Page 65 of Property of Necro
“Okay. So, you love to give pain. But you don’t like receiving it?” Her heels rub up and down the backside of my thighs.
“That depends.” I brush my thumbs across the underside of her chin. Her skin is like silk.
“On what?” Sola asks, sounding far more intrigued than she should be.
“Who’s givin’ the pain. If it’s you, I’m down.” Pretty sure this witch could do just about anything to me, and I’d want it.
“You’re actin’ weird again.”
“Get used to it, Sweet Cheeks,” I growl, throw her a sinister wink, and drop my hands to reach under her fine ass, where I grab a nice handful, and scoot her off the workbench onto the floor.
Sola stands, and I collect her Crocs that must have fallen off in the middle of our playtime. Kneeling at her feet, I help her into them. She uses my shoulder for balance. Staring down at me, she shakes her head in obvious confusion.
“What?” I smirk and lean in to kiss her stomach before I stand.
“Weird. Weird. Weird,” she chants, shaking her head again.
I hum and take her much smaller hand into mine. Once we’ve located the first aid kit, disinfected her cut, and covered it with a clean bandage, we exit my workshop. She walks to the edge of the hill, where it begins to descend into the valley, as I engage the security system. One can never be too careful.
Stepping beside her, Sola tips her head back, eyes closed, and soaks up the afternoon rays. Her long, red-blonde lashes kiss the tops of her freckled cheeks. They’re more prominent outside. Cute, brown dots scatteredacross pale flesh. They suit her. Before Sola, I’d never considered redheads attractive. If I’m honest, I’ve never considered most women attractive. They’re a means to an end. But Rot was right. She’s different.
I feel something for her.
A little.
Which is a fuckuvalot more than I’ve felt for anyone else.
I don’t hate her much.
Only a little.
That’s the demons talking. They talk a lot.
Iris's face pops into my head as it often does. Always lurking. Even in death, the bitch won’t let go.
Crossing both arms over my chest, I blow out a harsh breath, and with it, Iris’s wrinkly face floats into the ether… for now.
Chapter
Twenty
Coffin’s actin’weird.
And weirder and… weirder.
Right now, he’s quiet and broody.
Alright, that’s not so different from usual, except he’s been nice to me today. He gave me a mind-blowing orgasm, and don’t tell him, but the cut is kinda hot.
Yep. I’ve officially lost my mind.
I have Stockholm syndrome.
That must be it.
Only I’m not a hostage. Not really. I came here of my own free will, and if I tried hard enough, I might be able to get away. Maybe. Possibly.
Who knows? I haven’t tried and don’t plan to anytime soon.
