“I’m not your parlor trick.”
“Iknowthat.”
“Then treat me with the respect I deserve,” I bellowed. You winced. I’d learned a stern tone worked on you. I didn’t want to scare you, but I couldn’t have you manipulating me into manifestation.
“Fine,” you said with a pout that only reminded me of how young you truly were. You climbed gracefully off of Tyrell’s lap and crossed the room, defeated. You puffed on the blunt and blew smoke against the jalousie windowpane. Tyrell sat there in confusion.
“My mom will be home soon,” you said to Tyrell. “You’d better go.”
“I’ll be quick,” Tyrell assured you. His pants were still undone as he primed his erection for your attention.
“Not today.” You offered him the blunt instead. It couldn’t have been clearer.
“You can’t play me like that.” Tyrell ignored your peace offering and grabbed your shoulder. You shrugged him off like a petulant child. He came at you again, one hand holding up his pants, and spun you around. A shiver of fear raced through you, giving you that jolt of adrenaline you craved.
“Suck me off,” Tyrell demanded.
“I said no,” you hissed with eyes like broken glass.
“You got yours. I’m not leaving until I get mine.”
“Henri?” you called, seeking guidance.
“What?” Tyrell glanced around the room nervously. “What did you say?”
“Henri?” you said again. “What should I tell him?”
“He’s here?” Tyrell’s face went slack. His normally half-mast eyes were wide as twin moons.
Meanwhile, your shrewd eyes centered on Tyrell like a stalking cat. “Yeah, he’s here. You want me to tell him something for you?”
“Hell no.” Tyrell quickly buttoned up, grabbed the bag of weed he’d brought with him, and stuffed it into his pants. “Fuck this. You’re a crazy son of a bitch, Orlando. Get your weed from someone else and stay the fuck away from me.”
Tyrell jogged the whole way out of your house and down the street without looking back. I was fairly confident he’d not be visiting your bedroom again anytime soon.
“Happy now?” You flounced onto your bed, upset that your grand seduction hadn’t panned out the way you’d intended. Your mother was far too lenient—as absent as she’d always been. You needed discipline and structure in your life. Rules to follow. A schedule to adhere to. Madame Lavoie could only do so much.
“I’m not happy. I don’t like it when you take risks.”
You rolled your eyes and crossed one leg casually over the other. “Tyrell? I can handle him.”
“You shouldn’t play games with people’s emotions,” I warned.
You stiffened at that, then rose from the bed and slowly sauntered toward me, making the simple act of walking overtly sensual.
