Page 59 of Crush

I almost have the heart to tell her a leopard is different from a cheetah, but I honestly don’t have the care factor to form the words.

“So, what are you supposed to be?” she asks.

I eye her drolly. As if she gives a shit. “Guess.”

“Ummm…” Her tongue swipes out against her lower lip as she rakes over me. “Christian Grey?”

I swallow a condescending laugh. “Sure, why not.”

“That’s not the right answer?” Her forehead creases. “But who else would be in a suit? Like, 007?”

“Think closer to the ring of hell.”

Her forehead wrinkles deepen, then smooth. “Oh! Lucifer from Lucifer! But where are your wings?”

“Currently on the back of whoever my best friend’s fucking at the moment.”

She’s undeterred.

“Thorne…” She draws out my name while tracing a finger down the side of my neck. “You’ve been on my bucket list for, like, a year. How about I wear the wings next and check you off?”

I squint at her face. The cheetah spots she’s applied look like a bad case of necrotic acne.

Something breaks nearby. Jaxon comes out of a side room and cheers, waving his scepter around as he pretends to be king of Winthorpe underneath a velvet, fur-lined cape and an obnoxious crown he found on Amazon. His conquest follows him out, white-feathered wings askew over her naughty zombie outfit. This is all seen out of my periphery, as I don’t break my attention from Cheetah Junior’s face.

Her lips pull even wider.

I sigh, then stand. “Fine, but it’ll have to be from behind.”

The last thing I want to do is fuck someone while being tickled by their whiskers.

She squeaks with glee, then grabs my hand. I let her drag me through the drunks and highs, wishing I’d imbibed a little more before agreeing to a quick fuck. Inspired, I grab the fresh whiskey Jaxon’s waving around and chug it down in two swallows.

“Dude, what the f—?” When he sees it’s me and who I’m with, Jaxon hikes up his brows. “You sure you wanna do that? What about…?”

I jab him in the side. “Don’t fucking say her name.”

“Got it,” he grinds out as he grimaces through the pain. “But it’s your funeral.”

I glower at him before moving on, Cheetah Junior prancing through the crowd and finding the stairs in no time.

If she thinks we’re going in my room, she’s in for a disappointment.

I hook her as soon as we reach the top of the stairs and press her against the wall, her face squished against the carved wooden panels.

She yelps in surprise, but I catch her smile as I grind up against her ass, testing. “God, yes. Keep going, Thorne.”

Grunting, I press harder, getting between her ass cheeks, but my dick’s decided to play dead.

I step back, admiring the view, then grab the hem of her shorts and pull them down, exposing her ass to the hallway. A few stragglers have wandered in this direction. As soon as they see me and notice the girl moaning against the wall, they scamper out. I don’t pay them any mind as I rub my cock through my pants, coaxing it to stiffen.

Cheetah Junior is a redhead, but in a blink, her hair turns ash blond, the silvery strands tickling the top of her ass crack.

She thins out, too, her tits shrinking to palm size.

My dick twitches.

On a growl, I pull my dick out, coming up behind Ember and cupping her tits, squeezing hard.