CHAPTER SIX
RAZOR
I’ve been lying. Okay, well, I guess not necessarily lying. But keeping secrets, yes. I’ve been secretive toward Bunny.
You probably know that, though. She’s probably already told you what she’s sniffing out.
Did she? What did she say?
Fuck, I’m losing my mind.
Fucking anyway, this was easy to do when I kept my healthy distance, admired from afar and just kept my eye on her. But now that I’m forcing proximity and crossing boundaries that shouldn’t even fucking be there, I’m closing doors to get out of hurting her with the truth.
She’s smart. She’s catching on.
The slicing side-eyes and claustrophobic silence she’s been giving me the whole drive into town speaks louder than anything either of us could say.
I saw this going differently.
I figured she’d be all sweet on me, sit in the middle and infect me with a raw smile of getting some freedom, maybe touch on me enough to pull over for a quick taste, or fawn over the cacti having blooms in the city.
No. This little shitty adventure out of bounds has only made her more distant than she was when we initially woke up in the trailer.
She’s not widely looking in awe as I throw the truck in park in front of the library. She’s jadedly staring at the dash with a glazed-over look, as if this is mundane for her.
It’s not her fault. But it leaks fluid through my chest every time I witness her despondent state. And it burns like hell when she snaps a fake smile on. Because I know what she hides underneath the mask.
“Ready to rock?” I ask her, slipping the keys from the ignition.
“Did you cut my alarm clock?” Settling her thumb on the release for the seatbelt, she waits tensely, like my answer will determine whether she gets out on her own or not.
“No,” my brows stitch, realizing she’s not trying to put a smile on for me right now. “What do you mean by cut?”
“The wire. It was cut.”
Chills scatter up my arms, studying her combative state. “Why would I split your wire? I know how important it is for you to get up at 5:30.”
“Okay… Must’ve been a mouse.” She doesn’t look away. Just hollowly unclips her seatbelt and lets it slide over her chest.
“Are you accusing me of a crime, Bunny?”
“I’m not accusing you, Razor,” she rasps, indenting her thigh with shaky fingers. “I’m asking. But I should’ve known better than to ask you anything.”
My veins swell, catering to the dense beat quickening against my sternum. I try to speak, but the barbed wire chain around my neck does me a favor by tightening, making my choice of words go back to the volatility they came from.
If I would’ve said what was on my tongue, the tears she’s looking away with would spill down her dewy cheeks.
I don’t wanna make her cry unless I’m inside her.
“Bun…”
“Why are we at the library?” She wipes her eyes, attempting to blink away the burn she can’t control.
“I, uh…” I point loosely, turning my palm up and shaking my head to restart my fucking brain. “I just need to print some stuff.”
Throwing my door open, I punch ass around the hood and get her door.
She can’t help her emotions. And I can’t help my addiction.
Just watching her step out, having her this close to me, gives me a micro dose of what I’m fiending for.
Things could be so perfect between us if I could touch her however I wanted, if could cup her face and kiss her before taking a timeless stroll with her hand in mine, grab a coffee and twitch for the foam that rests on her top lip.
The vivid image forms a hungry groan, snatching her little hand up and shutting the door.
She shoots rounded terror up at me, but I am hellbent on making this girl undoubtedly mine, so I tie our fingers and continue on to the stairs with sunshine coming out of my ass.
“I’ll figure out who fucked with you, little bunny.”
Her hand squirms, her attention beginning to wander the bustling street and droning voices. “It’s probably nothing.”
“No, it’s definitely something.” Coming up on the landing, I get the door for her and follow her into the heavy odor of used books and printer ink. “Over here.”
Letting her hand go, I gesture to the computer room set off to the side. My other hand does what the fuck it wants. It lands on the small of her back with a gentleness that I hope teases her, makes her delirious for more, for it to get rougher, more possessive.
Her firm muscle tenses beneath my touch, and she swallows hard, distractedly looking around at the books we pass. “I thought my first time would be revolutionary,” she whispers.
First time? First time what?
Ushering her to a chair, my grip around the back of it to pull it out turns deadly, trying to decide if she meant her first time out since… or the thought that’s burning my blood.
