prefer my death threats to have a little more…flair.
But yeah, the guys are being a little overprotective with Katrina away.
Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m pretty sure Van broke into the house a few hours earlier and installed cameras.
I turn towards one of the cameras, practically invisible where it’s positioned inside of a hanging plant, and wave cheekily. The second Katrina turns towards me, I nonchalantly lower my hand to my pink mohawk, as if that was my intent all along.
Because apparently, stalking girls through cameras is “weird” and “creepy.”
Obviously, they haven’t been the ones doing the stalking. It’s quite invigorating, if I’m being completely honest. A real thrill.
As Zolroth disappears into the crowd towards the kitchen, I finally take the opportunity to survey the home I find myself in.
The exterior was simple, a two-story farmhouse. Immediately to the left of the entryway is the living room, where the couches have been pushed to the side to make room for a misshapen dance floor. The kitchen is visible through an archway, with a dining room sitting adjacent. I count exactly two hundred and twenty-three teenagers present. Oh wait…two hundred and twenty-five. Two of them were bumping wieners together in the closet. Or is it hot dogs? Wiggle worms? What’s the term for “cocks” these days?
I drape myself around Katrina, rocking us from side to side, as the music changes to an upbeat party song.
“Do you wanna dance, my cherry?” I whisper enticingly in her ear, biting down on her sensitive lobe. When goosebumps travel across her neck, I just barely conceal my smirk of satisfaction. I love knowing I can affect her so much.
Without waiting for her to respond, I take her hand and drag her into the throng of writhing bodies. A few girls glance at me hungrily, but I simply bare my teeth at them as I drop my hands to Katrina’s waist. They can fuck themselves straight off, thank you very much.
I remain vigilant as I survey the room for any threats as we begin to slow dance in the middle of the living room, ignoring the bodies thrashing and dry-humping each other beside us.
“Akor…” Katrina’s soft voice has me lowering my gaze down to hers.
“Yes, sweet cherry pie?”
“Why are we slow dancing?” she whispers, casting a glance in both directions at the gnats who stare at us.
I smile darkly at her, lifting her hand in the air to give her a twirl before pulling her tight against my chest. Her breath hitches, red splotches appearing on her cheeks, and I feel myself fall even more in love with her, if that’s even possible.
I swear she makes me craz—
Wait. I’m already crazy.
More crazy?
That sounds about right. I swear that girl makes me even more crazy than I already am.
Katrina gasps suddenly, and I peel my eyes from hers to see that Zolroth has returned, his muscular body pressed against her back. I smirk at him wickedly over her shoulder and waggle my eyebrows suggestively.
It’s totally bro code for, let’s take this party upstairs and fuck our Center until she sees stars. And then, because I’m a sadistic jackass, I’ll mail Raz her soaking wet panties. Since the mail system sucks, they probably won’t arrive for a few days, but I can just see the look on his face when—
Katrina moans again as her hands extend upwards to twine around the back of Zolroth’s neck. I’m pretty sure she’s not even aware she’s doing it. Everything inside of her is demanding to get even closer to her mates.
This new position pushes up her breasts, and I lower my gaze to her nipples I can see poking through her shirt. Did my little cherry forgo a bra today? Fuck, that thought makes me so incredibly hard…and then I turn murderous when I think about any of these other assholes seeing her pretty pink nipples, even with her shirt obscuring them. I’m a possessive asshole, and no one outside of my murder is allowed to see, touch, or even speak to Katrina. Especially if said person has a rocket launcher (or is it a dangling ding-dong?).
Note to self—look up how the “cool kids” refer to a cock.
I move my body forward so we’re effectively caging Katrina between us. My mind conjures up other thoughts, dirtier thoughts, and my cock becomes so incredibly hard, I’m afraid I might actually die.
When I close my eyes, I can envision Katrina lying between the two of us as my cock pounds in and