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No, you could not stop by. Because there’s another creepy woman in this apartment who’s hiding under the bed and needs to get the fuck out of here!
But Colson Lutz is not a tiny house spider. He’s a six-foot four grown man who wears body armor and carries a gun.
“I just wanted you to know that I’m not some serial killer.”
“I’ll always find you, Brett, whether you want me to or not.”
Hopefully we can bury the hatchet, just not in my head.
“Yeah, I get that a lot. Cutest little hacker you’ll ever meet.”
That’s actually why she named my dog Pony. His full name is Ponyboy.”
“Did she tell you he has a tattoo of a three-headed dog right above his dick?”
She’ll never know the extent of what I do for her. And that’s how it’ll stay, because she shouldn’t have to worry about that kind of bullshit.
Because I’m a fucking gentleman.
“You fucking touch my girl again, I slice off your dick and feed it to you,” I whip my hand away from his throat and swing my arm down, bringing my knife up between his legs, “or I can now if you have problems with impulse control.”
That bitch, hindsight, and her fucking 20/20 vision.
For some reason, when she says this, the crushing weight on my chest lightens ever so slightly, just enough to notice. I like labels, and maybe this is the kind of label I need right now.
“‘he only wants a woman who is free because his dream is to put her in a cage.’”
Because if my girl’s not happy, then I’m not happy. And you and I go way back, so you know what happens when someone makes
The truth is, I hated holding his gun at first, because the last time I held it I learned something both empowering and frightening about myself.
“If he looks at you hard enough, he’ll find out all your secrets.”
My girl and all of her dark impulses belong to me. And I’ll never let him take what’s mine ever again.
Boys and their fragile egos…
“Don’t worry, I told him I already know you’re batshit.”
“Is that why you finally decided to give me the time of day,” Colson tips his chin, “because you’re a glutton for punishment?”
“Oh, by the way,” he taps the doorframe, “that wasn’t salted caramel in your latte,” he winks
“I could just take you on a date—a real date—maybe even one that doesn’t result in PTSD.”
“You’re my drug,” Colson murmurs, “created just for me, that wrecks me but can’t kill me. And I’m your addiction you’ll never be able to shake because I’ll never let you go.
“You still love fighting me, don’t you?”
“God, baby, you’re still so good,” he groans under his breath, “so fucking good…”
“To punish you,” he deadpans, “this time, for breaking your promises.”
“you’ve been a bad, bad girl, Honeybee.”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about the panic and the pain in your eyes, or how good your blood tastes on my tongue.”
“Oh, Honeybee,” his words drip with condescension, “I’m going to be a lot of things to you, but a friend isn’t one of them.”
“Goddamn,” Colson groans as he slides his fingers inside me, slick and aching for release, “you act just as hateful as you did back then, but you’re still so weak for me, and I love it.”
and why my logical brain is locked in mortal combat with my reptilian brain—and the lizard is winning.
“no wonder you’re so saucy.”
“I bet you have more kinks than a garden hose.”
“Is this what I have to do, little Honeybee,” he starts grinding against me, “buy you books and finger you in my car when I make you angry?”
“I have to tell you something, Brett,” his eyes darken and suddenly he’s like a predator sizing up its prey, “I care about you more than you’ll ever know,” then he leans closer, his eyes deep blue and sinister, “but for the rest of the night, I’m going to fuck you like I don’t.”
“Last chance to leave,” he strokes the side of my face, “before I tear your heart out and make it mine.”
“Tell me who else I need to fuck up to take back what’s mine.”
“Jealous girl…” Colson grins, “don’t worry, all that was before I ever laid eyes on you. Since then, I’ve been all yours. But they knew not to ask. They weren’t brats like you.”
“But that’s why you’re here,” his tone softens, “you’re not an accident, Brett. You’re more than enough to sustain me. You try to act so hateful, but it never works because while you’re busy talking shit, your pussy’s so wet for me it hurts.” He tightens the belt again, making my breaths go shallow, “I love the fight you give me, but it’ll always end the same—with you begging for my dick. All of it.” He sweeps his nose back and forth against mine, groaning his last words, “Because you’re my best girl, aren’t you?”
“Do you like the pain I give you?”
“Open your eyes, baby,” his lilting voice brings me back, “you’re not dead yet.”
“Colson,” I breathe into his thick, feathered hair, “you’re not dead, either. You’re real, and you’re alive, and I want to feel you inside me.”
“It was a shame he shattered his knee the next day…”
“Up on your knees, baby,” Colson taps my hip twice, “and stay wherever I put you.”
“You were made for me, sweet girl,”
“If you’re good, I’ll mark you as mine…then I’ll bind your hands, so you won’t run when I start telling scary stories…”
“Am I scaring you, Brett?” he grins as my breaths get shorter, “Keep shaking for me. The more scared you are, the tighter you get.”
“Yes, Honeybee,” Colson brushes his lips against mine, “you met me in your dreams. Except you get what no one else does, you get to keep me even after you wake up.”
“Is that what you like hearing—how obsessed I am with you?” Colson’s tone turns harsh and condescending, “How you made me love you even while you fucked another man?”
