Streams and Schemes

by Rebecca Kinkade

“Don’t touch her. If you put your hands on her one more time, I’ll rip them off and then sue you for getting blood on my suit. Am I fucking clear?”

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there’s a slight pinch in his brow. It’s like he doesn’t know how to speak to me—which is funny because I don’t even know how to breathe around him.

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Fake boyfriend. So fake. Faker than my orgasms when I had to stream while I had strep throat.

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He seems so intimidating, but he’s an oddball. Half of what he says to me sounds like the edible just hit.”

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This time, Valeria laughs out loud before she can stop herself. She quickly clasps her hand over her mouth, trying halfheartedly to hide it from me, but it’s unmistakable. Truthfully, I’ve never been prouder of myself—except for the time I made her come on my dick.

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The cursor blinks…or was it—was that a wink? Does this contract want me to close my laptop and enjoy myself on a Saturday night for once?

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His mien is the epitome of smugness. “You think of me when you come, Valeria.” “Do not.” I do. “You’re delusional.” He’s not. “Banter is cute, but don’t bother, baby,”

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Good boy. There’s something about a woman five years younger than me calling me a good boy that has me torn between finding enough rope to wrangle the moon for her or using that same rope to bind her and prove I’m neither good nor a boy.

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‘Seven Nation Army’ by the White Stripes

Song

Best I can do is live beneath her skin—in her heart and on her mind. Maybe if I take up enough space there, I can block out some of the pain.

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