Page 117 of King of Hollywood
“I did help.”
“I know…” Felix sounded guilty again. “You wanted all my secrets…right?”
“Yes.” That was a no-brainer.
“This is embarrassing. Maybe a little…creepy?”
“Tell me.” His spine was silky soft when I crept my hand beneath his shirt and began to rub it.
“I killed him…because I got distracted.”
“Distracted…” I waited, well aware that there was more to this.
“Thinking about you?” Felix shivered. “About what you’d do if I were to drink from you—” I shivered, the thought of feeding him making my skin buzz. “About what you’d do if you saw us. Maybe you’d get jealous, or angry—maybe you’d toss him aside and offer me your throat.”
I never would’ve done any of that. “That’s not like me at all.”
“I know,” Felix laughed.
“Or…I mean…” My own cheeks felt hot now. “It wasn’t like me. Then.”
“Oh?” There was a lot laced in that one simple word.
“Oh,” I murmured, burying my face in his soft lemony hair. “So, you were distracted…”
“You were home.” Felix squeezed me tighter, his heels digging into the back of my thighs. “And you smelled so good. And I…couldn’t control myself.”
Oh fuck.
God.
That was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
“You killed him because you wanted me.” My dick was so hard I was half-tempted to push Felix into the nearest tree and shove it inside him. I wasn’t going to. Because that was rude. Or at least, I thought I wasn’t going to.
Until he made this soft, devastating, needy little sound and I thought, fuck it.
Boyfriends fuck in the woods, don’t they?
Bugs and dirt be damned.
The stars watched on as I fought my way through Felix’s rather lovely suit. They dangled above, full of promise as I turned him into the tree, slicked myself up with the packet of lube I always kept on my person, and shoved inside him.
Steady, steady, steady.
I fucked him.
Fucked him till he whined and scratched at the bark, tearing into it as though it was brittle as paper, his body squeezing me as I rutted like a beast in heat.
It wasn’t until the sky began to streak through with peachy pinks, that Felix and I finally returned home.
Home to the cul-de-sac where two predators had unknowingly purchased houses right across the street from each other.
Across the street from the small but clean house with the picket fence, up the broken sidewalk that was once littered with weeds.
Up the rickety porch steps, and into a house that was more befitting of Dracula than a man who unironically wore pastels. A man who wore his heart on his sleeve etched in unpracticed, loopy embroidery. A man who was magic, even before I knew what kind of creature he was.
When we fell into our bed beside each other—after showering, obviously—I counted my lucky stars.
