Page 76 of Horror and Chill
I grip myself tighter and drag my fist down slowly, groaning as I picture her lips painted black and wrapped around me. I pump harder, no mercy, imagining her grin, her eyes locked onmine as her teeth scrape the underside just enough to sting. Pain laced with pleasure, the way I crave it.
The heat builds fast, spilling over until my release coats my hand. I smile through it, chest heaving, head full of her.
It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. Not until it’s her lips, her body, her fire breaking and burning under me.
I grab a T-shirt from the floor and clean up quickly.
Sleep drags me under roughly. When I dream, she’s there again, wearing black, blood dripping from her mouth, whispering my name like a curse and a vow.
I wake to sunlight cutting through the blinds. My head feels heavy, but the sound that pulls me up is laughter. Low, soft, carried from downstairs.
I throw on a shirt and stomp down the steps, ready to find out what the hell’s so funny.
The smell hits me first. Bacon. Grease popping in a skillet. Garron’s at the stove, spatula in hand, moving slow and steady like he’s been doing this his whole life. Evander’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, that unreadable calm pasted on his face.
And Agatha.
She’s sitting on the counter, barefoot, legs swinging, a mug of coffee in her hands. Her hair’s loose around her shoulders. She’s glaring at Garron for hovering too close to the pan, but the corner of her mouth keeps twitching like she can’t help almost smiling.
For a second, I just stand there. Watching. My gut twists with something sharp and ugly and hungry all at once. Because she looks like she belongs here, perched in our kitchen like she’s always been part of it.
And if she belongs here, then she belongs to me.
I step in, shoulders loose, mouth already twitching with the grin I know will piss her off. “Well, well. Look at our little prisoner. Sipping coffee like she’s queen of the place.”
Her eyes cut to me sharp as a blade. “Better than sitting in your room jerking off, I guess.”
I laugh, loud, clapping once just to make her flinch. “Touché, Little Horror. But let’s not pretend you weren’t thinking about me while you sipped that.”
Her lips twitch, fighting not to smirk, and it makes my cock twitch.
“Eat,” Garron rumbles, sliding a plate her way. Eggs, bacon, toast. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t need to. His whole vibe screamsdon’t push too far.
I lean closer to her, palms braced on the counter. “Better eat up. You’ll need your energy tonight. Cemeteries take it out of a girl.”
She stares right back, bites into a strip of bacon slowly, like she’s taunting me. “Energy for filming. Not for whatever fucked-up fantasy you’re building in your head.”
I chuckle, low. “Sweetheart, my fantasies are tame compared to what’s coming.”
Evander’s voice cuts through, smooth and even. “Corwin.” Just my name, but it’s a warning.
I straighten, flashing him a grin. “Relax, little brother. I’m just making conversation.”
Agatha sips her coffee, eyes flicking between us like she’s enjoying the cracks in the walls. She shouldn’t be, but she is.
Garron slides another plate across the table, one meant for me. “Sit and eat, or shut the fuck up.”
I take it, drop into the chair, but I don’t stop watching her. The way her bare legs swing against the cabinet. The way she refuses to shrink. She thinks she’s playing with us, testing theedges of the leash. She doesn’t realize I like her best like this—sharp, mouthy, pretending she’s not halfway to breaking.
I pop a piece of bacon into my mouth and point at her with the fork. “Better hope your little Valentine shoot comes out pretty, Little Horror. Because if it doesn’t, I’m voting we re-shoot. With me as the director.”
She rolls her eyes so hard I swear I hear it. “Over my dead body.”
I grin, teeth flashing. “Careful. You might get what you ask for.”
The room hums with it, tension thick as smoke. And Agatha? She sits there on the counter, sipping her coffee, daring us to push her harder.
And we will. Tonight.
