Page 48 of These Wicked Games
“Why’s that?”
“That was back in New York and they weren’t there yesterday.” I frown. What is he—
“Maybe they just took a bit to show up.”
He smirks, walking past me. Does he . . . No, he can’t know. I need to find a mirror. I have no idea how to use makeup to conceal them. Does it even matter? Everyone will just assume I fucked someone. Not a big deal.
Not like they’d think it was Andre.
This line of thought brings me back to last night. Filling his throat. Choking him with that belt while he sucked me off. The way his hand moved along his gorgeous cock.
Wow. Okay. First time I’ve had that thought. While the thought is foreign it isn’t untrue. Aesthetically, he is beautiful to look at. I didn’t have to be gentle either. Andre didn’t want me to be. He wanted me to choke him, make him gag, and rough him up as hecame all over the floor. I had the urge to taste it. Instead, I shoved my fingers down his throat while he sucked my release off them.
Okay, I need to shut this shit down. These sweatpants aren’t subtle and the last thing I need is to play boner roulette inside this convenience store. It was good. Blew off some steam. Now it’s done.
Right. It’s done, right? Whatever this is, its done.
Something catches my eye as I pass down another isle. A row of adult coloring books fill the magazine rack, and next to it are coloring pencils and markers. I grab the markers then look at the books. I choose one that has a bunch of big cats in intricate detail and one with swearwords in the middle of patterns and designs. Andre was coloring last night when I came in. I was watching him for a minute before I stepped onto the balcony. He looked at peace.
He looked happy.
I flip through the books, eying the pages. These would take me hours to do. Tucking the book under my arm, I try to find my friends. I hear moaning and realize Atlas is inhaling his sandwich at a tiny table. Grey is across from him, but there’s no room for me to sit, so I stand, watching the animal I’ve befriended.
“Be careful, he looks like he’s about to fuck that sandwich,” I say to Grey. “You may be in the splash zone.”
“It’s so good,” Atlas says around a mouthful, actual tears prickling his eyes. Fuck, maybe I need one. I had left early last night despite Grey’s and Atlas’s protests. How much did he drink after I left?
“What do you have?” I look at Grey and realize he means the books.
“Coloring books.”
“Since when do you color?”
“I love to color.” I glare. He cocks a blond brow at me. “Fuck off. Stop questioning everything I do, then giving me that look.”
“What look?”
“The look of judgment.”
“What look of judgment?”
“You habe a whook,” Atlas says, mouth full.
Grey sits up straighter, his eyes narrowing on me. “I do not have a look.”
“It’s the dad look you get. The incoming speech look.” Atlas finishes up his sandwich then whines, “I may pass out again until it’s time to leave. Why did I drink so much?”
“Come on, I’ll buy you a road sandwich.” They get up and we walk to the counter. I order two sandwiches and pay for the coloring book and markers. I feel eyes on my fucking neck.
I keep my own eyes forward. “Knock it off.” The attendant startles as I hand him my credit card. “Him, behind me. Not you. Sorry.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Grey says.
“I can feel the look.” The attendant looks up behind me. “He’s giving me a look, right?”
The attendant smirks a little then nods, handing me my card back. When we’ve waited another ten minutes for Atlas’s second sandwich and my first, we walk back in silence. Atlas thanks me, taking his sandwich and giving me a hug. Oh yeah, someone is sick. I walk toward my hall, freezing as fingers lace around my arm. “What?”
Grey’s quiet for a moment, and I don’t like the searching in his eyes. It’s like he’s peeling back layers of my brain, searching for allmy secrets. Either that or I’m just paranoid. I keep nothing from Grey, but I can’t tell him this. “What’s going on with you?”
