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You know you’re stalling, right?
You can hide for as long as you wish, but I’ll eventually drag you out, baby.
So I’ve been thinking. I don’t do that a lot, but it’s become a habit lately. You know, since you love all that smart shit.
Wanna know what I’ve been thinking about?
Bran
Don’t care.
Glad you asked. I’ve been kind of replaying the image of your ass swallowing my fingers as you came all over my stomach. So fucking hot. I came to that image in fucking waves, picturing your erotic face.
Why on earth do you have to speak that way?
Does that mean you were thinking about it, too? I knew I liked you. Serious question. Wanna do it again? This time, maybe replace my fingers with my cock? I’ll make you feel good when I fuck you, baby, I promise.
You’re not going to fuck me, Nikolai.
Eh, what do you mean I won’t fuck you? Isn’t that the whole point behind your exasperating conditions?
Why do you have to be the one who fucks me? Maybe I should be the one who fucks you.
Baby, you’ve never fucked a guy before and I only top. Besides, you obviously enjoy receiving, judging by the way you came apart on my fingers.
Doesn’t mean I’ll let you fuck me.
Are you still weirded out about being touched by a guy? You clearly loved it, no?
Love is a strong word. I just…didn’t mind it.
*eye roll emoji* Then you won’t MIND the fucking either. I’ll prime you really well and try not to make it hurt. Though you do enjoy a bit of pain, since your cum flooded my mouth when I handled you roughly.
Stop talking.
Penthouse tonight?
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow. It’s a date.
He left me on fucking Read.
That was yesterday. I didn’t go on the run today because of all the demons perching on my shoulders and whispering nasty things in my ear.
It’s the first time I haven’t pounced on the chance to see his face, annoy the fuck out of him, and crawl deeper beneath his skin.
I don’t want him to see me this way. I also can’t trust myself not to fuck him the fuck up the moment he’s in front of me.
My finger is stiff as I exit the text exchange and call the only person I’m comfortable speaking to when I’m in this situation.
The only person who told me, “Fuck the pills. If they erase your fire, don’t take them.”
He picks up after a few rings and speaks in a British accent. “Talk to me, son.”
I pace faster, my feet slapping against the tiles. “It’s coming back, Dad. It’s fucking me up in the head and I want it gone.”
“You’re okay. Breathe.” His voice is calm and firm, but I can sense his affection beneath the control.
