Page 16 of Lamb

“Surprise—” I grunted the word, because before I’d finished speaking, Marisela had landed a shoed foot between my legs. A direct hit to my balls that left me stumbling as she shoved me back against that same chair I just vacated in the corner. It was still warm.

She waswarmeras she leveled a palm on each of the armrests, lowered her head to mine, and hissed, “I fucking hate surprises.”

“Dually noted,” I sputtered out as I waited for the searing, white-hot pain spreading across my thighs and lower abdomen to dissipate.

Maybe she knew her anatomy better than I thought?

Marisela eyed me for a minute, indecision pursing her lips, before she pushed back and crossed the room again. She was all twisted up about something and it had to dowith more than the masked stranger she found hiding out in her bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” I didn’t mind when she was angry. I liked it. I liked coaxing out all the negative emotions she wanted to keep bottled up. I liked her raw and uninhibited. What I didn’t like was the worry creasing her brow.

“What are you my therapist now?” she countered.

“You want to play doctor, Marisela?” I leaned back in the chair and steepled my hands. “Because I am more than qualified.”

She stared at me for another long moment. Studied me. “You mean that literally, don’t you?”

I shrugged, not bothering to answer. Because, for some reason, itdidbother me to lie to her.

“Do I know you?” she tried again. “Who are you?”

“I’m whomever you want me to be,” I replied.

“Can you be me?” Her voice cracked in a way that had me cracking along with it. “Because I’d really like to not be me right now.”

I pushed up from the chair and took the two long strides that had us standing toe to toe again. Cupping her jaw and forcing her to look up at me. I recognized the desperation I saw there. The brokenness that wouldn’t break. Swirling in the depths of her waterless eyes. Even as she refused to cry. Because crying left you vulnerable.

“No, I can’t be you. No one can be you, little lamb. But I can make you forget who you are for a bit. So I can forget who I am too.”

“And who are you?” she repeated.

“Yours. I’m yours, Marisela. That’s all that matters,” I told her, right before I switched off the light again. Pulling my mask off my head and tossing it aside. Her knees buckled the first time I kissed her, and we toppled onto the bed as she tugged me forward. Her hands clawing at my back just like I knew they would.

If she could feel the fresh gashes under my shirt, it didn’t seem to stop her, just entice her to leave some more of her own.

22

ADRIAN

Ididn’t know what it was. It certainlywasn’tfor a lack of willingness. From me or from the girl squirming beneath me. But I couldn’t bring myself to fuck her. Maybe it was the delayed gratification I was looking for. The knowledge of how much better it would be, the longer I put it off. Maybe some part of me knew crossing that line would either end this obsession or increase it tenfold. Or maybe I was just too young and stupid to know what was good for me. Because this girl, she was better than good. She was fan-fucking-tastic.

She was also the best worst thing to ever happen to either of us.

I grabbed her wrists in one hand, stretching them high above her head as I slowly trailed my mouth from the skin just under her ear, down the curve of her neck and over the rise and fall of two perfectly-pert nipples. Closing my teeth around one through the fabric of her dress and tugging. Justenough to induce a mix of pleasure and pain. Then I continued gliding my hot breath over her torso, her lower abdomen, stopping at the apex of her thighs. Dropping my grip on her arms to yank her legs apart.

I didn’t have to even touch her to know how wet she was for me. The spot darkening her underwear—the one I could smell more than I could see—was all the confirmation I needed. It was also a barrier I didn’t want. I gripped the thin material at the sides, wrenched it down and tossed it aside until the only thing separating me from the best pussy I’ve ever tasted was the air between us. Air that carried her scent straight to my nostrils and had me feeling feral.

I reached a hand into my pocket, fishing around until I found the two tabs I’d shoved in there when I’d decided Marisela was the distraction I wanted to lose myself in for the next few hours. I placed both on my tongue, pausing so that the saliva had a moment to start breaking down the outer composition, and then I lowered my head and took my first lick.

Tonight we were both gonna be jumping down that sensory rabbit hole.

I could feel her stiffen beneath my grip, likely startled by the tingling sensation that accompanied my tongue this time around. But a couple more quick flicks had her head falling back and her muscles relaxing.

And I had to admit, a few minutes in and mine were doing the same.A few minutes inand my movements became more sloppy and less refined. More need-drivenand less controlled. A few minutes in and all the external stimuli seeped inside, like an extension of myself and her. And nothing and everything.

This wasn’t my first time experimenting with the drug. I wasn’t an avid user either. It was just the best way to understand the effects it had on the body. Better than any medical journal or outsourced accounting. I was both doctor and patient until I was ready to have someone else strapped to my table.

That chill returned to the base of my spine, running up and down and spreading out so that I was somehow hot and cold, fizzy and smooth, as I forgot who I was for a moment. Like I promised I would.

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