Page 146 of Vying Girls

I grab one of her hands, grunting when she yanks it back. Grasping more firmly, I pull it towards me. ‘Stay still or I’ll cut you.’

She’s poised to bolt, watching with flitting eyes as I cut the first nail.

‘Nic, no, I’ve just grown them out!’

I snort. Is she fucking serious right now? I clutch her hand hard, preparing for her to fight.

‘No more,’ I grit out, cutting the next one.

She doesn’t ask what, but nor does she agree. After all, it’s not her, is it? It’sme.I do this to her, it’s me pulling the strings.

My hands shake. I can’t be sure I won’t add another nick to her record. I’m aware of the bloodied marks beneath me, glad they’re concealed by her pyjama bottoms. No shorts this time. Covering up her pain for once.

‘Nic, that’s enough now.’

Carrying on, the roar steadies with every clip.

‘Nic, seriously, stop now—’

I grab her face, dig my nails into her cheeks and kiss her. She whimpers in surprise, the sound vibrating against my teeth.

‘What the fuck?’

Tilda snaps her head round at Haz’s voice, but I don’t. Breathing hard, I resume my solemn task, taking advantage of her distraction to cut her remaining nails.

‘Nic, are you fucking demented?’

‘Do one, Haz,’ I mutter.

‘Get those scissors out of her face first.’

‘Haz. I’m okay.’ Tilda clears the huskiness from her voice. ‘Can you close the door, please?’

Haz does only after another moment of looking between us, a huff escaping her as she slams it.

I don’t look at Tilda, carefully cutting around the nail of her littlest finger. They’re painted black, chipped like she applied it days ago. I’m aware of her watching me. Her gaze is incinerating. I flush beneath it, the memory of what I just did hitting me full force.

After a moment, she covers my restless hand, leans up and kisses me. My stomach caves, those soft lips feeling sofucking good.They’re cool, cushiony, smooth from lip balm.

I shove her back down with my palm. Just one more nail. Her index finger. The longest. Probably the one she uses to cut herself the most.

‘Nic…please kiss me.’

I cut around the curve carefully, the ping of the scissors making me twitch. It’s like my blood’s on fire, this small act all that’s keeping me together.

‘Nic.’

Gritting my teeth, I hurl the scissors, swallowing Tilda’s flinch when they hit her metal bin. Free from my clutches, she winds her arms around my neck, kissing me as hard as I’m kissing her. Like she wants this. Like she wants me.

Only my limbs touch her, my body still hovering, unwilling to yield. Tilda grasps my top and tugs me down. My arms shake, like two twigs in the wind. I grunt as I fall onto her, my pussy screaming as it grazes her hip.

It’s not a graceful kiss. It’s messy, vicious, so much unsaid in it, a decade’s worth of resentment, lost love and pain. Our bodies grow hot, all the unspoken things a friction between us, a match on the cusp of igniting.

She tugs on my hair, cupping my skull and pressing me to her. Her hips rise against mine, the rhythm driving me mad. I tongue her lips, the cut on them, gladly delving inside. The more we’re fused, the harder it’ll be to extricate ourselves. We’ll have to be brave, to face whatever this is for once.

She tucks her thumbs under my waistband, taking mindful swipes at the skin there. I pull away, the sight of her eyes opening panicking me. I force her over, my own hands pulling jerkily at her trousers, baring her ass to me again, a sight I haven’t been able to bleach from my eyes.

‘Do you want this?’ I breathe, palming her cool skin.