She wouldn’t remember that. Unless she’s fucked someone at the trailer. No. She wouldn’t. She hasn’t.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, widely staring at the psychosis I’m stuck in.
“For what?” My eyes sharpen, the muscles in my jaw ticking with the clench of my teeth.
She crosses her arms over her midriff, rounding her shoulders in with a pout. “For not jumping and skipping.”
Thank fuck.
I exhale, letting the irrational ire drain and relax my arms. “I didn’t expect you to do all that. Sit.”
Watching her do as I say without a huff or snarky remark should skate satisfaction down my spine. But Bunny’s illness matches mine.
We’re sick together.
That’s what I crave.
The push and chase of sadomasochism, the macabre tilt of our own romance.
Being on a time crunch has me leaving her be and taking the seat next to her. I’ve fucked around on these computers before, so I’m not an imbecile. I do in fact know how to open a browser.
Getting the site I need pulled up, Bunny shifts uncomfortably, pulling at her tiny shorts and bucking her hips.
I obviously fucking catch it and watch it, trying to decipher what’s going on all while feeding my eyes with her glowing skin. But I don’t think I was supposed to because she locks eyes with me and gets stiff.
“My butt crack is sweaty,” she mouths, making a very slight whisper.
My eyes close, inhaling the impulse control I need to not say what’s conjuring up animalistic visuals for my horny mind.
“Do you…” I start to bite my tongue, but she’s looking right at me with pools of innocence, even though she’s already shown me the fractures that corrupt her. “Bunny, you cannot say shit like that to me.”
“Yours is probably sweaty too,” she mumbles, giving me a barren shrug.
Thinking about my sweaty ass opposed to tongue fucking hers has the burn of lust dissolving. “It is,” I nod, trilling my lips and scrolling through flyer templates.
“What are you making flyers for?” She leans in, lustrating my senses with a scent so sweet it tingles me from my head to my toes.
I click on the simplest one, having to shake my leg for a distraction from how hot she makes me. “Our next act.”
“Hm?” She tilts her head toward me, flattening her brows with sparkling, curious eyes.
Her mouth. It’s right there. So pouty it looks like she’s pursing her lips, like she’s hoping I’ll dip down and collide us into something sick and fervent.
It’s my turn. You’re mine now, little bunny.
“You’re gonna be in the Globe with me.”
She flits down to my lips, and my chest hardens, an unbridling current zinging up my abdomen and knocking my brain around.
“Doing what?”
“Dancing, like the silk bunny you are.”
“Will I have room?”
“I’m not giving you room, no.”
Her breasts rise high with a deep breath, aiding me with the perfect view of her nipples tightening against the white fabric.
I inch closer, slipping my arm over the back of her chair. “You’ll feel me without me touching you.”
Squeezing her thighs, she glances around, as if the impure thoughts are making her self-conscious. But then she looks back at me and leans over my lap, planting her left hand in the small space between my legs. “What would happen if you did touch me? Would it mess you up?”
If you’re wondering—I’m not doing okay.
Her wrist is nestling my damn balls, and she’s so close in a graceful swath of sunlight, I can make out each strand that concocts the hazel brown of her irises.
“I might wreck again.”
She squints, so intent on drawing back to get distance from me, she doesn’t give me a single swipe of her palm across my thigh. “You believe that?”
“That’s what happened, Bunny.” Funneling acid down my throat, I set my flaming face on the screen and start getting busy on the only reason for coming in here.
“Whatever you say, Razor… You’re in charge.”
It’s like she wants me to fuck her mouth. And I’d wipe her fucking tears as she choked on my load.
I can calm my tongue when it comes to her riling me up. But I cannot control my hand launching out to the side of her chair.
Jerking my arm, the chair legs screech across the floor and she topples into me, letting out a little squeak and scrambling to shoot herself upright.
I smile at her. “Just like havin’ you close.”
She starts finger combing her tousled hair and avoids my eyes, her sun-kissed cheeks flushing pink with every breath that flares her nostrils.
The rest of the time I spend on the flyers and getting them printed—she’s silent. That’s usual. Bunny’s a quiet observer. But what’s not usual is for her to sink a room with suppressed emotions taping her mouth.
