Page 150 of Bliss & Her Idols

I wave my hands, trying to hush Cricket. But it’s too late.

Torin tries not to laugh. “You teased me about liking a mirror above this bed, but you touched yourself, while staring up at apaintingof Jin…?”

My cheeks heat. “Why did you have to imagine me…?”

“Writhing in your heat, while you imagined that your fake Jin was fucking into your tight pussy? Begging him,please Jin, harder…?” Torin’s voice becomes low and breathy.

“Hey, I don’t sound like that.”

“Is this when you confess that you’re secretly not a journalist? That you’re a stalker? Wait, are you actually a serial killer with a basement filled with life-size Jin dolls?”

If only he knew my real secrets.

Cricket rocks on his heels. “It’s like that filmKing of Comedy. Perhaps, we should simply kidnap Jin.”

“It’s more like the Omega actor, Jex’s, famous film,Omega Taken,” I say. “Everybody thinks that Jex is being trafficked but actually, it’s a rescue attempt to get him away from his abusive mob family.”

“Oh, I rated that nine out of ten. Jex is an inspiration as an Omega actor,” Cricket chirps.

“Wow, love between geeks. I’m moved.” Torin glances between us. “Should I write a song about you two little darlings?”

I glare at Torin, but to my surprise, Cricket turns to Torin.

“Would you?” He asks, enthusiastically.

I arch my brow at Torin.

That’s what happens when sarcasm fails.

Torin clears his throat. “What shall I call it? “Geek?” Radiohead’s “Creep” was pretty successful.”

Torin begins to sing “Creep”, with a sly smile and a rumbling, seductive voice that makes my skin tingle, replacing the lyrics with ‘geek’.

“If you’re trying to serenade us,” I point my bare toe at Torin, sprawling back on the couch, “that’s a fail, Mr. Anti-Romance.”

“If you’re trying to flash your pussy at me,” Torin’s voice is silky, “that’s a pass with flying colors, Ms. Sexy.”

I deliberately cross my legs…slowly.

Both Torin and Cricket are watching me, spellbound.

Cricket is panting.

Witness the Sharon Stone approach to taming your pack.

Torin tries to distract himself by doing up his bow tie with jerky motions.

His blue eyes are frosty. “Don’t think that I’m not aware of your tricks, a chroi.”

“I wish that I knewyourtricks.” I study Torin, thoughtfully.

“Don’t you like a man of mystery?” Torin strolls to the armchair, snagging Cricket around the waist to pull him onto his lap sideways.

Sitting on his lap, it’s possible to see just how tiny Cricket is. Cricket’s legs are slung over Torin’s thighs.

Torin traces circles over the Cricket’s bare right ankle. His other palm lies flat and heavy on Cricket’s knee.

Torin pushes the bottom of Cricket’s trouser up to curl his forefinger and thumb around his ankle. “You’re so small.”

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