You're My Favorite Murder (Chapter 14)

Chapter 14: 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘉𝘰𝘺

“Fine, let’s talk asshole.” Her annoyance turning me on the slightest bit, slowly dissipating the extreme tension stationed between us like the always unwelcome third wheel.

I lift my lips in a sardonic smirk, watching her bitchy exterior crumble just enough with the micro expression. I can’t help myself as my gaze falls to her lips, seemingly bit out of nerves but I know the truth. Taking a sip of my coffee before officially casting it off to the side. “Careful, if you keep biting your lip like that, I may be forced to do something we both won’t regret."

I see her body harden, fists no doubt clenched tighter around her hidden blade fighting the rising sexual tension. I may hate the bitch’s guts, but I still notice the little things despite myself. “This is going to be a long night” she mutters sinking back into the seat, eyes filled with longing, flitting to the untouched meal every few seconds.

Reaching out to grab a fry, I dip it in the jumbled sauces, “so does that mean you’re going to do as I say?” I ask popping it in my mouth, her eyes capturing each movement, the fire of her hatred burning just a bit hotter. She so should have seen that coming.

Folding her arms over her chest, eyes slitted on me lips forming a scowl she remains silent, digging her gaze into my inked skin, though I remain unharmed.

“What?” I question, biting back a smile, her stomach rumbling in answer.

“These are my fries” she points, sliding the plate closer to her side. Still, I try to reach over but not before she tears the plate completely free of the table, holding it away from my grasp. “I don’t think so” she remarks with a lilting tease.

Pursing my lips I hold my hands up in surrender. “All right fine, your fries no one touches but you. But you still haven’t answered my question.” Too focused on her momentary victory I slide the melted shake over, sipping up at least a third of it before she rips the glass away, straw torn from between my lips. “Still waiting on an answer” I toss out, licking my lips free of decadent chocolate. My hooded gaze catches her staring for a moment before she plays it off like nothing happened.

Clutching the food and shake as close to her body without letting them spill onto her lap she slits her gaze further; eyes nearly disappearing with how tightly they’re closed. Slowly she breaks the trance I hold on her to slurp up some of the shake, gritting out one word around the straw “fine”, taking an untouched fry and dipping it in.

“Good girl” I praise, her throat constricting, struggling to swallow as she attempts to cover up the blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck. “You like being praised as much as you like being degraded little Darkside?”

Teeth grit she forces the fry down. “Shut up” eyes turned down, avoiding my gaze, fist disappearing under the table toying with the blade.

Creeping closer, choosing to exploit the weakness just a tad I whisper darkly, proving the attraction between us despite the hatred. “You still want to fuck me, don’t you?” There’s that lip bite again, “hey, I mean I still stand by my previous statement, you really can’t go wrong with an occasional hate fuck.”

“Fuck off” eyes rolling hard.

“I wonder how much harder your eyes will roll when I’m sunk into that tight little cunt of yours. So deep, sharp black nails clawing at my back as you whisper, ‘deeper’ between gasping moans in my ear.”

Shaking her head, lips pursed she stares down hard at her fries, a swarm of sensual and forbidden thoughts visibly rolling through her mind.

Finally braving a glance, she finds my eyes, leaning just as close, nearly erasing the distance between us entirely. “Hey, Stalker Boy, ask a real question so I can leave. I have more important shit to do than this.”

“What” I laugh “like studying? You know you don’t actually have to attend classes Stazie, not like you’re a real student or anything.”

She leans closer, playing chicken thinking, maybe hoping I’ll break first; boy is she wrong. “For your information dickhead, some of us are actually trying to keep a low profile and not get our asses thrown in jail.”

Deciding to test the limits just a little further I lay my lips right over hers, capturing her gasp at the sudden closeness. “How am I not keeping a low-profile little slut?”

“Well—" Biting her lip, cutting her off, the slightest touch like a jolt of electricity zipping through her body I pull away nonchalant as I catch her fingers trail along the bite from my peripheral. Straightening up, I get real comfortable before laying to the real reason behind our meet up.

