Page 41 of Ecstasy
She wiggles in my arms, picking her head up off my shoulder and cupping my face with her hands. I stop walking toward the door as she stares at me. Her pupils are wide, obscuring most of the blue-green of her irises, but she focuses on my eyes, then presses a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.
Her lips are so soft, plump, and heart shaped.
And she smells damn good, like coffee and flowers.
“You are so beautiful,” she tells me, still holding my face.
Despite myself, despite knowing she’s all fucked up, despite the eerie way her eyes look, I can’t help my smile.
“So are you, princess,” I tell her.
She lays her head back on my shoulder and I carry her out of the door.
12
Eli
When she comes downat just after three in the morning on Saturday, she doesn’t know I’m sitting at the dining room table, just off from the kitchen with a perfect view of the fridge. A perfect view of her ass, too, the bottom half of it visible beneath the oversized white t-shirt she’s wearing. One I know doesn’t belong to her.
Obviously, she didn’t tell Alex I came over, or he would’ve asked me about it.
What a sneaky little bitch.
Her white hair is wavy and messy down her back, and when she opens the fridge, the soft light illuminates her pale, tired face. She yawns, covering her hand with her mouth as she stares into the fridge for a long moment, one hand on the door, propping it open.
I take in the shape of her firm calves, her bare feet. She has pink, chipped polish on her toes. Her pebbled nipples are barely visible beneath Alex’s shirt that’s dwarfing her. Those heart shaped lips, and that pale, slender neck.
I steal another look at the bottom curve of her ass, wondering if right now, Alex’s cum is dripping down her inner thigh.
I shift quietly in my seat at the table, the lights off in the dining room. No one around to see me as I adjust my dick, bite my lip.
Alex is a fucking idiot, letting her out like this, after what happened to Rihanna. In a few hours, I suppose I’ll have to see Rihanna pumped full of embalming fluid at the funeral, if I go. Maybe that’ll be a good reminder to Alex to be more careful.
Maybe I can give him a reminder sooner.
Zara keeps staring into the fridge with a vacant expression on her face.
I run my palms down my thighs as I watch her until I can’t just watch anymore. I stand to my feet, letting my chair legs scrape against the wooden floor.
She turns her head, but otherwise doesn’t move.
Even her expression doesn’t change. She stares into the dark and I don’t know if she sees me or not, but I feel a little unsettled with the way she’s looking at me. Like she can see all of my secrets. I guess, more than anyone else, she can.
Because she’s fucked up, too.
I take a step, the wooden floor cold on my bare feet.
I slide my hands into the pockets of my sweats, the only thing I’m wearing.
She still doesn’t move.
“Zara?” I whisper her name, not wanting to wake Alex up. He’ll ruin this for me, and I’m sure he already got his anyway. Now it’s my turn to finish what he didn’t let me. And if she’s full of his cum, even better.
She tilts her head, a lock of white-blonde hair hanging over one of her eyes, but she doesn’t say a word. Her expression is vacant, and as I step closer, until I’m right beside the fridge door and I can see that her pupils are blown, I realize she’s not staring at me.
She’s staring through me.
I flick my gaze to the sliding glass door beyond her. The lit pool. The calm surface of the water. I think of Rihanna’s body beneath the surface. Zara staring out at her, her hand pressed against the glass.
