Faster We Burn

bumped.
    “Hey,” she said, putting her hand on my chest to stop me. “I’m sorry. I just came over to see if you’re okay.” She sniffed, smelling the scotch on my breath.
    “Looks like Allan already beat me to it. Scotch?”
    “Yep,” I said, stepping away from her hand. “So, I’m fine.”
    “Hey.” She reached for me again, putting her arms around me. “It sucks, okay? It’s okay to talk about it.” Her hair smelled like cigarettes and some sort of spicy perfume.
    She didn’t smell like Katie.
    Hesitantly, I returned the hug and she pressed herself against me and I could feel her tits pressed into my chest. Her hands meandered up and down my back and she breathed softly.
    I dropped my arms and broke the hug.
    “I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”
    Her blue eyes widened for just a moment.
    “Then we don’t have to talk,” she said, her hand moving down my back and dancing on the hem of my shirt. “We can forget all about it.”
    “What about Baxter?” I said as she started to pull at my shirt and move closer to me.
    “We broke up. He’s not the one I want.” She lifted her chin and I couldn’t look her in the eye. Blue eyes. Not brown.
    Not Katie’s eyes.
    Her lips were close to mine and I could feel the heat coming off her skin. She was taller than Katie, so I wouldn’t have to bend as much to kiss her.
    “You’re the one I want,” she said just before she closed that last whisper of space between us and placed a kiss on my lips. They were dry, and didn’t fit my mouth quite right, but after a moment, I gave in, putting my hand on the back of her head and holding her in place. Her hands went to my shirt, pulling it over my head and throwing it on the floor. Hers was next, and no, she wasn’t wearing anything under her t-shirt.
    “Finally,” she said, hooking her fingers into my belt loops and pulling me toward the couch. I kissed her again and let my eyes close as I fell on top of her. Her hands ripped at my belt as her lips tried to devour me. Our noses crashed a couple of times, and she couldn’t seem to get the belt undone, which was odd, because she was the sober one.
    “Got it,” I said, taking her hands away from it as she worked at her own pants and I heard a tearing sound as she ripped them even more in her hurry to get them off. Raking her hands on my chest, she yanked me down for another kiss. I shoved my pants and boxers down to my ankles and paused for a second above her.
    “Fuck me hard, Stryker. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
    Her boobs were too small and her hips too narrow and her legs too long and her lips to thin and her eyes not brown.
    Not Katie .
    She put both hands on my dick and guided me down.
    “Fuck me hard.”
    I plunged into her and her eyes went wide and she made a little grunt. I only gave her a second to adjust before I pulled back and slammed again. Her hands went around my neck and she tried to kiss me. I let her because I didn’t want to look into her not-brown eyes.
    Over and over I pounded into her as she urged me on.
    Not. Katie. Not. Katie. Not. Katie .
    Her ankles didn’t wrap around me, she didn’t make those sweet little sounds, she didn’t dig her fingers into my back.
    Not. Katie. Not. Katie. Not. Katie .
    “Yes, yes, fuck me harder.” Her voice invaded my mind and I tried to shut her out by kissing her again so she’d stop talking.
    Thankfully, I was able to finish a second later. I pulled out immediately, yanked up my pants and stumbled to the bathroom to turn on the shower.
     
    Katie
     
    Mom didn’t discover my wall until the next morning when she snuck in to clean. I never kept anything secretive in my room because she snooped through all of my drawers. My secret hiding place was in Kayla’s room, under a floorboard.
    Her shriek carried all the way down the stairs. “Katie! What did you do?”
    I looked at Kayla and Adam. We’d been having a discussion about the worst ways to die. I thought drowning, but Adam was all for fire.
    “Looks like I’m in trouble, as usual,” I said, getting up from the couch and walking up the stairs to face my doom.
    “What is this?” Seeing her face made me reconsider the drowning thing as the worst way to die. Getting glared to death by my mother had moved its way to the top of the list. She waved her hand at my wall.
    “It’s art.” Okay, okay, it was a snarky response and totally set me up for pissing her off more, but I couldn’t help it. Holding back from