Images of me removing all the parts of him that have ever touched her flash behind my eyes.
I don’t release him from my gaze as I say, “Hey, baby. Just met your friend. He seems nice. Kinda dreamy if you ask me. Maybe we’ll have a beer at the country club once I’m allowed to drink again.”
“We went to school together,” Shosh says, her voice hitching higher. She didn’t exactly lie, now did she? Still, I’m filled with the need to fuck her in front of him so there is no mistaking who she really belongs to.
Moving quickly, she soon stands between us, pushing me backwards a few steps. I let her. She pretends to check the incision on my chest, but it isn’t a smooth move.
It’s sloppy.
He knows what you did, baby.
Did you press your hands to my chest to get me away from him. . . or to get him away from me?
I feel a hand on mine, but don’t look down, already aware she is taking the fork from me and placing it in her scrub pocket. How she knew. . . Of course she did.
Unable to tear my glare away from him, I measure him up again, this time as my girl’s suitor. As the man who holds her in his arms every night.
Six foot, maybe. A lean looking guy with a clean outward appearance, gentle facial features, and a smooth, hairless jawline. Older than her. At least a decade older. She always did have daddy issues. . . I wonder what he uses to fuck her with. Staring down at his fingers, I now know they have been inside her, touching the tight coil of muscles that throb when stroked just right.
I clamp my teeth together, squashing the dangerous feelings inside me.
Doctor Fucking Clean and Wholesome.
How is she not bored?
Flaring his eyes at me, the clogs in his head move, showing him a slideshow of me, perhaps. . . with her. I hope it hurts a little knowing I’ve been inside her.
Looking down at her, her little fingers on my chest, the same ones that used to stroke my cock so eagerly, I notice a tan line around her ring finger. My heart halts to a gut-wrenching stop. My teeth lock. I hiss at the sight.
You didn’t give her back to me.
You’re taunting me with her.
I will myself not to move, not even an inch. If I do, I’m not sure what will happen. Carnage, I think and smile.
Her lovely lips are open, drawing air in fast. “It looks good,” she mutters breathily.
I growl low into her ear. “You always did think so.”
She closes her eyes, holding them pressed together for a few seconds. I watch as one of her heels rises, and I can picture her little toes curve within their confines. She’s nervous. Or turned on. Or both.
Do I need to remind you how I can make you feel, baby?
Then she walks away from me.
She stops by Dr Clean’s side. “Can I have a word?”
They leave.
And I still don’t trust myself enough to move.
Bronson
Fifteen years old
The sun shinesthrough the thin layer of skin over my eyes, forcing a half-conscious state I am dead set on fighting. Luckily, with it comes the scent of my girl’s strawberry shampoo and the feel of her silky black hair as it brushes my cheek.
Tightening my grip around her, I feel her torso moving as her breathing shifts, indicating her broken slumber. I grab the pillow from behind my head and place it on the other side of hers, shielding her from the sun as it drills through the bullshit thin curtains at her window.