Page 81 of Wraith

She pulls off with a wet sound and stands.

I spin her to face the mirror, hike her dress up around her waist, and position myself behind her. She braces her hands against the mirror, and I can see both of us reflected in it: her flushed face, my hands on her hips, the way her dress bunches between us.

I push into her slowly. She’s so wet that I slide in easily, and when I’m fully inside her, she makes a sound that’s pure satisfaction.

“Quiet,” I murmur against her ear, teasing. I don’t give a fuck if anyone hears, but I love the way her pussy clenches my cock when she tenses. “We have to be quiet.”

She nods and bites her lip, and I move.

The changing room is so small that every thrust rocks her forward into the mirror. Her hands squeak against the glass. I watch our reflections. I watch her face as I fuck her, watch the way her eyes flutter closed and then open again, watch the way her mouth forms silent words that might be my name or might be prayers or might be nothing at all.

I grip her hips harder, pulling her back onto me with each thrust.

The angle is perfect, hitting deep, and I can feel her climbing toward another orgasm already. Her pussy is tightening around me, her breathing coming faster despite her attempts to stay quiet.

“Dylan,” she whispers. “Dylan, just like that. I’m going to come again.”

I cover her mouth with my hand and she comes against my palm, muffling her cries while her body shakes with it. The sensation of her clenching around me, the visual of her face in the mirror, the way she’s completely mine in this moment — it’s enough to send me over the edge.

I bury myself deep and come inside her, biting down on my lip to keep from making noise. The pleasure rolls through me in waves, and I hold her tight against me while we both ride it out.

For a moment we just stand there, connected, breathing hard, our reflections staring back at us from the smudged mirror.

Then reality filters back in.

I pull out carefully and help her straighten her dress. She’s flushed and glowing, and there’s a satisfied smile on her face that makes my chest warm.

“OK,” she says, still slightly breathless. “Let’s get to our date.”

I pull my slacks back up, tuck myself away, and fasten my belt. Smooth down my shirt. Check the mirror to make sure I look presentable. June’s fixed her dress and is running her fingers through her hair, trying to tame it back into something that doesn’t scream “I just got fucked in a changing room.”

We exit together.

I grab the casual clothes I left on the bench. The changing room door clicks shut behind us, and we walk toward the front counter like we’re just normal customers who spent a normal amount of time trying on clothes.

The purple-haired girl doesn’t look up until we set the items on the counter. She pulls out one earbud and looks at us with the blank expression of someone whose soul left her body before her shift.

“Are you wearing those?” She asks, gesturing at our clothes.

“Yeah,” I say.

She sighs as if this is the most inconvenient thing that’s happened to her all day, then scans the tags. “That’s forty-seven fifty.”

I pull out cash out of the wad Evan gave June and count out fifty. “Keep the change.”

“Whatever.” She drops it into the register. Doesn’t ask if we want a bag. Just slides the clothes across the counter and goes back to her phone.

The bells jingle as we exit. The sun is bright after the dim interior of the store, and I squint against it. June takes my hand and we walk back toward the truck, but instead of getting in, we keep walking toward Bistro Bellisimo.

“Ready?”

She smiles. “I’m ready.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

June

The restaurant smells of garlic and butter and expensive wine. Real cloth napkins rest in my lap, heavy and pressed, the kind that get laundered instead of thrown away. The lighting is soft and amber, nothing like the harsh fluorescents of the thrift store or the motel. Around us, couples and families eat and talk and laugh; their voices creating a pleasant hum that feels like safety. Normal people doing normal things. And right now, sitting across from Wraith in this booth with a glass of Chardonnay in my hand and a plate of sea bass in front of me, I am one of them.