This anthology will collect noir and hard-boiled style stories from some of Wattpad's brightest authors, as well as some up-and-comers that I think we'll be seeing a lot of in the future. This dark group will spread their stories across several diff...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
Who wears black nail polish?
None of the others did. Maybe he'd met a drag queen named, Cortney Cocks once with ebony digits? Only he knows what happened after.
A foot flexes and like they all do, she struggles to get free. But I dig deeper into the thin pink skin, to penetrate and cause terror, horror—stained sheets.
"Stop. You know I hate it when you scratch my feet." Her giggle's like a pickaxe being dragged across a frozen lake.
Note to self: clip toenails.
Izzy enjoys it when I spoon into her from behind after sex. When we cuddle, it soothes her or some shit like that. More than half the time my libido takes over and I'm ready to go again.
The alarm chimes a third time.
"I'm late." Chills rush up my calves from the lofts iron floor. "Where are my goddam socks?"
She shrugs.
Under the bed, I find a pair of hers.
It's worse than wearing her thong. But my feet are cold. I hate it when my feet are cold. Black booty sox with hot pink vertical lines.
Great.
"You gonna come over later?"
One of her small breasts peeks out of the sheets like an enemy sub's periscope. She's cute ... too cute for my own good.
"Maybe if you win the lotto." I give her a closed smile.
"Chess, you know it's my day. Please come back."
Everyone calls me Chess. My mother called me Chester. No one else. No one else knows. If they did, I'd have to ... well.
Izzy crawls across the bed like a wildcat stalking her prey. She's after a goodbye kiss.
Shit.
Been like this for a while with the sex. Now a kiss before I leave? The process has started again. I would love to kiss her with all the passion of Valentino. Those types of feelings tear at me. They're wild beasts trapped deep inside—clawing—gnawing their way to the surface. I'm not sure if she's my Banky, but she's damn close.
My head throbs when I think about what comes with the kiss; the "I love you's'" and the "let's move in together's". Maybe I'll get flowers and a box of goddam chocolates—if I decide to come back. I oblige and kiss her on the forehead.
"What the fuck was that?"
"It is what it is." I raise my cool eyebrow. An explosion burned off the other.
"Oh, really?" She scrunches her nose and forehead. Then relaxes and smiles. "Kiss me." Her bottom lip juts out.
