Hound

7

He laid over her body, mourning his 2000 dollar table. Oh well, a worthy pursuit caused it's demise.

“I want some fuckin tacos,” He murmured.

She dug her nails into his back. “But I only came five times.”

“You're a fuckin nympho,” He complained.

She grinned. “I am. My shrink says it's because my Daddy doesn't love me, so I translate my hurt onto other men, and project it through unreasonably rough sex.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. Anyway, if you want another f**k, go get me tacos. I need to recover.”

“Am I paying?”

He gave her a side eye. “f**k yes. This is my payment. Get me some Tacos, or you can kiss your c*m good bye.”

She rolled her eyes. “I could just c*m without you.”

He rolled his eyes back “Some how, I doubt that. Now stop talking. Get me tacos.”

“Bite me,” She smirked.

He scoffed. “I fuckin hate you, you know that?"

“Just once. What's the point of the fangs, if you don't bite me.”

“Just so you know, these aren't for your pleasure. And they were very painful to aquire.”

“Uh-huh. Bite me.”

Sighing, he out his nose in her neck, lightly sinking his sharpened teeth into her neck.

“There. Any deeper, and you bleed out from your jugular.”

“You say the sexiest things."

He shook his head, rolling off her. “Why do I always get with the freaks? The last girl I was with, me to rip her c**t off.”

She winced. “First off, ouch. Second. Ew. Third, who the hell do you f**k with?"

She dressed as he slung his arm over his eyes.

“Freaks. And Nymphos. And girls who like to take it up the ass. It's double edged sword that bunch.”

She put her hair up. “Okay, Tacos?”

“Everything on it, and a Dr. Pepper.”

She frowned. “Why do I have to pay for this?”

“Because, I'm your kept man, and you need to provide for me," He intoned.

She started at him, her eyebrow quirking.

“And because you made me bite you. And I'm insecure about my teeth. And blood taste nasty. What the f**k am I a vampire.”

“Better than a mutt,” She muttered, walking out of the room.

“I heard that!”

“Don't give a f**k,” She called, swiping his card from his wallet.

“I'm heading out to Taco Bell. I'll be back!”

He hummed, hearing the door shut. Slowly, he reached for his phone, making a call.

“Did you do it?”

“Yeah. May I ask why I killed him?”

He shrugged. “No. That's all. Don't disturb me till tomorrow.”

“Hound, you dog.”

He rolled his eyes. “That's not funny, Kyle. Do you think that's funny?”

“W-well—”

“Do your puns make you feel superior?”

“N-No—”

“Good. Because you're a f*****g asshole, Kyle. And not the sexy, tight kind. The loose, anal w***e from Pornhub kind.”

“S-sorry, boss."

His phone pinged. He pulled it back. It was his bank alerting him of a transaction.

23.27 from Taco Bell.

“That b***h!"

And also. 23 dollars? What the hell did she get? Fuckin', hard shelled Taco made of gold?