Page 48 of Overdose

Right there. Right in the middle of the floor.

And fuck, she’s gorgeous like this. Wild, unraveling and fucking mine.

I keep my hand on her, letting her ride it out, grinding softly as her body twitches, as the wave crashes and recedes. I press a kiss to her jaw, then her mouth, swallowing the wrecked sound she makes.

My cock is painfully hard behind my jeans, but I don’t move. Not yet.

Not until she opens her eyes and looks at me like that.

Like I’m the only thing tethering her to the ground.

She doesn’t know it—but she’s my fix, too. My addiction. And when I finally take all of her, really fucking take her—I know I’ll overdose.

And I’ll do it gladly.

I bring my hand to my mouth, sucking each finger clean—slow, deliberate. Her taste coats my tongue, heady and addictive. She watches the whole thing, pupils blown wide, her smirk curled like sin.

Like she knows exactly what the fuck she just did to me.

We dance for a while—longer than we should. Long enough to forget the shit under our skin and in our blood. Her hands tangle in my hair, nails grazing my scalp, lips brushing my neck like a tease with every sway. She moves against me like she’strying to fuck me through fabric—slow, filthy, and without a care who’s watching.

And I let her.

Because right now, she’s not chasing the high.

She’s chasing me.

And fuck if I don’t want to be caught.

We melt back into the crowd like nothing happened. Like I didn’t just make her cum while half the warehouse watched through the strobe and smoke. Like her panties aren’t soaked and my fingers don’t still tingle from being inside her.

She’s chaos in a little skirt that rides high and a split-toned crown of braids that swing like she’s being dragged by the beat.

And fuck me if it isn’t the hottest shit I’ve ever seen. I want her just like this. Wild and free but tethered to something that won’t kill her.

Shit I want her tethered tome.

I don’t get like this. Not with anyone. Not since?—

Fuck.

I bite the thought off before it finishes.

She wasn’t mine. I cared, yeah. But not like this.

Not the way I watch Blair like I’m waiting for the world to take her from me.

Not the way every little mouthy look she throws has me ready to snap someone’s neck if get near her.

Blair’s different. Wilder. Unafraid.

She moves against me like she’s made to be there—hips rolling, fingers tugging at my shirt, ass grinding into my thigh until my jaw’s clenched and my blood’s heating like I’ve just downed a shot of liquid fire.

Every beat drops like a war drum, and she rides it like sin in motion, dragging me into her chaos. Into her orbit.

Fuck.

She’s high, but she’s coming down. I can feel it in the way her rhythm softens, the way her muscles start to slack just a little, like her body’s crashing but she’s still chasing the spark.