As I pound her senseless
Until she comes
Undone.
I dream
Of sinking into her slick pink cunt
Licking the wetness from her lips
Until she quivers like a rose petal
Coated in shimmering droplets
Translucently bruised
Magnificently broken.
I dream
Of fucking her into submission
But when I wake
It’s me who is fucked.
twenty-one
Harper Apple
I want to talk to Royal about the bike, but I know better than to ask at lunch when his friends are around. He’s a complete asshole when he has an audience. It’s only when we’re alone, or in science, where the tables are set up for partners instead of groups, that I can talk to him. When I get to class, he’s already there, leaning back in his chair with his long legs spilling from under the table. His flawless face is serious as always, and even though he’s looking at his phone and I can’t see his eyes, my breath catches stupidly in my chest at just the sight of him.
God, I’m so fucking ridiculous.
I drop into the seat beside him, frustrated with myself for being so fucking affected by him. I want to be cool like he is, but better. I don’t want to just pretend I don’t feel it. I want to stop feeling it, to become immune to Dolce fever entirely.
“Thanks for the bike,” I say. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
He looks up from his phone, and I see the shadows of a bruise on his jaw. I’m sure I’m right about him fighting. But you can’t just go up to someone and ask, the way you could ask if you saw them at the football game last weekend.
The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk. “No, Stalker Girl. It wasn’t thoughtful. It was settling up.”
I give him some side-eye.
“I know I don’t owe you shit,” he says. “I told you not to come down there, and you did, and you got arrested. That’s on you.”
“Fair enough,” I say, determined to be as cool as he is. Our attraction is palpable, crackling like electricity in the space between us. I know he feels it, too, but aside from one time, he’s never acknowledged it or reacted to it. If he can put it aside and force himself to be unaffected by it, then I can, too.
“That was to make it clear we’re more than even, in caseyouthought we owed you more.”
“Got it,” I say, reminding myself this is all business. It doesn’t matter if there’s an attraction between us. He’s obviously not interested in acting on it, and I have no interest in fucking a guy who already calls me a slut when I haven’t even given it up.
“Good,” he says, opening his textbook. “So leave me the hell alone and stop talking to me.”
“Gladly.”
Okay, then. Guess that’s it. Royal made it clear his gesture wasn’t out of kindness or even generosity. It was a bribe to get me to leave him alone. Apparently the Bye Week peace between social groups has limits.