The printer is across the room in the corner, clicking and whirring and spitting out the flyers I need to hang around town.
I leave my seat and hustle to collect them. But I sent two hundred copies to the machine and it’s taking its damn time.
I’m patient. I can wait. It’s no big thing. Waiting is fine. Patience is a virtue.
Gripping the edge of the table, the clawing stretch of impatience leans me over the printer, my fingers tapping the rhythm of my displeasure on the underside.
I’m gonna get pissed if I feel gum or a sticky substance.
Thankfully, I don’t. The only thing pissing me off is the wait time for a printer to do it’s one job.
“You’re Bunny from Vore, right?”
I stand corrected.
My jaded eyes snap up to the wall, before shifting over my shoulder to stare down my back at the dude blushing while crowding my girl.
Why is she smiling? And talking to him?
The humming and clicking of the printer stop. Without taking my eyes off the way she’s still smiling up at him and giggling like the sweating idiot has blonde hair she wants to coil her fingers into, I grab the hefty stack of warm paper with one hand and stalk the distance.
“We’re going to be doing something new. You should come check it out.”
“Will I be able to find you suspended in silk?”
“It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“I don’t believe that.”
My teeth clench tight, stopping at Bunny’s side and yanking her up from the chair by her arm.
“Razor!”
“Bunny!” I mock her whine, shooting my vexation to Fuckface McGee. “You’re right to not believe that. She’s a star on my dick.”
Walking away, I grapple at oxygen, coasting my hand down her arm and lacing our fingers.
“Why would you say that?” she whisper-shouts. Although she’s furiously staring at me, she’s accepting my hand and keeping up with my pace out the door.
“Sorry?” Jogging down the steps, realization punches through me and I stop on the sidewalk, shifting to face her head on. “Actually, I’m not. I think I need to piss on you to mask your pheromones from these fucking animals.”
Her jaw falls. “Ew. You’re not peeing on me.”
“Why were you entertaining conversation with him?” The jealous wrath doesn’t let me think it through before it slips. My chest is hot, and my throat is numb. They’re letting everything pass by my morals.
She double blinks, batting her bare, dark lashes. “Aren’t we… Um, aren’t we in town to try and get more people to Vore?”
“Not that guy,” I shake my head, pointing to the library.
“What’s wrong with him?”
An annoyed growl shifts into a huff, dropping my arm and rolling my head back over my shoulders. “He was trying to fuck you, Bunny.”
“And?”
My eyes crack open to glares of sun, straightening my neck and tilting my chin down to her seriousness.
“Don’t be mean,” she mumbles.
My brows furrow. “When have I ever been mean to you?”
“Gaslighting and silencing someone feels pretty mean.”
“Oh, Bunny,” I hum, falling to my knees on the scalding concrete. Hooking my empty hand around her firm thigh, I shamelessly rest the side of my face on her exposed stomach, rubbing into her and slipping my hand up to her shorts.
“Razor…”
“How could I ever do that?” Dropping the stack of papers, my other hand forms to her hip and holds her writhing body in place, and I guess the theatrics get the best of me.
Because I languidly kiss next to her navel without a second thought.
“Razor. People are watching.” She hooks into my hair, peeling my affection off like a fucking tick.
I don’t stop. I can’t. I break through her grip on my hair and press my lips to her delicate skin again, exploring my palms up the structure designed for me and me only.
It’s astronomical, smoothing up and feeling around the curves of bone and muscle, like our stardust is stirring in longing to be rejoined.
Looking up at her through slivers, her massive, panicked eyes and burning cheeks split my mouth from her, my smile raking down to the button of her shorts.
She shakes her head, but I have too much fun pushing her boundaries.
My teeth nip at her denim, biting the thick hem with sadistic need pumping me stiff. Her tenderly combing her fingers through the hair on the back of my head spurs me on, heightens the rush, almost makes me forget that PDA is frowned upon.
Plus, the disgusting shit I want to do to her is not to be seen by anyone. She’s only a slut for me.
Well, she will be.
Ending my show, I grab the stack of flyers and spring to my feet with a hard-on, giving the passerby and stopped pedestrians an awarding smile and bow. “Come see us Monday night at eight!”