Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He’s the one I go to when memories of that night become too much.
He knows. He listens.
One problem. Nate isn’t the one I want to see right now.
I retrieve my phone in a last-ditch attempt and pause when I see a text from Naomi.
The pressure that’s been constricting my chest all night long slowly lifts.
She texted first.
It’s a picture. A sketch, to be more precise.
I’ve been taunting her to show me her sketchpad, but she always hid it. Of course, I saw it once when she went to the restroom. I was surprised by the images. She’s a hidden gem, who has a natural talent at drawing.
Sure, her technique needs work, but the gift is definitely there.
Stealing peeks at her sketches behind her back is different from how she’s willingly showing me one now.
The sketch is of a man wearing a dark hoodie and standing in the middle of a room—traditional Japanese, judging from the background texture. His face is shadowed and a bloodied knife dangles from his hand.
Naomi: Laugh at it and I will kill you.
I can’t help the smile that lifts my lips. Her tough love persona is so fucking alluring, I want to sink my teeth into her flesh and taste it up close and personal.
All these thoughts of violence that erupt at the thought of touching her are probably wrong, but I couldn’t fight them even if I wanted to.
Whenever she invades my mind—uninvited—all I can imagine is throwing her to the ground, grabbing her by throat, and taking her roughly and without any boundaries.
Those scenarios have been reoccurring to the point that my conscious bled into my subconscious and I started having the wildest dreams about them.
To me, sex has always been associated with violence, but with Naomi, they’re one and the same.
Sex is another word for violence.
Darkness is another word for freedom.
Leaning against my car, I type.
Sebastian: Tsundere.
Her text is immediate.
Naomi: Really? That’s your only reply?
Sebastian: What do you want me to say?
Naomi: I don’t know. Your opinion, maybe?
I can almost imagine the blush creeping up her delicate throat and to her cheeks.
And because I love keeping her on the edge, I wait for a full minute, watching the dots appearing and disappearing as if she’s writing and erasing what I assume are curses.
Finally, she sends a text.
Naomi: You’re a fucking asshole.
Sebastian: Because I’m keeping my opinion to myself?
Naomi: Because you always ask me to show you and when I do, you have nothing to say about it, you Machiavellian assholish jerk with the star image megalomania and rich boy issues.
I laugh out loud, rereading her choice words for me. Only Naomi would make me laugh by calling me names.
Sebastian: Nice to know what you think of me. You seem to have a lot on your chest, so let it all out.
Naomi: I also think you have narcissistic issues that your grandparents should find a shrink for. But hey, maybe it runs in the family and you inherited the right genes to be the next annoying politician.
Sebastian: Next annoying politician, huh? Not a bad idea since we get the best pussy.
Naomi: Have fucking fun. Peace.
Naomi: Actually, no peace for you.
Sebastian: You don’t want to hear my opinion about the sketch?
Naomi: You can take that and shove it up your ass.
Sebastian: How about I shove it up YOUR ass?
Naomi: Maybe when you’re the last dick available.
Sebastian: Last dick available to YOU? I can make that happen. And you won’t only take me up the ass and cunt, but anywhere I want.
Naomi sees the message, but doesn’t reply. That’s what she does when she’s speechless or embarrassed. She just retreats into her silent cocoon, which usually means she’s aroused in one way or another.
All the talk about her ass and fucking has turned me painfully hard. My dick thickens against my jeans and I grunt as I readjust it.
If I don’t do something about it, I’ll spend the entire night in pure fucking torture.
I waited for the change, for her to reach out, and it happened. Maybe it’s time to take this whole thing to the next level.
Though Naomi might not like the change of events.
16
Naomi
“I’ll be fine, Mom.” I balance the phone on my shoulder as I grab a soda with one hand and the remote with the other.
“Lock the balcony doors and make sure the alarm is activated.”
“I will.”
“The windows, too, Nao. You always forget about them.”
“I won’t forget.”
Coughing comes from her end and it turns into a fit before she clears her throat. I want to tell her to stop smoking, that it’s bad for her health, but I’m horrible at showing concern. It’d appear as if I were picking a fight and trying to get on her nerves. I guess I take after her in that department. Because while I love my mom, I don’t tell her that. She doesn’t say it either. Declarations of affection have been rare between us since that red night that turned my life into a tragedy waiting to happen.