Musical Accompainment: Trouble by Valerie Broussard
Nothing is more addictive than the taste of danger.
CAMERON
As Earl speaks, he presses harder, choking me and I start to see dark spots on the edges of my vision.
Then he leans in and brushes the skin of my lower lip with his.
“Am. I. Clear?” He repeats.
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.
I make myself open my eyes and look at him.
“Crystal.”
Earl hums low in his throat. “Good.”
And then suddenly his mouth is on mine.
There’s no tenderness or kindness in the way he kisses me then. Just heat and teeth and the kind of kiss that feels like it might be ripping my soul out along with it.
No mercy, no pause.
I taste blood but I am not sure if it’s mine or his and quite frankly, I do not care.
I hate him.
But I kiss him back a
