Page 138 of Scattered Glitter

“Good…” Sylus breaks my scattered thoughts as he cups my chin, lifting my face to meet his eyes, “… because you’re not getting rid of me now. You own me.”

“Sylus…” I sigh, immediately feeling guilty at his declaration. As much as I want to keep him close for comfort, hurting him is not what I want. “I can’t let you own me back.”

Being someone’s means trusting them, and that possibility is one I left behind the day the two people I ever trusted died.

He shrugs. “You don’t have to own something to love it.”

I freeze.

Love.

Did I hear him say that when I woke up?

He can’t mean that. He barely knows me.

Tension grips me, every instinct telling me to run before this gets even further out of my control. He chuckles as if he can read my mind, then presses a soft kiss to my lips as he stands. “Don’t overthink it, Sparkle. No need to hyperventilate. Everything is all right and stays as it is.” He grins. “I’llgrab you something to clean up and some sweats if you want to shower at home.”

I take a deep breath as he disappears into a walk-in closet, giving me a view of his perfect ass, complete with a tattoo of a goose with a knife, of all things just like the smiley face on his foot. It’s so him.

I stand and look around the room for the first time. It’s big. Big enough to make the giant bed seem proportionate. There’s an amazing computer setup on a large desk by the window, three screens, controllers, and a gaming chair that looks like it costs more than all of my furniture combined. But it’s all a mess. There’s a corner piled with clothes that are probably dirty, but it still smells good in here despite it. Like him—warm leather and amber with a hint of weed.

All sorts of techy gadgets are scattered around. He’s definitely into all that stuff. I guess I never thought about what his place would be like, so it’s strange seeing this side of him.

I walk over to the desk, still naked, and spot a pack of cigarettes lying next to an almost full ashtray. I glance around, trying to find my purse, but I don’t see it. Instead, I grab the lighter from next to the ashtray and light a cigarette, turning to lean my hip against the desk as I inhale the smoke, and it instantly does a better job of calming me than anything else has.

Sylus emerges from the walk-in closet in a gray pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips now, and his chest is bare, showing off all those defined abs, pierced nipples, and tattoos.

Damn him for being so hot.

His eyes rake over me, and his cum slides down the inside of my thigh as if in response to his presence. His gaze zeroes in on it, and he groans, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back before he tosses the sweats he apparentlygrabbed for me onto the bed and closes the distance between us in a few steps.

Sylus kneels in front of me, his finger gliding up my thigh, collecting his cum before spreading it back over my pussy. “I wanted to help you clean up, but damn, now I want to make an even bigger mess,” he says, his voice dripping with heat as he kisses my pelvis.

“Stop it, you dork.” I chuckle and push his forehead away, taking another drag of my cigarette.

He stands, anchors his hands to my hips, and leans in to kiss me. I part my lips, letting the smoke drift into his mouth as he inhales, then I crash my lips to his in a long, deep kiss. He breaks it with a sigh, exhaling the smoke as he pulls away.

“Fuck, you’re trouble,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on mine.

Trouble.

The word sends a sharp pang through me, and I look away, shaking my head. “I’m not,” I mutter, handing him the cigarette. He takes it, his fingers brushing mine, and I walk over to the bed, grabbing the sweatpants and hoodie he tossed there. I pull the sweatpants on first, not caring about the mess his cum is making. It’ll be fine until I get home. The sweats are so long that the fabric bunches around my ankles, and I have to tug the drawstring tight so they don’t slip off me.

When I push my head out of the hoodie, an embroidery set next to his bed catches my eye. I pick it up, examining the small hoop. In a cute, simple embroidery style, flowers are surrounding the wordsShit Balls, though theSis still unfinished. I turn to him in disbelief.

“You do embroidery?”

Sylus chuckles, steps up behind me, and takes the hoop from my hands, placing it on the bed. “Oscar taught me howto do it when I acted out as a teen. It was his way of showing me how to work out my anger issues. I tend to get lost in screens and tech, which inevitably makes me angrier, so this was his way of showing me how to focus without a computer. Whenever weed doesn’t help calm my mind, I get the hoop out.” He shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. “Lately, I’ve not been smoking as much, so I do this more.”

I glance around and spot two more completed hoops mounted above his bed. One readsEat Dickwith an embroidered eggplant, and the other saysEat Another Dickwith a little pickle stitched underneath. I burst out laughing as I look over my shoulder at him.

“I see you’re into inspiring quotes,” I tease as I lean back against him.

He chuckles, then nips at my earlobe. “Had to find something to keep myself busy while I waited for you to decide if you wanted to see me again.”

“I’m sorry.” I lean my head back against his shoulder and look up at him. “I was being a cunt.”

“You’ve got a pretty nice one, so I’ll let it slide.” He smirks, his fingers slipping under the hoodie and tracing slow circles along my hip.

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