Page 70 of Fragmented Illusions
“Of course it bothers me, Spencer. I’m telling you to fucking get ahold of yourself and control it. If you were paying attention, you would realize how fuckingcloseshe is. Pay attention to her behavior, you petulant child, and you might notice things that aregood for us.”
I rear back at his words. My eyes widen and I’m shocked when I feel my eyes sting. He’s never talked to me like that before. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the cheesy horror film playing in front of us. Sol’s voice rings out in my head, about me acting like a child, and I hate how badly it stings. Because now he’s said it, I know it’s true.
I don’t know how long the movie goes on for. I barely pay it any mind as I watch the back of Fallon’s head, her hair pin-straight and hanging down. I catch a few glimpses of her rounded cheekbones as she glances at her terrified friend. A smile pulls at the corner of her red lips, and I swallow as I feel my dick twitch in my sweatpants.
She shifts around in her seat, angling her body to the side and my head tilts to the side in amusement as she presses her thighs together. With a smirk playing at my lips pressed against my mask, I dart my eyes up at the screen. The murderer is stalking a woman with a blood-spattered mask and my smirk turns into a full-blown grin.
I lean back and into Sol to whisper into his ear. “Hey, the phone.” I hold my hand out and he drops the disposable cell into my gloved palm. I quickly type out a text to Fallon and hand it to Sol so he can read it.
I stare at him as he reads it and when he’s done, he clicks the screen off, dropping the phone into his lap as we both turn our gazes back to Fallon. Her head jerks up after she reads my text and her head moves from right to left slowly as she scans the room, searching for us, I presume.
Finally, she glances behind her, squinting her eyes. When they land on us, I get the sickest satisfaction at her reaction—although it is pleasantly different than it used to be. She’s frozen for a moment with her eyes locked on us. Then she inhales deeply, appearing almost defeated.
I cock my head to the side, and out of the corner of my eyes, I see Sol subtly nod at her. Her eyebrows pinch together, likely confused, but also aware of what we’re saying—without actually saying it.
Play in the dark with us, pretty girl.
Be with us.
She turns back around, but she is nowhere near relaxed. I can see the rigidity of her body and I know her pulse is hammering in her neck. She fidgets in her seat, growing more uncomfortable by the second.
Sol picks the phone back up and begins typing out a text to her. I lean over to see what he’s saying and after he hits the send button, our gazes lock on one another. My heart stutters at the intensity of his gaze.
Ifeelit. The need pulsing through the both of us—allthreeof us. Even from two rows back, I can feel it racing through her too. And it’s becoming harder and harder for her to fight it off.
Stop fighting it, pretty girl.
Both of our eyes fly back to Fallon when we see her phone light up. It’s dim—probably the lowest setting, but still obvious in a dark theater. After she reads his two texts, her head falls back against the seat. Her neck arches so beautifully in that position and I grab myself through my sweats.
I slowly start to work myself through my pants, growing harder by the second. Seeing her neck arched like that makes me think of when I was cutting into her, and she was struggling even though we all knew she wanted it.
“Spencer.” Solomon’s hushed, yet demanding voice sounds directly in my ear. I already know what he’s going to say, but I can’t.
I fucking can’t.
“Yes, you can,” he says, as if he can read my fucking mind. Actually, he probably can.
“Sol,” I whimper. My head falls back against the chair, mimicking Fallon’s posture. I dig the heel of my hand into my erection and groan at the pressure. I’m already so close. I want her to come over here and wrap her tiny little hand around me. Then if Sol were to wrap his around hers and increase the pressure just a bit…
“Goddamnit,Spencer.”
I’m abruptly yanked to my feet and pulled out the theater door, then outside into the blistering wind. Snow flurries all around, although none of it is sticking to the ground quite yet. I would shiver, but Solomon’s heat encases me entirely as he presses his front to my back and pushes me around the corner of the building.
I stumble down the alleyway, tripping over my feet as they tangle with Sol’s, but he keeps me steady with his arm wrapped tightly around my torso. He grips the edge of my mask and slowly pulls it over my face.
Suddenly, my face is shoved into the coarse brick wall of the building as Solomon presses against me. I groan as I feel the ridges of the brick bite into my skin, the coolness of them contrasting greatly with the heat at my back.
“You’re always so fucking needy. And always at the worst fucking time, Spencer,” Sol almost growls. He sounds angry. Annoyed.
I’m fucking elated.
I love getting this reaction from him. I love getting any reaction in general.
And if this all plays out, Fallon will too.
“I can’t help it.” I sound whiney, even to my own ears, but I don’t care. Not when I’m about to get what I want anyway.
“You can. You just don’t want to.” He pulls his arm from around my chest and grabs the hem of my hoodie. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, he trails his fingers up, underneath the material. His long fingers trail across my skin, his short, trimmed nails digging in when he reaches the ridges of my ribs.
