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22
Camdyn
“Ye were expecting Thad? My basic instincts told me to murder him.” I grit out each word. That old fecktwad opened the door, dressed in his skivvies and a silk robe. A seventeen-year-old girl, a feckingwean lives here. That’s unacceptable. Ugh, I’m so angry my Scottish takes over my thoughts. I sound like Mom and Dad.
I move through the bellowing steam. Willow looks me over from my plaid button-down and jeans to my biker boots. Thad had glowered at my beanie until I introduced myself. Once he had that bit of info, Thad allowed me to enter and said he had a business card. He scurried off to retrieve it, and I sought out my possession.
Willow murmurs, “How did you—”
“Thad. Does he fecking touch ye?”My boots stop at the threshold of her vast open shower. Nothing obstructs my sight of Willow but her. She’s got her forearm draped across the small of her stomach. She can’t hide all that ass, though. It’s peeking out from every direction. “Does he touch ya, Willow?”
“Humph, no Lolo, or loving Lo? I take it you’re only asking because that makes me a used vessel. A throwaway?” She snorts. “Where are the cameras?”
Adrenaline rockets into my veins. She’s aware of the Green Room?
“I’m standing here naked, Cam. You could at least laugh.”
The fuck?
“This is a horror film, and I can’t get away from you—even in my shower. I locked my bedroom door and the bath—”
I rest easy. She was attempting a joke. “Don’t insult me.”
“Please pause from being an asshole and be preemptively polite. Just for a while, laugh at my joke about the cameras, the horror film. Laugh at my pain or be the sicko.”
My lips turn upward. “The sicko with the knife fetish.”
I strip down. Silent, she watches me. The only change is the subtle widening of her eyes as I climb into the shower.
“You ready to take from me and ghost me too?” Willow sniffs.
I ignore the beautiful melancholy peppered across her face. “I’ve already said, I need to feel you out, Lo, or—”
She sighs. “Tear me apart.”
“Where’s the mouth? All the talking back?” I keep my distance, letting her watch the water slide over my abs where her tongue begs to taste.
Although grief radiates in Willow’s eyes, she smiles. “Oh, you prefer my insolence? I see. You toe the line between rapey and—”
“I’m not rapey. You want this.” I fist my cock.
“Hmmm, let’s divert to the cliché she, meaning I, was asking for it.”
“Nae.” I laugh, and she pushes at my chest. I like this part. When she’s not afraid but my equal.
“Why can’t you ask me how I’m doing?” Her pillowy, provocative lips twist. “What’s wrong with me?”
I grab the liquid soap and lather over the hard beast I plan to break her with soon. “We already agreed I don’t give a feck, Willow.”
“Then go, Cam.”
Damn, that wasn’t the response I sought. My mouse should’ve grown timid.
I press my mouth to her earlobe. My huge dick crushes into her thigh. “No.”
“You don’t get to say no, Cam. I do. You don’t have the liberty of tormenting and manipulating me tonight. I want to be left alone.”
“No,” I rage, pressing me against her. “Tonight, I’ll be the motherfecker you begged for. The one who sends you to orgasm so hard that, when you finally say no, it’s because every muscle in your body is broken from cumming so hard on my face or my fingers.”
