Page 44 of Bully

I hung my head between my arms, gasping for breath, and then shimmied to lower my knees to the stairs, relieving the ache in my hips. I looked over my shoulder when he ran his finger across my ass, rubbing the come he covered me with into my skin. “Why do you do that? I’m not a canvas, you know. It’s gross.”

“Would you prefer I mark your skin in a more brutal way?” He asked, wiping my skin with his discarded shirt before pulling my pants back up so I could turn around and sit down. My white jeans were destroyed by the grimy fire escape and ground, but it was worth it for the ecstasy I got in exchange.

“Like what? Cutting me open with your spiky dagger?” I scoffed, raising one brow at him as he rolled his eyes at me.

“Funny.” He droned, “You’re not into receiving pain. So, I use a painless brand.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and squinted at him. “You can’t brand something that isn’t yours.”

“Sure.” He nodded, and pulled his keys from his pocket, seconds before the headlights on his sporty car flashed in the lot at the end of the alley. “Whatever you say, Rainbow.”

“God,” I stood up, adjusting my clothes as my irritation with him started building again in place of the connection we had a moment ago. “Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.” He put his hands in his pockets and stared me down.

“You’re insufferable.” I shoved past him on the way to his car, considering I had no intention of getting into a stranger’s car looking like I just got wrestled on a soccer field in April. Instead, I’d get into the Devil’s car and make him drive me home after being the one to make me look that way.

Maybe I’d let him do it again before kicking him to the fucking curb once and for all when I got home.

Maybe.

Chapter 19 – Tamen

Therewasafantasticchance she’d shoot me.

I wasn’t worried about stabbing, hitting, or any other hand to hand injuries, because I was faster and stronger than her. But firearms, on the other hand, she could most definitely get to me with a bullet before I could dodge it.

Did Sloane have a firearm in her apartment that was decorated with pink pastel wallpaper and gold furniture?

She probably had a bloody bazooka, knowing her.

I looked away from my laptop screen where I had been placing liquor orders for the last two hours and glanced at my watch—again. How on earth did someone sleep until two in the afternoon? It was unnatural.

As if my annoyed thoughts summoned her, a door clicked down the hallway and I looked over the top of my laptop as my disheveled Rainbow stumbled out of her pitch-black bedroom, bouncing her shoulder off the frame in the process. Her hair was tied up in some sort of silk bonnet my grandmother would have worn, and she wore a t-shirt eight sizes too big with the picture of some ugly frowning cat on the front of it. To tie the pathetic outfit together, a pair of pink bunny slippers on her feet scuffed against the wood floor as she shuffled her way toward me with her eyes screwed shut and her hands on the walls to guide her.

Sloane was a menace to her own safety.

Silently, I closed my laptop and watched the train wreck move through her apartment, stubbing her toe on the chair at the island and nearly taking her closed eye completely out of her head with the handle of the upper cupboard she opened blindly. As she reached for a coffee mug with her eyes still closed, the potential for disaster made me restless. The clinking of mugs and the quiet hum of the refrigerator were almost deafening in the tense silence.

“Is there a reason you won’t open your eyes?” I asked, and on cue, her amber eyes shot open as a terrified scream ripped from her lips.

She found me sitting on her couch with my feet up on the coffee table and sagged briefly in relief before her favorite emotion to throw my way took over.

Rage. Her rainbow aura was red now.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” She screeched, “How did you get in?” She glanced at the front door, that was shut and locked, before she continued on, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath. “Did you break my door? What is wrong with you? How am I going to lock out the crazies of this city if you break down my fucking door!”

“How am I supposed to answer any of those questions if you don’t ever shut up long enough for me to speak?” I yawned, unimpressed, rising to my feet as I walked toward her. She tightened her lips and crossed her arms over her bare tits beneath the frowning cat, “God, that shirt is dreadful.”

“Get out!” She snapped one arm out toward the door, and I tried to ignore the way her free tits swung under the shirt.

Tried.

“Stop it.” I closed the distance between us and grabbed the mug off the shelf behind her, caging her into the counter exactly like I had two nights ago on the fire escape. Before she ghosted me.Again. “You’re going to make your neighbors believe you’re in danger in here with all that screeching.”

“You bastard.” She shoved me and took the mug from my hand, huffing and turning to her coffee maker. “Get out.”

Placing my hands on each side of her on the counter, I leaned down so she could feel my body heat against her back and took a deep inhale of her scent at her neck. Her hands froze, halfway through programming her fancy machine as her breath hitched when I brushed my lips against her lower ear. “We both know you’d rather I gave you orgasms for your midday meal, instead.”

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