Girl You Fucked Before (18+)

Addison's Kiss Of Death

"I think Fred will suffice."

"Fred it is," I agreed, nodding. I patted the image affectionately. "There, there, Fred. I'll take good care of you."

"Watch out, Fred," Matt muttered, stooping in low and murmuring to the press-on. "That's what she claims right before she bites your head off."

I swatted Matt on the behind and he hopped out of my reach, chuckling. "You're one to lecture about murdering people, Reaper. Just because you're dressed all preppy doesn't mean that I forgot that you drain the lifeforce out of others with your kiss of death."

"But what a way to go." He wiggled his brows at me, swiping his leather jacket off my bed and starting to shrug it on. He paused when I gave him a pointed look.

"Nuh uh," I said, wagging my finger. "That's not allowed Mattie boy. It clashes with your new look."

A slow smile spread across his full lips. "Yes, ma'am. The rules are the rules." Taking a step towards me, he wrapped the garment around my shoulders, pulling it closed at my chest. "I think it's much more suited for your attire anyways."

I lifted my gaze, our eyes locking and the cedarwood scent from the fabric teasing my nostrils. We stood there staring at one another, our feet planted on the carpet. After several thumps of my heart, I broke the spell by clearing my throat. "Uh...party," I piped up, pointing at the door. "Let's get going. You promised."

He nodded. "The rules are the rules," he repeated.

"This is boring as hell," Matt complained a couple of hours later as he leaned against a console table in an overpacked living room, surveying the crowd.

I gave him a strange look. "That's a contradictory statement coming from a Satan worshipper." Patting him on the back, I smiled in an antagonizing manner. "What happened to that go-getter attitude from earlier?"

He grimaced, watching a group of guys chug down beers and fist-bumping one another as they belched loudly. "We arrived here."

"Matt, the thing about parties is that they are as lame or as wild as you make them to be. Of course, you're not going to enjoy yourself if you don't even attempt to have fun." I downed the remnants of the fruity cocktail I had concocted earlier and grabbed his fingers.

"What are you doing?" He asked with fear in his tone, horror washing over his expression and his eyes widening.

Walking backwards, I pulled him out into the middle of the living room. "Come dance."

He stood there awkwardly as I began shimmying my hips in circles around him. "Thanks for the assault that I didn't ask for, but I think I'll pass," he mumbled, pivoting to scurry back to his console corner.

I grabbed him by the arm, tossing my own around his neck. "Dance," I instructed more firmly. "I'll teach you." My palms flew to his hips, and I pressed them to him as I guided his movements to match the rhythm of the upbeat song blasting all around us. "Yes!" I encouraged. "Exactly like that."

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't disguise the grin that peeked out on his features from behind the scowls. "I feel like an idiot," he shouted over the thumping bass of the stereo. He lifted my hand above my head, prompting me into a twirl.

"There you go," I replied. "You're well on your way to winning a dance competition now."

"Then I guess I better pull out my best move." I squealed as he grasped my waist, guiding me backwards into a low dip.

Our eyes met again, and our surroundings slowed into a swirling blur. Warmth spread to my toes and over the music, I could hear the rhythm of my heart pounding in my ears. His lips hovered inches from mine and the spice of the cinnamon on his breath assaulted my senses. I found my fingers suddenly moving of their own accord to brush a stray lock of hair from his vision.

My breath hitched in my throat and all at once, the grin on his face instantly morphed into a frown. "Addison...? Are you alright? You've gone pale."

Raising myself up, I shoved him away with a nudge of my palm. "I think I'm going to be sick. It's the alcohol." I fanned my face, sweat beading my brow. "I'm overheated and the room is spinning. I need air!"

I clawed at my throat, elbowing my way through the crowd in a desperate mission to reach the patio doors as though the fate of the world rested solely in my fingertips. I had only just stepped one combat boot onto the stone pathway when I hurled the contents of my stomach onto the ground.

"That's how I felt too the first time I saw you without make-up, but I promise you'll get used to it." Matt handed me a tissue as he dropped onto the grass beside me. Then glancing over, he rested his arms on his knees, toying with a blade of grass. "Seriously though, are you going to be okay?"

Trembling, I tucked a damp piece of hair behind my ear. "I...think I need to go home."

He held out his palm to help me up, but I ignored the gesture, instead pulling myself to my feet. His sights never left me as he studied me, concern shining in his grey eyes. "Do you want me to stay with you for awhile?"

Suddenly shivering, I wrapped my arms tightly around my body and inhaled a shuddering breath. "No," I answered, cuttingly. "I need to not be around you right now."

"Oh." He stared at me with a bewildered expression. "Did I do-"

"You're fine." I shook my head wildly. "I meant that I don't want to be around anyone. My head is throbbing, and my stomach still feels queasy. Please, just take me home."

He nodded, questions still swirling in his gaze. "Of course." He placed his touch on the small of my back as he led me to his vehicle, the tips of his fingers branding me with their scorching electricity. As he settled into the driver's seat of the Jetta, I pressed my forehead against the windowpane, the glass providing a cooling relief to my clammy forehead.

Please make it go away, I silently pleaded, not referring to the aching in my temples or the unsettled contents of my stomach. My gaze dropped to Fred, his smile now resembling a sneer. It's only ever just one night. Come tomorrow, the spell will be broken, and all cornflower blue pumpkins will return to their shroud of black.

But despite my reassurances to myself, I couldn't help but feel that I had just been giving the kiss of death by none other than the Grim Reaper himself without ever having touched his lips.