Page 44
Story: Runaways
I watch Tate from across the aisle, waiting at a food truck window for his order.
"I missed you," Silas says. "Have you been happy?"
"No," I say softly. "Not even a little."
He frowns, then presses a finger to my lips. "Stay," he says.
The game is calledObey, so I nod, and he walks toward the pickup window, helping Tate bring the food and drinks back to the table.
"You didn't say you wanted one, but I know you did, so here," Tate says, handing me one of the three lemonades before sitting at my other side.
I don't realize how thirsty I am until I bring the straw to my lips. I drink half of it before coming up for air.
"You're welcome," he says, removing the lid from his lemonade and pouring whiskey from a flask into the cup.
"Hey, Noah," Silas says. "Give me your foot."
He slides his hand down the outside of my thigh, stopping at my calve and laying it across his lap. I hiss when he presses his cold cup of lemonade against my swollen ankle.
"Does that feel better?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"Good," Silas says. "Now, open your mouth."
I hesitate, and he tears off a piece of the deep-fried cake batter and holds it to my lips. "You know the name of the game, Noah."
I open, and he pushes it inside my mouth. "Now, lick your lips. You've got some powdered sugar right…here."
He swipes the left corner of my lips with his thumb before pushing it into my mouth, and I lick it clean.
"God, I forgot how fucking soft she makes you," Tate bemoans. He tears off a bite of his pretzel before lying flat on his back. "I kind of hate it."
Silas shrugs. "Whatever."
"I like you hard. It makes me hard. I like it when you're soft, though, Noah."
Tate runs a finger up my arm, and I shrug him off, moving closer to Silas.
"Hey, don't do that," he says. "Let me touch you."
"You're going to murder me."
"Yeah, but you'll live a lot longer if you make me happy."
He sits up, wrapping an arm around me before pressing his lips to my shoulder, and then trails kisses across my collarbone. Arms locked at my side, I close my eyes and hold my breath, exhaling when he stops, nuzzling his head against my neck. "Did you miss me, baby?"
I shake my head slightly. "No."
"Liar. You look fucking beautiful. I almost lost my mind when I saw you today; you know that? I wanted to bend you over and fuck you in front of all your friends."
"You killed all my friends."
"Hey, that's not true," Tate says. "Silas killed some of your friends, too, and you're still being nice to him."
He stuffs the last of his pretzel in his mouth and then finishes off his lemonade. "You know what? I think we should go on some rides. You want to go on some rides, Noah?"
"No."
"I missed you," Silas says. "Have you been happy?"
"No," I say softly. "Not even a little."
He frowns, then presses a finger to my lips. "Stay," he says.
The game is calledObey, so I nod, and he walks toward the pickup window, helping Tate bring the food and drinks back to the table.
"You didn't say you wanted one, but I know you did, so here," Tate says, handing me one of the three lemonades before sitting at my other side.
I don't realize how thirsty I am until I bring the straw to my lips. I drink half of it before coming up for air.
"You're welcome," he says, removing the lid from his lemonade and pouring whiskey from a flask into the cup.
"Hey, Noah," Silas says. "Give me your foot."
He slides his hand down the outside of my thigh, stopping at my calve and laying it across his lap. I hiss when he presses his cold cup of lemonade against my swollen ankle.
"Does that feel better?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"Good," Silas says. "Now, open your mouth."
I hesitate, and he tears off a piece of the deep-fried cake batter and holds it to my lips. "You know the name of the game, Noah."
I open, and he pushes it inside my mouth. "Now, lick your lips. You've got some powdered sugar right…here."
He swipes the left corner of my lips with his thumb before pushing it into my mouth, and I lick it clean.
"God, I forgot how fucking soft she makes you," Tate bemoans. He tears off a bite of his pretzel before lying flat on his back. "I kind of hate it."
Silas shrugs. "Whatever."
"I like you hard. It makes me hard. I like it when you're soft, though, Noah."
Tate runs a finger up my arm, and I shrug him off, moving closer to Silas.
"Hey, don't do that," he says. "Let me touch you."
"You're going to murder me."
"Yeah, but you'll live a lot longer if you make me happy."
He sits up, wrapping an arm around me before pressing his lips to my shoulder, and then trails kisses across my collarbone. Arms locked at my side, I close my eyes and hold my breath, exhaling when he stops, nuzzling his head against my neck. "Did you miss me, baby?"
I shake my head slightly. "No."
"Liar. You look fucking beautiful. I almost lost my mind when I saw you today; you know that? I wanted to bend you over and fuck you in front of all your friends."
"You killed all my friends."
"Hey, that's not true," Tate says. "Silas killed some of your friends, too, and you're still being nice to him."
He stuffs the last of his pretzel in his mouth and then finishes off his lemonade. "You know what? I think we should go on some rides. You want to go on some rides, Noah?"
"No."
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