“All right” I sit up straighter pulling us out of the tensed fog, “let’s just get down to business. What I want to know is” I hold up a finger for each question, “where you put the head, do you remember her name and the reason you felt the need to kill her in the first place. Really curious about that one” I mutter to myself.

“Is that all” she groans.

“Problem?” I grit out seeing as it’s taking every ounce of tattooed muscle I possess to keep my composure. Having her this close, the sassy, brat attitude along with a sizzling air of sexual tension, I’m hardly hanging on as it is. Gritting my teeth I hold some semblance of control watching her every irritated move.

Staring to the ceiling, avoiding eye contact seeing as we both seem to forget the hate when our looks collide, she concedes only answering the first of my trio of inquiries the tension between us, crackling hotter with increased tension. “In order, I did nothing with the head, I forget her name and my reasons don’t matter nor are they any of your concern.” The bite in her tone gets me hard, or rather harder seeing as I’ve supported a raging boner for most of this little quarrel of ours. Casually adjusting myself below the table I stare her down, eyes catching each movement drinking up the effect I have on her. Her lips may be sealed but her eyes speak truth, body rigid yet arching towards my toxic touch. She’s the sensuous poison I refuse to part with even if drowning in her toxicity will be my demise.

Forcing an exhale through my nose I grind my teeth together, the fangs digging their way into my inner bottom lip. “I don’t care for the attitude Stazie” I bite back just as hard, beginning to lose patience with myself.

“Whatever. I told you what I know. Now if we’re done here, I’ll happily be on my way.”

Just as she pushes off the table to leave, I reach out gripping her wrist. Voice low to a whisper, my eyes doing most of the talking I growl, “sit your ass back down.” Letting out a hollow laugh she tries to pull free, but I don’t move. Glancing around she finds the place practically empty, the older couple having left a good ten minutes prior, Marge busy in the girl’s bathroom cleaning, not a soul to help poor Stazie. My lips curl in a smirk, something about feeling the fear run through her body the biggest turn on yet.

Lips downturned in a frown, flitting her gaze back and forth from the vice grip I have on her to my dangerous stare she slowly sits back into the seat, swiftly yanking her wrist free, rubbing at the marks my jewelry made along her smooth skin. “Asshole” she mumbles loud enough for me to hear. I smile. “Don’t fucking touch me” she snaps, tugging her forgotten meal back in front of her place, the remnants of the milkshake chocolate soup in a glass.

“I’ll do and touch whatever I fucking well please Staz” I threaten, watching her big brown eyes get bigger with the implications laid out.

“I can’t remember her name, not sure what you want me to do about that” she says around a big bite of cold meat. But the way she’s chowing down, clearly temperature isn’t a deal breaker when it comes to this girl’s ravenous appetite.

“Think harder” I say with a snarl, all my focus on her the heated force of my gaze causing her to tremble.

Slouched in the seat, slurping up her chocolate soup, lips wrapped tightly around the blue crazy straw, I feel myself growing hard again. A vivid image of her, bare, on her knees, staring up, with me in her mouth, choking around the girth, as I thrust deeper, her throat taking all of me in. Slamming my fist down on the table I let out a groan, thinking of broccoli and sewage plants to deflate my painfully hard erection. Then she looks at me with those eyes and that image reappears. For fucks sake, this god damn woman.

“What’s with you” she asks with an unappealing chortle.

“Not your fucking concern” I bark sitting back, tense and aggravated. Digging in my leather jacket pocket, I tug out my smokes and a generic, something you pick up at any gas station, lighter, hardly muttering “I need a smoke” shoving myself out of the booth.

“When did this happen” she asks feigning interest, a twinge of hurt in her tone behind the forced-out scoff of indifference.

Leaning down, my lips hovering at the shell of her ear I growl under my breath “when a certain irritating cunt fucked me over” before storming out the door, jogging down the walkway. I’m so pissed at the range of emotions I shouldn’t even be having; her presence a thrown wrench in my life, fucking up the gears, leaving me with a broken mess.

Tapping the cigarette on the carton I ignite the flame, bring it close, my hands protection against the wind chill. Drawing in a breath, the heated smoke filling my lungs I let out a billow of Tabacco dissipating into the night, it hits but I’m still pissed off.