CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE #2
Reaching over my shoulder, he callously grabs my face, prying my jaw apart to sweep his tongue deep in my mouth, then he’s eagerly sinking inside the sloppy mess pouring out of me.
The moan breaking off my tongue has our lips smacking apart. But he comes crashing back, silencing me with a harsh kiss and thrusting in hilt deep—giving me all of him.
I love the way he fills me. The seamless acceptance of our bodies extends beyond sex. He’s managed to smooth over fractures and heal cracks I thought I was destined to die with. That I’d die from.
Wounds aren’t so bad when you have someone to kiss them. Selfishly, it makes you want more. Just so they keep caring.
Lost in him, I naively smile around the pants racking my chest, locking my heavy eyes on his through the sweaty hair hanging around his brows.
He strokes my throat, cracking a smile back at me.
“Are you in love with me, Bunny?” He hangs his head to the left, thrusting in and out of me.
“I told you my cock would ruin you. Now look at you. My horny little rabbit is getting fucked in the dirt like a slut. Ohh, and she’s fuckin’ smilin’ at me while takin’ it. ”
Getting so wet it drips down my clit, I nod, keeping my infatuation on him while resting my head on the prickly grass.
His brows hike, his hips rolling on a controlled flow that has me bouncing off him. He starts to say something, but quickly becomes tongue tied as he watches me reach down my own body, his eyes curiously moving to where my hand’s disappearing between my thighs.
“Yeah, I am,” I answer.
Touching myself gives me the courage to actually say it. My brain tries to convince me to regret it. But the way he’s slashing back up to my face with dilated pupils is enough to fade the brief insecurity.
“You are what?” he exhales, searching my face.
“I’m… I think I’m in love with you.” Whether it’s the ecstasy returning or shyness getting the best of me, my face gets overwhelmingly hot, my entire body breaking out in a rupture of sweat that covers me in sap.
Letting a groan out from his nose, he’s raising a brow and biting the back of my shoulder, giving me the pain I need to remember how good he makes me feel.
“Razor,” I moan whinily, working my fingers faster.
He bites harder. And harder. Etching the sharp ache to my soul and branding my body, despite how many maggots I might still have inside me.
Warmth streams down my back, the sound of his slurp getting lost in how loud my moans have become, how violent the splashes smattering my thighs are getting.
He sucks my skin into his mouth, and that little bit of added pressure makes me implode.
My hips jut and my stomach vacuums, shaking to the merciless sputter of acid eating me from the inside out. I belt a choppy, hoarse cry, my larynx strained from driving my chin into the ground.
There’s a moment when you orgasm, right when you’re about to let your fingers drift away.
It’s a spazzing, lustful rush that knocks your head around, has you chasing it, wanting to see how high you can get.
It kind of makes you feel rotten for being so carnally driven, you’re willing to make a monster out yourself just to feel it.
I claw at the ground, moving my swollen bud in circles and bucking my hips, using my knees as leverage to fall into the mindless solace.
Then I drift, entering the state of reverie I long for.
Razor’s rusty moan crowds my head, my lax body moving to the momentum he’s coming inside me with. “Bunny… Bunny… Bunny, Bunny.”
He chants my name like a prayer, huffing and moaning, worshipping my outstretched body with his palms. It’s validating coming from him. But there’s something insatiable about being chased like meat, then softly touched—like the intention all along was a chance.
We’re both pretty adamant on getting out of here. As soon as he’s pulling out of me, he’s zipping his jeans and pulling my panties up. I don’t expect him to hunch down and kiss my vagina. He’s sweet and tender about it, as if he’s grateful for what I just gave him.
Flushed and dizzy, I giggle to myself, sitting up on my knees and panning around for my overalls, numbly yanking my top back down as the drips of him slowly spill out.
“Here, baby,” he hums.
I look back at him flipping my overalls around to get them pried open for me to step into, and as I wobble up to my feet, the rabbit’s foot is falling from the pocket he’s shaking out—landing right next to his shoe.
My heart fries, stiffly straightening my spine, glued to the little, white bow contrasting against the dirt and grass.
I’m scared to look up at him.
He’s already looking at me. His slits for eyes are dark in my peripheral, like he’s assuming this was a gift from someone.
Crouching down to where I’m looking, he forces himself into my line of sight, mechanically picking the fuzzy foot up while staring at me. “The fuck is that?”
“I stepped on it,” I murmur.
Becoming embarrassed to be standing here in my underwear, my knees bow inward and I cover my midriff with my arms, avoiding the danger threatening to burn everything down in his eyes.
“Hm… You just happened to step on a rabbit’s foot wrapped up in a silk bow?”
“Yes, Razor.”
“Oh, wow, you were even left a little fucking note,” he cheers vapidly.
My ears whoosh, igniting to fire underneath the sun. I know I’ve lied to them a lot about my well-being, but I would never make up something like this. And I told him the truth about Junior. I had to stomp my foot to the ground to do so, but I fucking told him.
Getting mad, I clench my teeth tight, taking the furious steps I need to rip my overalls from his grip. “Yeah, a really creepy note, hence me going to my goddamn tent to try and see what freak left it!”
Huffing, I step into my overalls and yank them up, barely getting them past my hips, before I’m falling into a stride toward the house.
I’m trying to grab at a strap, but they’re both flapping around on my back and I’m not stopping.
So, I use my fury and start thrashing, whipping them side to side with the pivot of my waist, finally getting my hand on one and ripping it over my shoulder.
“You need to tell me this shit, Bun.” Razor runs up next to me, immediately snatching my hand and lacing our fingers extra tight.
“You were busy with a little boy,” I mumble.
His expression flattens. “Alright, you didn’t need to say it like that, like I’m some fuckin’ predator. Jesus.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a clear CD case. “He was helping me make this for you.”
A shot of novocaine clears my bloodstream, taking the CD from his hand and reading my name written in black marker.
I grin. “Thank you. But I don’t think we have a CD player.”
“Oh, fucckkk.” Theatrically dropping his face, he lazily gestures up ahead, toward the sneaks of rusty blue parked out in front of the trailer. “I guess it’s a good thing there’s one sitting in the passenger seat. That would’ve been fucking embarrassing.”
A laugh bubbles up my throat, watching him drop the theatrics and slash a smile on. “That’s so random. Why’d you do it?”
“Because I love hearing you hum. And I love watching you dance.”
Targeting something on the side of the pathway, he hustles out in front of me, yanking a handful of baby’s breath from a shady place and jogging back to his spot next to me.
Feeling myself get a little too happy, I try to tame it, but him lightly tucking a tendril of tiny, white blooms behind my ear fights the internal battle for me.
It’s what we have right now.
“Um…” Sighing, I hold the CD tight to my chest, looking up at him. “Is now a good time to tell you someone stole my money?”