Page 68 of There Are No Saints

Mara sets down her beer. She strides over to the stereo and turns on her music, much too loud as per usual.

Stupid— Ashnikko

Spotify → geni.us/no-saints-spotify

Apple Music → geni.us/no-saints-apple

The pounding beat is easily loud enough for me to make out the lyrics.

Stupid boy thinkthat I need him . . .

A hot,molten heat rises up the back of my neck, all the way to my ears. Simultaneously, my hands go cold.

Mara marches back to the center of the room, directly in front of the camera. She seizes the guy by the shirt and yanks him toward her, kissing him ferociously.

The kiss seems to go on forever.

It’s wild and deep, not unlike the one Mara and I shared only an hour ago.

In fact, I almost feel like I’ve stepped back in time. With his back to me, his shaggy dark hair, and his black t-shirt, her date could be me. And Mara—eyes closed, head tilted back, body pressed against him—looks just as irresistible as she did up close.

I feel like I’m floating inside the room with them, outside my own body.

I watch, transfixed, as Mara pulls his shirt up over his head, baring an athletic body covered in tattoos. She pulls down the shoulder straps of her own tiny floral mini dress, letting the dress puddle around her boots. She steps free, slim and nude, the silver rings glinting in her nipples.

Even from behind, I can tell the guy is gawking at her body.

So am I.

Mara’s figure is so smooth and lithe that I want to draw it without ever lifting my pencil from the page. Her skin is luminescent. She shaved her pussy bare, something I’ve never seen before in my time spying on her.

Who did she do that for?

Was it for me?

Now this fucking nobody is looking at her instead. He’s putting his hands around her waist. Drawing her close to kiss her again.

I want to drive over there. Rip them apart. Smash his head into the wall a hundred times until his skull cracks like a melon and his brains leak out his ears.

But I’m frozen in place, unable to look away from the screen even for a second.

Mara drops to her knees before him. She unbuckles his jeans and yanks them down, letting his cock spring free, already hard. Mine is bigger, but that’s no fucking consolation when she takes him in her mouth, enveloped between her soft, full lips, running her pink tongue up and down his shaft, swirling around the head.

She’s voracious, enthusiastic, playful. Giving him the kind of blowjob men only dream of receiving.

I’m engulfed in jealousy. Inflamed with it. It’s a bonfire all around me, and I’m a heretic tied to the stake, burning and burning and burning.

That mouth belongs aroundmycock. Those slate-gray eyes should be looking up atme.

Despite my fury, despite my raging jealousy, my own cock is stiffening inside my trousers. It jabs painfully against my zipper, demanding to be released.

I can’t stop watching.

Mara stands and the guy swoops her up, lowering her down on his wet, shining cock. She wraps her arms around his neck, riding up and down on him, making her little tits bounce.

She fucks like a demon, biting his lower lip, clawing his back with her nails.

The guy looks like he’s died and gone to heaven. He’s doing his best to keep up with her, sweating, arms shaking, fucking her as hard as she demands. He fucks her against the wall, against the windows, the glass steaming up behind them, their bodies leaving a vacant silhouette when they pull away again.

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