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“Who said anything about me going to jail?”
Waitingfor Friday night feels torturous and unending. I thought I was exerting my control and building anticipation for Mona by not giving her details and cutting off texting with her, but I’m the one who’s restless. On Thursday night, I drive over to her place on auto-pilot, desperate for even the sight of her through the windows.
For the first time since we’ve met, the blinds are all closed. I want to break down her door and punish her for denying my fix. Because that’s what seeing Mona is for me now. A drug that I crave at all hours of the day. I fuck my fist multiple times a day in an attempt to get some semblance of relief, but it’s not enough. The only thing that will soothe my craving is burying myself deep inside her pussy as she screams my name.
Later that night, she texts me about safewords and her hard limits, and I feel foolish that I didn’t think to look into safety tools. But I’ve never done anything like this before. In fact, I’ve actively avoided pursuing anything too kinky because it felt like I was giving in to my succubus side. For the first time, I wish I’d listened when my mom tried to have sex talks with us instead of getting so embarrassed that I tuned her out or found an excuse to leave. Having a system in place helps settle my nerves for the weekend, but makes me even more ravenous for Mona.
Friday evening rolls around at last. I attempt to busy myself with some initial surveillance of the candidate for the paranormal council, though my mind wanders the whole time. The hours following them and waiting for something interesting to happen feel twice as long as usual. When I can no longer focus, I call it a day and return home for some final preparations.
For once, when I walk into my cold, beige rental home, it feels perfect. A shiver of excitement runs down my spine as I wonder what Mona will think of the scene I’ve set for our weekend together. The bedroom in particular…shit, maybe I’m going too far with this, but she told me she wanted everything from her dreams.
Will she try to escape? Do I want her to fight me? Yes, gods, I do. I feel psychotic, guilty for something I haven’t yet done, and more alive than ever.
25
If there’s one good thing to come from my nerves about what will happen with Max tonight, it’s that I don’t have the energy to worry about showing my burlesque routine to the rest of the class. My classmates’ praise and notes go in one ear and out the other as my mind wanders to what Max would think if he saw my dance.
As we’re heading out of the studio, Blair passes me a piece of paper ripped from her notebook. “For when you’re able to think about anything other than Max.” On the page, she’s written out all the feedback I received for my routine.
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t end up needing to be literal. Remember—text me by 1 or I’m coming for you.”
“How would you even know how to find me?” Her smile at my question tells me it’s some weird vampire shit. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”
Grace slides in beside me once we’re out on the sidewalk, sweeping her long blonde waves over her shoulder in a casual movement that doesn’t escape Blair’s notice. “You coming with us to Nightlight, Blair?”
“Another time. I’m meeting someone.”
Grace’s smile falters, but she nods. “Of course. Hope it goes well!” Her falsely chipper tone betrays her disappointment, and she waves goodbye with a little too much enthusiasm as Blair walks away.
“Okay, what’s going on there?” I ask in a low voice, raising a questioning brow at Grace. I’m dying to know and desperate for any distraction from the growing pit in my stomach as the time to walk back to my car gets closer.
Her pale skin turns a deep pink shade. “W-what? What do you mean?”
“I get it. Blair is super hot. Just didn’t know you were into women.”
“I’m not! She’s not…jeez, can we get a drink before you start grilling me?” Her voice comes out as a high squeak, which I recognize as a tell for when she’s trying to hide something. Not that I’ll push the subject, no matter how curious I am. When I came out as bi in college, Grace was shocked, but supportive. I wouldn’t expect her to be closed off about her own sexuality, but I know from personal experience it isn’t always easy to figure out.
She’s not shy about her attraction to men. Grace flirts with the handsome bartender while I grab a table in the back corner. Her eyes sparkle with amusement as she laughs at his joke and her touch lingers on his hand when she grabs our drinks.
“Thanks!” I say when she joins me. I went for hard liquor tonight because I need something to combat the nerves that are threatening to explode out of me. “Did you ever end up going out with him?”
“Who? The bartender? No, we made plans, but I canceled.”
I bite my tongue to keep myself from asking if that was after we started hanging out with Blair.
“Speaking of dates, what’s up with the fancy look tonight? Trying to pick up someone new? Or do you have a date with Max later?” She waggles her eyebrows at me and leans forward on her elbows.
“Is it a crime to want to look nice?”
“Girl, you look more than nice. You’re practically begging for someone to screw you in those heels.”
“Grace!” I flush and let out a strangled laugh. She has no idea how accurate her words are.
“So youareseeing Max tonight.”
“Probably.” I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen. I’ve run through every possible scenario of what might happen when I leave the bar in an hour. Maybe he’s messing with me and nothing will happen. My stomach clenches tighter at the thought. God, what’s wrong with me that I’d rather get attacked by him in the dark than get home safely?
