Page 76 of Livewire Witch

I’ve seen the soft way the two of them look at this woman—even though, for the life of me, I cannot remember her name. Or what she looks like.

Which makes me feel even more of an ass than when I wake up every morning.

Imusthave met her before. We must have had at least one conversation, since I’m sure they’re both hanging around with her often enough.

But I can’t. And it’s pissing me off that I can’t seem to get certain things to stick in my head at the moment. It feels rude. Disrespectful.

I’m also jealous as hell that they have someone to go all gooey eyed over and I’m, well...

Lonely.

I yank on some clothes after my shower and make my way to the kitchen. Greeted with a full house and the smell of coffee and frying bacon, I head straight to fill the kettle for tea for myself.

I’m in a funk, feeling vaguely hungover, and I don’t seem to be the only one. Z’s nowhere to be found, probably either in bed or at the gym. And Ember, Rook and Hanna are all lolling around on the sofa that’s not big enough for the three of them. They’re like a pile of damn puppies, looking helpless as Ro feeds them a pile of bacon sandwiches with a smirk on his face.

There’s also a woman here whose name I don’t know, sitting on a cushion by the window. She’s still dressed in a pair of pajamas and an oversized hoodie that swamps her slight frame. When she gives me a small smile and wave in greeting, I nod back. My dick twitches slightly, and I have the awkwardness of a horny dream flashback in front of a roomful of people.

My dream girl’s creamy thighs straddling my face as I eat her out like she’s a decadent dessert.

Her hands wrapped around my cock, already leaking pre-cum.

Fuck. I need to pull myself together or I’m going to embarrass myself. Nothing like walking around with your cock fully hard, for absolutely no reason at all, to make people feel at home.

I pour my tea and grab the milk, working on auto-pilot as I grab another cup and fill it with fresh coffee. Adding a dash of milk to my cup and a bunch to the coffee until it’s a monstrosity, I then add sugar to both and carry them over to the coffee table.

Thankfully, my dick has softened and I’m able to plop down onto the floor by the woman, placing both cups on the table.

“Is that for me?” she asks, cocking her head to one side in a way that, for some reason, makes my stomach ache.

“I—”

I don’t know. Is it?

“I’m not sure how you take it, but—”

She picks up the cup and takes a long sip, letting out a little sound that has my cock instantly springing to attention again. “It’s perfect. Just how I like it.”

I know.

... I think.

But that’s not right. We’ve not met before, so how could I know how she takes her coffee?

I shake the weird sensation off and drink my tea.

We’re a sorry bunch, lounging around in Z’s apartment until midmorning. It’s a Saturday and normally I’d be up early to do some work while the rest of the world is sleeping. But today, I can’t muster the energy.

I’m not the only one.

“Last night was a strange one,” I mumble eventually to no one in particular. I know we debriefed after we got back, but it feels like we should talk more. Debrief. Have a group therapy session. Something.

We should at least try to get a better understanding of what happened and how we were all collectively roofied.

Going to the club was supposed to get us closer to finding Simpson, or at least to understanding more about the vamps and what their next steps are.

Instead, it kind of feels like we were all violated.

I’m running through the events in my head once again, trying to formulate the words so that we can discuss things.

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