“I want you to fuck me,” she whispered, and Milo said nothing.
There was no need to as, within moments, he’d turned and flipped them over so that Camille lay under him with both wrists secured firmly over her head in one of his hands, his body a familiar weight on top of hers.
Nico hated travelling by air whenever planes were involved and always had, as he found them stifling, which was absurd as he evidently never had the same problems with helicopters. He suspected his dislike had less to do with the amount of room involved, but rather the proximity of an illusion of freedom both afforded him in either case.Still he had to admit that they were better than elevators, public bathroom sta
Every city had face you could point at as soon as you arrived, and if you lived in one for long enough you would become familiar with its many wrinkles, slopes, and curves.It was true that Nico had been to a lot of cities, since travelling (regardless of his personal qualms) came as a part of his job description. Still, he could only lay claim to intimate knowledge of two, which were Milan and Boston: The first bec
Camille inhaled sharply as she moved in her sleep to stretch out her abused muscles, and all at once she was pulled out of unconsciousness and into a state of artificially heightened alertness that allowed her to take in the room as soon as she opened her eyes, identifying things as soon as they registered.It was still dark outside, and a quick glance at the digital clock by Milo’s side of the bed informed her that it was four in the morning. She’d been asleep for less than three hours, and at this other details began to trickle in as a rather light-headed sense of well-bei
The deserted sidewalks she’d jogged on only that morning were now packed with pedestrians, corporate types and students on their way to another day of drudgery, depending on what their faces, pinched or otherwise indicated. As Camille joined the masses, becoming just another faceless stranger in the crush of bodies, she pondered on a Machiavelli quote she sometimes turned to when she did not want to think about work, or family, or anything really.
Itwasthe woman from the café, the same one who’d spilt her hot coffee on him when he went after her, Nico admitted finally to himself as he settled into the settee, repositioning himself until he was comfortable before pulling the laptop off the coffee table and onto his thigh; a younger, more naïve-looking version of her perhaps, but her alright.The same big blue eyes in a wickedly magnificent
He noticed the self-satisfied grin she wore as soon as her face appeared on his MacBook screen; and later he would think of how that should’ve clued him in.“Hey Ari—”
From somewhere in the house Luciana started to cry and Aria looked stunned, face devoid of anything even as her wide eyes took him in disbelievingly.“You’re joking.”
Resplendently beautiful in the way only wild things are, with hair so red it looked like it must’ve been dyed even as it was lightened by age, Solange Delacourt could be charming when she wanted to be.An astute manipulator, she fell under that one percent of the population seemingly born with an inherent recognition of the fact that if you did not learn to bend, you would break. One had to be adaptable if they want