Page 60 of Overdose

Not walking away.

She leans in. Slow. Intentional, and when her mouth meets mine, it’s not soft.

It’s punishment.

Teeth clashing. Tongues battling. Her fingers tangle in my shirt like she wants to tear it off or strangle me with it. She climbs into my lap without a single word, straddling me like we didn’t just tear each other apart seconds ago.

I groan against her mouth as she grinds down, her heat seeping through the denim between us like a fucking curse I’ve been begging for. My hands slide to her hips, fingers biting in. I need the pressure. The weight. Something to hold onto while she drags me under.

Her breath ghosts against my lips. “This doesn’t change anything.”

I smirk—dark, slow, like I already know how this ends.

“That’s where you’re wrong, little relapse,” I murmur, dragging my mouth along her jaw. “This? This is about to change everything.”

Because she’s the one vice I kept just out of reach. But now she’s in my lap, biting my tongue with hers, and I already know—one hit won’t be enough.

She’s my fucking drug.

But I want to be hers too.

Because if she’s full of me—if I’m what she needs to get high—maybe she won’t reach for anything else.

Not pills.

Not parties.

Not anything but this.

Us.

She rocks her hips, slow, hungrily, right over my hard-on, and my head drops back with a groan.

Fuck.

Her hands roam—shoulders, chest, then down, undoing my belt with a vicious kind of precision. My pulse pounds in my ears. My grip on her tightens.

I want to ruin her. Break her open and watch what spills out. But I want her towantit. Need it like I do.

“Admit it,” I growl, my voice low and rough as gravel. “You want this.”

She doesn’t answer, just stares me down, lips parted, chest rising like she’s trying to breathe through the heat between us.

So I reach between her thighs. Cup her through her panties. She’s soaked—dripping, warm and wet and trembling. I drag the fabric aside and slide my fingers through her slick heat, slow and taunting. Her body jerks. A gasp escapes her throat, sharp and needy.

“Say it,” I rasp, curling a finger inside her, just to watch her eyes go wide. “Say you want me to fuck you.”

Her hips grind down, chasing more friction, more depth, moreme.

“Dagger—”

“Say it, little relapse,” I whisper against her neck, teeth grazing her skin. “Say you want me like a fucking fix.”

She chokes on a moan, clutches my shoulders, her voice wrecked and raw. “I want it. I want you.”

My smile is slow. Dark. Addicted.

“Then hold on,” I murmur, dragging my mouth along her collarbone. “Because I’m not giving you a taste. I’m giving you a goddamn overdose.”