Page 15 of Birdy

"No different than what we're doing right now, other than you being mine. And what I mean by that is—yo no comparto, Benni. Si eres mia, eres mia solamente. Entiendes?"

"I don't share, either," I firmly supply as I snatch the cigar from him because I need him to know thatifI ever give in to this thing—whether it’s right now or six months from now—I don't share. He's either mine, period, or none at all.

Chuckling, he drops me a ways more as I’m hitting the blunt, enough for the very tip to breach my lips.It’s freaking torture."Is it bad that I want to see your claws come out?"

"Yes,” I exhale, rolling my hips to suck him in deeper. “Because it won't fare well for theputaon the receiving end."

Ángel hums around a satisfied smile and squeezes my cheeks, licking hungrily into my mouth.“Malita.Always ready for something.”

“I have to be. Can’t trust nobody out here.”

“Do you trust me?” he questions, and much to my own surprise, I actually shake my head.

“No.”

“Good, you shouldn’t. I know I’m not good for you, not goodenoughfor you, but I wanna be.”That’swhen he drops me, his arm secure around my waist, slowly filling me to the hilt. “Give me a chance to earn your trust, to be enough, to be everything you need."

My breath stills, the heaviness of his words combined with the feeling of him stretching me out more than I can bear. The only reason my eyes don’t bulge from their sockets is because I clamp them shut as my head lolls back. “I can't just leave, Ángel.”

"That's the beauty of it…yes, you can.”

"I-I can't leave my mom," I argue, idly noting he’s taken the cigar from me again.

"We can come back whenever you want. You wanna fly through twice a month, we will. More than that? Done. Whatever you want, it’s yours."

"Please…” He’s hitting it as I right myself to look at him. “You're really going to rearrange your whole life just for me?"

His reply doesn’t come immediately. While holding in that last toke, he holds my stare for a fleeting beat before tossing the blunt into the ashtray on my nightstand. He’s fusing our lips after that, blowing the plume of smoke into my mouth as he rolls me onto my back.

He flexes his hips until he’s entirely embedded.

"I'm not rearranging shit,mami. I'm enhancing it."

Enhancing it? Shit, intensifying everything in tenfold, is more like it. I’m so full and suddenly so goddamn high, I swear I can feel himeverywhere.

It’s too much...

“I’m done talking about this. Just don’t stop,” I mewl, legs spreading wider when his teeth sink into my neck.

“I had no plans to. You think I’m playing, but you’re gonna learn tonight, Benni. You’re gonna learn real fuckin’ good. If there’sstillany doubt in your mind about how I feel and what I want, it’ll be gone by the time I’m done with you. ”

“Stop talking, and just fuck me.” The desperation in my voice is real. “I don’t need the words to come out of your mouth.”

“Say yes, then; that’s it. Just say yes, and we don’t have to keep going in circles,” he counters, snaking his arm beneath one of my legs.

But all I can manage is a shake of my head. This angle, it’s just... He’s too deep, robbing me of my air supply, of any coherent thoughts. Focusing on anything other than the way he pumps in and out of me, how he kisses me, how he touches me—it’s impossible.

And perhaps that was the universe’s way of stopping me from doing something stupid, of reminding me that this is all we were meant to be. Fuck buddies, friends with benefits—nothing less, nothing more.

The stars weren’t aligned that way for us.

At least, not right now, they weren’t.

?Circles - Post Malone

The vehement blareof my alarm wakes me the next morning at eight sharp. Groaning, I roll over and blindly swipe my phone’s screen to silence the damn thing before face-planting back into the pillow. If I could stay in bed today, I would. I’m tired and sore as hell, but I need to take a trip down to the warehouse. It's been one too many days since my last visit, and while I know Gael—my right-hand man—takes care of everything in my absence, I can't go long without making my sweeps and showing my face. Where Ángel prefers anonymity and the element of surprise that brings to the table, I prefer to be seen. Iwantthem to see me, want them to know me. Gael may be the one ordering them around and delegating work on a daily basis,pero yo soy la Jefa,and they'll do damn well to remember that.

“Ángel,” I moan, knowing I’m not going to get out of this bed if he’s still in it. “Wake up.”

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