CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BUNNY
My cheeks are sore, letting out irrepressible giggles and scampering into my room, shutting the door behind me.
What do you have to be happy about?
The balloon in my chest deflates, my face relaxing into the numbness that’s abating the contentment I walked home with.
I know Razor’s looking through the big hole in my door.
I was gonna… I planned this whole stupid thing of being cheesy and getting him to beg me to come out through his destruction, but I’m avoiding him standing on the other side and kicking my shoes off, absently picking them up and dropping them in the closet.
I have so many things to be happy about. But the monster that lives in my head won’t let me be.
I kissed him. And it was nuclear.
This explosive fallout obliterated all my insecurities. It was just him and I, and he tended to my pervasive emotions without realizing.
“It was just him and I.” Yeah, and Carl floating in the tank and the unsettling presence in the corner. Take the slip for your reality check.
“Bun?” Razor hums through the hole.
Getting halfway to my bed, I turn my back to the lamp, pushing down the ruinous swell stinging my eyes.
He’s resting his forehead on the door, angling his face just enough for his glossy eyes to collect spears of light, the dark mahogany pleading and kicking a flutter through my stomach.
This. This makes me happy. Being wanted.
But I’m coagulating.
“Yes, Razor?” I hum back, my eyes gaining extra weight.
“Will you please come out?”
He’s begging. And he looks so pretty doing it.
It’s manipulative. Then again, it wouldn’t be an encounter with Razor if my nervous system wasn’t confused.
“I just, uh, got really tired.”
“I have a bed.”
“I do too.” I gesture my thumb back to it, giving him a medicated smile.
His brows flatten and he gasps. “Oh, Bunny, you’re so fuckin’ sweet. I would love to.”
My face drops, confusedly looking around the walls. “What?”
Opening my door, he walks in with the cash box still in his hand, sharpening a wolfish smile my way.
“Wait, n-no. That’s not…”
I track him, helplessly watching him make himself at home, his shoes coming off at the edge of my bed and his body collapsing sideways on my mattress, like he’s posing for a scandalous magazine.
“Got a rack I can count this cash on?” He holds the metal box up, twisting it around with the same cutting smile.
He killed someone. Two people, actually. Possibly more. I shouldn’t want to spend time with him. And I shouldn’t be covering a grin or moving onto the bed next to him.
I think, uh… I think maybe our damage is woven. I’m just blind right now.
Sitting upright across from him, my butt close to the edge, I fold my legs up and avoid his amused study of me. “That’s a lot of money.”
“It is,” he agrees, setting the box in the middle of us. “You gonna tell me about Ora now?”
My heart plummets, my eyes blowing wide and turning back to the open door. I snap around to face him, whisking a hand up to brush the stray hair from my lips. “Razor… The door is open.”
His brows stitch. “She’s drunk and playing Candy Land in the kitchen.”
Reading my seriousness for a moment, he’s sighing and lunging up, moving fast across the room and closing the door, then coming right back to his original position.
“Truth. Now. Before I get it out of you another way they’ll definitely hear.”
Nerves constrict my throat, swallowing thickly and shifting my posture.
I’m trying to go back in time to explain properly, but now my evil mind is creating vivid images of his bare, sweaty waist between my legs, his skin rubbing my inner thighs and his cock stretching me, forcing my body to open around his shape.
He’d probably have his hand on my throat… He’d probably be biting and kissing my jaw and neck, maybe running a blade over my hip.
Torridity presses against me, percolating even more sweat in my hot room and sticking my hair to my neck.
“You like that idea.”
He doesn’t ask. He makes a statement, pointing out how flushed I’m getting with a faint grin cracked around his front teeth.
“She told me Xene wants to watch her and I scissor,” I blurt.
Oh, no. You just messed up.
His lasciviousness fades, his eyes darkening with the flat line of his lips.
“Are you mad?” I wipe my clammy palms on my knee-high socks, staring at his stillness.
The same stillness he snuck up on Junior with.
Reaching over the box between us, he gently cages my neck, shifting his malevolent focus to my mouth. “Come here,” he whispers softly, his airy voice controlled with order.
Obeying, I lean over, crawling with my hands and shifting onto my knees. There are bugs in my face, squirming to the beat my heart is pumping at.
His lips tease over mine, his breath encouraging my eyes to close. “So, you thought kissing her would resolve an issue you knew would piss me off?”
Fight-or-flight punctures up through my chest, my eyes opening to him leisurely taking my lips within his.
