Page 41 of Veil of Smoke

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” I say, hands on her hips.

“Yeah?” she whispers, rolling her hips. “Tell me.”

“So tight,” I groan. “So wet. Keep going.”

She does. Rides me steady, leaning forward, her tits brushing my chest. “Come for me again,” she says, voice low.

“Come with me,” I shoot back, thrusting up.

She moans. Picks up speed. “Fuck, yes,” she gasps. “I’m close.”

I grab her ass. Pull her down hard. “Now,” I say, voice rough.

She shatters. Her pussy squeezes me, and she cries out, trembling. I follow, coming deep inside her, a low growl tearing from my throat.

We collapse together. Tangled, sweaty, breathless.

She drapes a blanket over us. Stays pressed against me, skin to skin.

“Damn,” she mutters, tracing my chest. “We’re good at this.”

“Yeah,” I say, hand on her back. “We are.”

The record upstairs clicks. A saxophone hums through the ceiling, low and smooth.

I lift a hand. Trace her wrist.

“Let’s destroy it all,” I say.

She doesn’t ask what I mean.

“Together,” she says.

I press my forehead to hers.

That’s a promise I won’t break.

She shifts closer. Her breath steadies against my neck.

I close my eyes.

The jazz plays on.

Her fingers lace with mine.

We don’t move.

Chapter 9 – Viviana

The lake smells like rust and ice.

The wind is a little harsh along the docks like a live thing, wrapping around rusted barrels and rotting rope piles, making every shape feel uncertain. The cold slides under my coat like a thief. It finds ribs, spine, anywhere it can sink in

My hand stays deep in my coat pocket, wrapped around the handle of the knife Dario handed me twenty minutes ago.

“You don’t stab to wound,” he said. “You stab to finish. Don’t wait.”

Now I walk alone, each step steady over groaning wooden planks. Wind whistles past the shipping containers stacked like tombstones. The only light comes from a dim floodlight blinking near the loading ramp, flickering like it’s second-guessing itself.

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