Squeak

Sleepover Pt. 1

Hey! I need to go over a few housekeeping points. First, please let's be respectful to each other in the comments. I know that Squeak covers some pretty hot topics, including religion, and some feel that they have to defend Christianity. All opinions are welcome; all I ask is that y'all be respectful. Second, Squeak is a dark romance book featuring a toxic relationship. Erik has red flags a mile long, and I assume if you've read this far that you're along for the ride and that appeals to you. Please do not shame readers for finding Erik's personality, mannerisms, or actions attractive. That's a little odd, considering the genre of the book, and if it makes you feel uncomfortable, then this book may not be for you. There are plenty of other sweet or contemporary romances on Wattpad to check out. I can even recommend you some. At the end of the day, Erik and Squeak are locked in for life, so getting upset about it is a waste of energy. Be kind, or be blocked. 

Erik

"How are you feeling?" I asked curiously, watching her decide what pajama set she'd wear for the night.

"As if you'd care," she mumbled back.

She's right. I don't care, but I'm curious to know what she's thinking about. She's not an open book. She's never been, and that's what makes her so interesting.

"I care," I lied, reaching for the hem of her pink towel that hid her generous body from me.

"No. You don't care. You just hate the silence."

Fuck her.

"Which outfit should I wear tonight?"

"I don't know, Squeak. You might have to try them on for me," I suggested.

She gave me a knowing smile.

"I have a better idea," she said, approaching me.

"Let's hear it."

"I think we both deserve a reward. I think I did well tonight, and you've been behaving."

"What kind of reward?" I asked, scooting to the middle of the bed as she crawled on top of me.

"You wanted me to use your face as a personal seat, right?"

"Oh, Mrs. King. Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"Mrs. King? You must be in a good mood. Speaking of Mrs. King, are you ready to have dinner with your mother and Charles tomorrow?"

"Honestly, I can't wait," I replied, stripping her of her towel.

"Uh-oh. You have that murderous gleam in your eyes."

"Murder...lust...it's the same look."

"Lucky me," she whispered, groping me through my shorts. "King?"

"Yeah, Squeak?"

"I know you're looking forward to this dinner tomorrow because you want to torture Charles, but I want you on your best behavior."

"No dice."

"No, no, no. Hear me out. What would get under Charles' skin more? You being rude and calling him out of his name all evening, or playing nice? He's used to your verbal abuse. If you choose the latter, then he'd be on pins and needles the entire dinner, waiting for the other shoe to drop."

I paused to consider. She was right. I could smile and be "respectful" for a few hours. I might even give him a handshake or a hug at the end of the dinner. Charles would be shitting his pants.

"I think I can do that."

"Good. Now, say ah," she instructed before straddling my face. I was about to stick out my tongue when she stopped me. "On second thought. Let's try something a little different."