He squeezes my neck, forcing me closer, my hands fumbling for balance on the mattress dipped below his weight.
I’m not allowed to answer. He’s shoving the cash box out of the way and skating his tongue inside my numb mouth, coercing me on top of him as he rolls to his back.
I’m scared. This is the closest I’ve been to having sex with him and it’s frazzling all my fibers.
I don’t refuse, though. I’m straddling his waist and drifting into the lust he’s kissing me with.
Grabbing my butt with his other hand, his lips move over to my cheek, kissing me hungrily and biting slowly. “You’re so pretty on top of me. You wanna take control? You wanna sink down my cock and ride it however you want?”
I shudder, my head getting forced to the side so he can kiss the sensitive spot beneath my ear, near the curve of my jaw.
“Or do you want me to force you to take it?” He bites me again, trailing his teeth along my jawbone and grinding his hard length into me.
The deprived ache thrumming down my thighs burns hotter, squeezing my pelvis with so much pressure I can’t contain the moan expanding up my throat.
My nails scratch into his shirt, my eyes squeezing closed. “Force me. Please,” I whisper. Huff. Breathe.
It barely comes out.
I used all my courage to kiss him earlier. So, now I feel small and threatened, like prey being too scared to run.
Quickly, he’s flipping our positions and dropping his weight between my legs, not giving me a single moment to react before he’s tearing my shirt over my head and arms.
He tosses the bunched fabric somewhere, sitting up on his knees, crowding me, eating me to the bone with his eyes while tugging his own shirt off. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
All my nerves spiral down my throat, spreading across my chest in the form of pinpricks.
He’s electric, the kind of stature and symmetry that’s elusive. Every muscle is unyielding, begging for my attention. All the way up his arms and down his torso, his strength bends and dips, sculpted with precision all the way down to the V-line getting swallowed by his gray sweatpants.
He tosses his shirt, making no attempt to comb the hair from his eyes. He’s too busy hunting me with intent, roaming his calloused hands up my parted thighs. “Pull my cock out, Bunny.”
My anxious heart ticks faster, influencing an uncomfortable heat that beads sweat on my nose. “What if I don’t want to?”
“I wasn’t asking.”
His stern control tilts my vision, drugging me with the need to please him.
I don’t talk. My tongue is swollen, and my hands are hooking into his cotton waistband, my fingers sliding down his warm skin.
“That’s my good girl. Let’s see how far I’ll reach inside you.”
Reach inside me.
Dizzy, on the verge of spacing out from how fast I’m breathing, I tug his pants down and immediately break away from his face—looking at the thick length springing free above my pelvis.
I don’t mean to gasp. It escapes, the shock of what he’s been hiding in his pants widening my eyes.
“Scared?” he asks quietly, coasting his palms up my thighs, toward my hips.
Knowing where he’s going, I nod, rapidly blinking the burn from my dry eyes to take in the slight curve of his girth.
A tear drips free, feeling significantly less important than the glistening milk on his pink tip, or the way he’s languidly slipping my shorts down my legs.
Adrenaline and anxiety rattle me. They shake my body against my will. I tense up and awkwardly straighten my legs for him to pull my shorts all the way off, but now that I’m exceptionally quiet, I feel even more awkward.
“What if I don’t like it?” My voice trembles, flicking up to his warm eyes holding space for my actual emotions, not just the way we play to triumph trauma.
Setting my shorts down on the disheveled comforter, he holds my eye contact and runs a gentle hand up my stomach. “Is there a reason why you wouldn’t?”
I shrug tensely, mumbling, “I don’t know.”
“Hm….” He angles his head, tucking himself between my legs.
The weight of his dick sliding up my bare skin paralyzes me, but it also drips a disgusting need through my spine, like an epidural of ecstasy.
He rubs my leg, curving his other hand around my ribs, marveling at the way the tip of his dick stops right past the top of my navel. “You’re not a virgin, are you, little bunny?”
Loaded question. Don’t answer.
“Why would I know that, Razor? Are you a virgin?”
His eyes narrow with an evil grin. “You know I’d kill him, right? Unless I already did.”
“What?”
“Huh?” He cocks his head the other way, creeping up my body, his hands growing possessive on my waist and thigh.
“Unless I already did.”
“He’s not a symptom. He’s an entire disease you’re foolishly catching.”
“Try and remember it for me… You did used to yell it.”
No. I’m paranoid. That-that’s not possible.
Choking down the humming vapor of unanswered questions, my heart does this weird thing where it feels like it expands, dispensing a burst of serotonin.