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Everything seemed to grow quiet for a second, then a gust of wind ripped across the front of the building.
His full name was Constantine Masters. It just had an evil ring to it, like a crazy megalomaniac.
its owner had appeared. It was the gym teacher.
Dulcie was shocked to hear her own voice. She'd just blurted it out,
Travers. I remember your brother. You a dope head like him? A bunch of good-for-nothings.” Dulcie was used to people talking about her half-brother.
as his lips pressed against her ear, she could've sworn the temperature dropped. “Because I thought it would be fun.”
Um ok sir who said u could get this close
He was obsessed with her.
No, Con did what Con was expected to do – he dated cheerleaders, he hung out with jocks, and he went to awesome keggers. He had lots of sex and played a lot of beer pong.
Like a loser
A punk kid who had long been giving Con shit. Beyond a punk, the guy was a bully and also had a reputation for getting aggressive with girls at parties.
Atleast he had good reasons
He would've bet money that she was a virgin.
Wondered if she'd been waiting for him.
Sick
He stared at her. He could tell it made her uncomfortable.
Con did not want to be in school at that moment. He wanted to grab her by the arm and drag her out of the building. Take her into the woods and tear her apart.
“There's a difference between being an asshole, and being a monster. One is much better at hiding his character.”
she just launched her hand at his face, raking her nails down the side of his cheek. I want to see his blood.
Huh.
He needed to devour something, it was clear, and she was fresh meat. She wanted to split open for him and lay at his feet.
“I know,” he growled back.
The only time he felt real was when he was doing something wrong.
Like setting Chuck's car on fire.
Or when he'd kisse...
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It was a human sacrifice, and she was offering herself to your altar.
When she had been home, she'd always turned a blind eye to the hitting and shouting.
Con was brave enough, though. He was a different kind of beast. Just burn it all.
I wonder what Dulcie tastes like. I wonder if she'd let me bite hard enough to find out.
WhaaAaaaattt
Dulcie felt like she was being strangled. It
Con had ruined something great. Taken something away from her.
Damn girl u obsessing
She'd never felt like he was her brother, and obviously, he felt the same way.
He was so comfortable, like an old sweater. A comfy blanket. Her grandma's house.
that’s crazy
Gravity quadrupled for a moment and Dulcie felt like she was going to collapse.
“It's a good picture, but if you wanted it to be great, you'd make her cry.”
Sick
He couldn't tell where he was when he was with her. Was he bad for her? Or was she bad for him?
Dulcie could ruin his plans, could destroy his carefully
built facade.
She wanted someone to take a bite out of her. She wanted someone to bleed for her.
Dulcie knew he wasn't asking about the homeless man.
Black spots danced in front of her eyes, yet still they stared at each other. Recognizing each other, maybe for the first time ever.
She wanted to paint him. Wanted to immortalize him.
she tasted his blood in her mouth, but neither of them cared. She wanted his pain to mix with her pain.
A tear streamed down her cheek, but before it could tip over the side of her jaw, his tongue was sweeping it up.
Sixk fuxkersssss
“What, killed a man?” “No. I can't believe we just fucked in your truck.”
she washed away the blood from the rails as best she could, tossing bits of skull into a plastic bag as she cleaned.
“Stupid boy, I was wrecked long before you showed up.”
She was still sore and he was still too big, but she loved the pain.
To want to rip him open and crawl inside him and never see the light of day again.
But his opinion didn't matter. Because she hadn't seen or spoken to him in almost three years.
Um what.
She lured men away, she fucked their brains out, and then she robbed them blind.
She had no problem with telling their wives or girlfriends or partners exactly what they'd been doing with her.
“Such a sick fuck, Con. You're such a sick and twisted fuck,”
They were a match and jar of gasoline. Who wanted to waste time with dating when there were explosions to be had?
