Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
He pulled back. “Would you like it better if I was more of a bad guy?” Frustration colored his words.
“Where did that come from?” She looked stricken. “No, of course not. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.”
“Then why do you keep pushing me away?” He kissed her again, still too gently. She didn’t want polite. My Camille wanted the sort of darkness only I could give her.
Link could never be anything other than a moron in a white hat. No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t be able to save Camille from me, because, in the deep recesses of her heart, she craved me. The fair maiden wanted the monster more than she needed the knight.
She shook her head and pushed on his shoulders again. He sat back and pulled her up so she sat next to him. His back stiffened in what I knew to be anger, but he kept his voice too low for me to hear. I smirked as I thought about how blue his balls must have been.
She crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive movement. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He shifted his hips—and his useless boner—away from her. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”
Pussy.
They spoke a little more, then she stood with a resigned air that told me she was leaving for the night. During the few weeks that I’d been watching, I’d been pleasantly surprised each time she refused to sleep with Link. When we’d first met, I’d taken for granted that they were fucking, but I’d been wrong. It was as if Camille knew that she was waiting for me.
He walked her to the door, gave her one final kiss, and then watched her walk away. She would go to her friend Veronica’s apartment. I had it wired right along with everything else. Whenever Camille was in the city, she spent her nights there, so I needed to know what went on.
Link closed the door and leaned against it, then snaked a hand down his pants. He headed toward the living room and opened his laptop. I’d learned he had a particular thing for anime porn. True to form, he opened what seemed to be his all-time favorite wank flick—a big-breasted girl with anime eyes getting gang-banged by several different men. Cartoon bukkake coming right up.
I made a disgusted sound and flicked the screen off before his solo session got into full swing. He was a moron. If I had a girl like Camille, I’d masturbate to her every fucking night. No, actually, if I had a girl like Camille, I’d be eating her pussy like it was a competition and then shoving my cock deep inside her every chance I got.
I popped a Tums.
Link couldn’t close the deal because he wasn’t right for my girl. And so he was destined to spend his nights jerking it to cartoon characters while I fantasized about how perfect Camille would feel on my cock.
9
Camille
“Don’t forget to work on your photosynthesis projects over the break. I want some groundbreaking science on my desk before the Christmas holi—” The bell rang, drowning out my voice, and the class rose in a wave of nervous energy.
My students fell into conversations about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday as they cleared the room. Mint lagged behind, his tie in a messy knot and his pants wrinkled. I’d wanted to talk with him about what I’d learned, but every time I tried to break through to him, he cracked wise or attempted a lukewarm come-on. Always deflecting.
I steeled myself for another attempt and strode up to his desk.
He shook his head and didn’t look at me. “Don’t start today. I can’t deal with it.”
“Mint, please. I only want to help you. You are so bright, and you could have an amazing future ahead of you, but not with the grades you’ve been getting this semester.” I edged closer. “You can talk to me, you know?”
He met my eyes, and for the first time I saw the vulnerable young man beneath his swagger. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
“Because your future is important to me.”
He sank back into his seat and stared up at me. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re relentless?”
“Not lately.” I sat down in the desk opposite him, the wooden seat still warm from its last occupant. “What’s going on with you?”
He sighed, the sound far too heavy for a boy to carry. “I don’t want to go home for Thanksgiving.”
“Why not?”
He glanced to the door, perhaps weighing his opportunity for escape. I stayed silent, not wanting to spook him now that he’d finally opened up.
“My uncle will be there. And my dad. And my mom.” He grabbed a pencil and bounced it on the desk, the eraser making a small thud with each impact.
“And that’s bad because…”