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I moved to his bedside, ripping out the drawers there, too. Nothing of value to me. Nothing at all, aside from a broken Marvel figurine. Another redhead.
Natasha Romanoff looked nice in her painted-on suit.
Cedric and I had something in common. I always had a soft spot for redheads. It started with Jessica Rabbit and ended with Cat.
After quickly contemplating stealing it, I dumped the figurine back in the drawer. Cedric could have his toys. I had better things to play with.
His voice echoed in from a broken window in his private bathroom.
I stepped across broken tiles to see if he was heading this way. He wasn’t.
I searched his cabinets and gifted the moldy thing a kick that had the side breaking off and slumping against the dirty toilet, when I couldn’t find what I wanted.
Drugs.
I stormed back through his room, my irritation growing and knocking off all his pointless shit from his shelves. I kicked a tissue box at my feet, and it hit the dated wallpaper peeling from the wall, and out fell something valuable.
I bent to collect the bag of white powder, and too eager to get the shit into my system, I tipped too much of it out, losing half of it to the dirty carpet as I loaded the back of my hand, my shaking fingers positioning the shit that was so bad for me, to where I wanted it.
I snorted, then snorted again, before rubbing the tiny bit that was left into my gums. It took a lot to even touch me these days.
But this was enough for now. The high came quickly, matching the speed at which the drug entered my body.
I waited a few minutes on the dusty carpet, feeling each fiber.
Thank fuck, I didn’t live in a shit heap like this. Thank fuck, I was better than having to literally purchase a person just to get my cock wet.
He was still out there, calling his little nickname for her. I shifted to his window, letting the decreasing army of bears protect my new prized possession, which was the remainder of cocaine.
Pathetic.
My blood itched, wanting to be back with Cat, on the bed, in those ugly as fuck stinking pajamas.
A bang rattled from her room, and I was at her side in seconds.
She was on the floor, struggling to move in her barely lucid state.
“What the fuck!”
Pushing herself up, she gasped and tucked a purple wrist into her chest before falling onto her elbows. Her hair curtained her face, and all the pain in her expression became hidden from me.
Brittle knee bones clicked as I bent to my haunches, tucking her pretty hair behind her ears. Her head drooped, the chemicals making it hard for her to lift it.
Her light weight made it easy to pluck her from the ground. I placed her on the bed, fanning her pretty hair out on the pillow.
“You look unreal.”
I snapped a photo of her on my phone that would have me coming in my shorts whenever I fucking looked at it.
Leaning over her, I shoved my phone into my back pocket and forced my lips on hers. The traces of cocaine still in my mouth gifted her the energy to open her eyes, fighting with the other drugs that wanted them closed.
“My heart is racing.” She blinked, trying to focus on an image, any image.
“For me?” Of course, for me.
“It doesn’t feel right.” Her hand was on her chest, clutching the dirty pajamas.
“Shall I take a look?” I popped the first button on her shirt, and my cock thickened over a hint of skin.
