Page 18 of Volik

That spot between my thighs throbs.

I want to see him this close.

In real life.

I lower my hand from the screen, down to my lap.

I want to see him with his shirt off.

My fingers work their way into the waistband of my sweatpants.

I want to touch him.

Chapter 7

Volik

My fangs dig into the piece of wood as I stroke my dick.

Splinters press against my gums.

But I just grip my length harder.

I jerked off yesterday, as soon as I got home.

And this is the second time since the clock hit midnight.

There is no one around to hear me.

Even if they were outside my front door, no sound escapes my home.

But I am sick of hearing my own groans, sick of listening to myself lose control.

So I bite down harder on the broken chair leg and lean my head forward, pressing the tips of my horns against the stone shower wall.

The pressure helps the still pulsing ache in my skull.

I lean more weight forward, increasing the pressure on my horns.

I grind my fangs deeper into the wood.

And the scent that’s not a scent fills my lungs as my cock pulses.

Chapter 8

Nix

My skin feels… weird.

It’s not itchy. Or painful. It just feels… weird. Stimulated.

I grip the strap of my bag tighter and keep my attention on the walking path ahead of me.

Think about class.

Focus on the schedule.

Teach Ethics in Journalism at nine and eleven. Eat the cupcake that’s hopefully not getting squished in my bag. Review my notes for tomorrow. Go home. Finish the day figuring out how to perform an exorcism on myself.