Page 27 of Pretty Poisoned

"There's a landline in Declan's room," she says. "But like I said, it'll be fine. There won't be any emergencies."

"I'm going to go find something to eat," Hazel says, slipping out of the room.

"Me, too," River says. "What about you? Are you hungry?"

"Umm…I think I need to call my sister first," I say. "And take a shower."

"Okay," she says. "I'm sorry about Luca."

She leaves, pulling the door closed behind her, and I quickly grab my phone from the charger.

A few more texts from Blakely, two from my mom, and one from Hunter late last night. Overwhelmed, I close them, then decide I should at least let Blakely know what's going on.

Hey, you know that guy I think is killing women? He's going to take me to a secluded home in the mountains, and when we get there, he's taking my phone.

Yeah, I probably shouldn't say that.

ME Hey. I'm on the bus with the band. We are going back to their home in Idaho. They don't allow phones there. Please don't text me until you hear from me—I don't know who might be reading them.

BLAKELY What!? So, you still think they're murderers or you're just hanging out? Are you drinking blood, too?

ME Not sure yet, but I'm serious, Blake. Don't text me or DM me until I tell you it's okay. I'm going to clear these out.

BLAKELY Well, I wanted to let you know that one of our offers was accepted. You need to come home soon so we can deal with the living situation. Also, Austin rescheduled your interview for Thursday. Please take this seriously.

I throw the phone down on the bed, roll over, and scream into the pillow. Fuck. That was fast. This is the last thing I need right now.

ME Awesome. Bye.

I send my mom something more generic about being in the mountains and not having signal and how I'll be home later this week, then delete my messages and log out of my socials and emails.

Just in case.

Then, I tuck it into my bag and slip into the small bathroom. I pile my long, dark hair into a bun on top of my head and turn the water on. I'm not surprised when there's next to no pressure and it comes out lukewarm at best. It's probably not meant to be used frequently.

I could use a cold shower anyway, honestly. I've been watching and listening to other people having sex for days now. I had one of the most attractive men I've ever seen in real life in bed withme minutes ago—kissing me, touching me. Sliding his fingers inside me, my hand wrapped around the base of his huge dick.

Not having a rag or loofa, I lather some soap on my hands and begin running them over my skin.

And it is huge. Of course, it is. It's not enough that he's like a tattooed Adonis, carved from stone and exuding sex appeal as if he invented it. No, he actually has the dick to back up all of that mother fucking attitude.

And he said he was going to fuck me until I cry. I haven't cried in years, so that'd be a fun game to play. I'd show him exactly how fucking sturdy I am. Maybe I'd be the one to break him instead; he doesn't know me.

I wonder if Declan is even bigger. They are brothers. You'd think they'd be…similar.

That's who my thoughts slip to now as I run my hands over my breast, then down my stomach and between my legs. I rub small circles over my clit and think of him licking and sucking blood frommytits before spreading my legs wide and eating me on the table for everyone to see.

For his brother to see.

Fuck.

I moan, gripping the grab bar with my other hand as I stroke my wet center. The sound comes out much louder than I anticipated, and, remembering how thin the walls are and how much sound carries in the small space, I stifle my sighs as my orgasm builds.

And then, I look up and notice the detachable showerhead.

Yes.

I stand on my toes, take it down, and place it between my legs, moving until I get it just right. I bite back another moan; the pressure that wasn't great is perfect on my clit. I'm so close to exploding—it doesn't take much after everything I've seen this weekend.

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