Page 28 of Bite Me
“Holy shit,” he breathed. I was about to echo the sentiment when he continued. “We cracked the fucking mirror. Isn’t that seven years of bad luck?”
I checked, and he was right. A spiderweb of cracks spread from either edge of the frame where he’d gripped it. I smirked. “You broke it, so I guess it’s your bad luck.”
He shot me a glare as I eased back and gave us both some room to shake out our limbs and return to a human state after fucking like rabid animals. “What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, you fucker.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled out of me and, as he turned to face me fully, I grabbed him by the chin and guided his mouth to mine, kissing him soundly before pulling back. “How about we share custody? I take four years and you take three?”
He pretended to weigh the options, then nodded. “Works for me. You get the extra year since it’s your own damn fault.”
I chuckled, then looked around for something to clean ourselves with. “Not sure that superstitious bullshit is true, though. Hell, we’re already lucky it didn’t crack where I was rubbing your dick against it.”
We both cringed at that, imagining a very different—and much more painful—mess.
I spied a pile of bright red fabric nearby and scooped it up, unraveling it and finding an end to mop over myself before extending it to Nate.
He grabbed it, held it up, then wheezed with laughter. “Dude. Do you know what this is?”
I examined the fabric and came up empty. “A hideously-colored bedsheet?”
“No.” He cackled with amusement. “It’s bunting for Parents’ Weekend.”
For some reason, that struck us as the most unhinged part of the entire night.
The two of us lost it, collapsing into knee-buckling laughter. Nate caught his breath enough to add, “Talk about a warm welcome.” He waved the sodden strip in the air like a victory flag, then finally wiped his own mess with it, folding the cum-streaked fabric into a gross little square before neatly stacking it atop the throne. The obscene symbolism wasn’t lost on eitherof us, but we were too delirious from endorphin whiplash to acknowledge it.
“What the hell even is bunting anyway? Weird word,” I said, fastening my pants. I picked up my shirt and wrestled it back on while Nate did the same.
“Whatever it is, I think we’ve given it a new purpose.” He watched me shrug my coat over my shoulders. “I guess we should get back to the party.”
“For like ten minutes before we go home and crash?” A bone-deep exhaustion filled me. I wanted our bed and him, skin to skin, craved the contentment that descended when I flipped off the light and we lay next to each other in the dark.
“Fuck yes.”
Before we got fully downstairs, right at the landing where the banister curled, I snagged his collar and pulled him to me.
It didn’t matter how many times I kissed Nate Sanders, how many times I pushed him up against doorframes or cars or even the inside walls of my own goddamn skull, he always leaned into it with every fiber of his being.
I stole one last taste of him—cheap beer, the salt of his sweat along his jaw where my tongue followed the curve before I pulled away.
I’d be back for more later.
Once back in the main room, we found Mark, Chet, Jesse, and Sam kicked back on a couch that was way too small to support all of them.
“What the hell happened to you two?” Nate asked, eyeing the gore splattered liberally all over Mark and Chet’s costumes. They looked like they’d gotten into a fight with every single chainsaw in a five-mile radius and lost.
“I think Troy happened,” I said wryly. Only Chet seemed to get it, though. He chuckled, and I tossed him a conspiratorial wink.
“Troy is definitely the best answer,” he agreed.
I studied Sam next, shocked to see he’d branched out from the obvious. He might have gone a little too far, though. I had no clue who the fuck he was supposed to be. “Who’re you?”
“Landon fromThrice Bound by Oath.”He grinned at me expectantly, but I was still clueless.
“That’s a movie? A show?” I tried.
“It’s a book.” The low baritone of Ansel’s voice came from behind me. “Excellent choice, Samson. Damien sucks.”
“He’s just misunderstood,” Jesse protested, then paused. “Wait, you read it?”