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Deviant Desires	By : Flagg1991 Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 8519 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Loud House and will not profit from this story

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
Sam Sharp crossed her arms over her small breasts and drew a deep, impatient breath through her nose. She was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt with KROKUS across the front when she wanted to be wearing nothing at all. Here's something you might not realize: Teasing is just as hot as being teased. Flirting with Lincoln, touching his leg, pressing her aching breasts against his warm skin, being this close to naked before his hungry eyes, left her so hot she could barely think. She was like a junkie consumed with need, and she would do anything to get her fix, even sell her own grandmother into white slavery (sorry, Nana, but it's for the best...my best).
Last night, she and Luna had conspired to tease Lincoln, get him flustered, then pounce him like two lionesses in heat. Sam was going to take the lead, then Luna was going to come in once he was too weak to resist...too far gone to care that the girl kissing his mouth and rubbing him through his pants was his older sister.
She figured she'd get a little excited - duh, of course she would - but she had no freaking idea. Oh my God. She came this close to grabbing Lincoln's hand and jamming it between her legs. He wouldn't even have to do anything, just let her grind it for a minute or two and uhhhh, sweet release.
That wasn't the plan, though. She was originally going to stand up and...whoops, my towel fell off, now my tight young body is entirely exposed. From there, she was going to climb into his lap, run her fingers through his hair, and French kiss him until he quivered like a puddle of jelly. When he was love drunk, she'd tag Luna in and they'd feel their way along from there...literally.
Only there was a slight change of plans.
Namely, Luna chickening out like a big, nervous baby.
Sigh.
If Lincoln were literally any other guy, and if the best part of what was to come wasn't watching him lose his V-card to his big sister, Sam would have forged on ahead by herself. Forget Luna. Love you, hun, but you snooze, you lose. Sam couldn't do that so that meant she had to stand down.
And, sister, standing down was hard. Have you ever been cucked, cock-blocked, blue-balled, or otherwise interrupted at the height of arousal? If not, it's like being constipated, impacted, and filled with hot, liquid metal all at the same time. Her crotch ached (and not in a good way), and fingers of panicky desperation squeezed her like the cold, steely arms of a vise. Her body had readied itself for penetration, and denied that, it clammed up or something and now she hurt. Hormones meant to facilitate the biological act of sex flooded her bloodstream in anticipation of being burned off by lots of thrusting. Well, that didn't happen, and now they just kind of sat there, like uneaten fruit rotting in a bowl. Rage, grief, and (strangely) fear coursed through her like acid, the latter because God, what if this doesn't happen? I want it to happen so bad. I NEED it. She felt like crying, kicking her feet, screaming, and -
Just ugh.
She shot a dirty look at the back of Luna's head. This was her fault for being a giant sissy.
Sam took a deep breath and let it out. She was acting like a brat. This was about Luna, not her. Still, she was horny and backed up and the more time she spent next to Lincoln, the better he looked and the better the thought of his dick became. If this kept up much longer, she'd lose control, knock Luna out of the way, and take him for herself. The blonde couldn't help it. She'd already gotten herself in a certain frame of mind, believing she and Luna were on the same page, and by the time she realized they weren't her fuse had already been lit. Her entire body felt like one angry, denied, overstimulated nerve ending.
Presently, they were standing before a display in the vaulted main hall of the Detroit Natural History Museum. Hairy Neanderthals with sloped brows and loincloths populated a camp composed of grass huts surrounding a fire. Their fixed expressions and wooden poses, as though they had been frozen in the middle of their day by a villain escaped from a Marvel movie, creeped Sam out. One of the mannequins, a woman, sat by the fire with a baby on her lap. That meant that sometime in recent memory, she had hot, dirty, gross Neanderthal sex. Sam envisioned her lying back in the dirt with her legs up in the air and a caveman slamming savagely into her, and her core pinched.
Normally, masculinity didn't do much for Sam, but that image of a big, burly caveman taking what he wanted by brute force made her melt. Maybe it was the hormones. The purpose of sex is to reproduce, and big, masculine men are usually the carriers of primo sperm, making insimination more likely. They emit, you know, pheromones and stuff, and the girl picks up on it, like a strong, savory, yummy scent. She was primed and ready to go, her body demanding its biological purpose be served, so it made sense that manliness would suddenly turn her on. Lincoln wasn't the manliest man in man town, but he definitely had his own type of charm, and she found herself especially vulnerable to it at the moment. It was making her crazy.
Too crazy. Through the fog of lust hazing her brain, she knew she was being rash, knew that her grip on her own emotions was beginning to slip. Since leaving the apartment, she had stayed as far away from the boy as possible (which wasn't very far) because she couldn't trust herself to not do something stupid. She had to think clearly. They were at a vital junction here and one little misstep could ruin everything.
Thinking clearly when you're so turned on your nipples poke through the fabric of your eighties butt rock band T is kind of hard, though. Every time she tried to focus, thoughts of Lincoln and Luna sauntered sexily across her mind, and her spitting core clutched so hard she doubled over. This was, like, super horniness. Had she ever been this hard up? She didn't think so. She didn't mean to brag, but when it came to matters of sex, she always got her way and just so happened to never get blue-balled (blue-overies'd?).
Not this time, though. She was deprived and bothered and flooded with unused hormones and the prospect of not burning them off through a little sexy-sex made her restless.
Lincoln and Luna stood awkwardly side by side and chatted about the display (those cavepeople, huh?) and just seeing them there made Sam weak in the knees. Her eyes darted from one Loud butt to the other, and her teeth brushed her lower lip. They both had tight little tushies and it took everything Sam had to keep from squeezing them both. Wow, guys, nice genes.
She came so close to doing it that her hands cupped instinctively, but she stopped herself.
Just barely.
She took a deep, shivery breath and turned her head away from the source of her arousal. Off to the right, a group of kids gawked at a display of dinosaur bones, and elsewhere, an old janitor pushed a wheeled trash barrel toward the front lobby, its itty bitty tires making a clunking sound. Sam focused on that instead of Lincoln and Luna's yummy bodies smooshed together in carnal sin. Was one of those wheels wobbling? She bet it was. One wheel always wobbles. You'd think they came off the assembly line that way.
Luna laughed at something Lincoln said, and Sam detected a note of nervousness. Either he said something really messed up and she was mad uncomfortable (heh, nice racist joke, bro) or she was anxious in general. Plotting to seduce your brother will do that to you, Sam imagined.
Sighing, Sam fought to keep her gaze from drifting back to Lincoln but lost. She drank him in like crystal mountain water, her pussy and nipples aching in time. Her face blushed hot and scarlet and her heart pounded.
This was about Luna, she reminded herself, and Luna obviously wasn't ready to take the final plunge. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. Actually, flip that: The flesh was primed and ready to go but the spirit was a shy little girl who couldn't bring itself to claim what it wanted. It needed to be pushed. It needed...like, you know when a door's jammed closed and you have to wedge a crowbar into the gap between it and the frame? That's what it needed. And it needed lots of it apparently. Sam got it. Lincoln was her brother and he meant a lot to her, this was a hella risky proposition. Still...ugh, c'mon, girl.
Now Sam was fidgeting. Her damp panties clung to her swollen lips and her mind scrambled. She needed to come up with a new plan but right now, thinking was harder than third grade was for Leni (sorry, Leni). She bunched her lips to the side. She needed...she needed…
Her eyes landed on a little blue sign tacked to the wall. BATHROOMS read the white text. An arrow pointed in the direction of the main doors.
She didn't have a choice. She wasn't going to be able to get her head right until she got this monkey off her back.
"I gotta hit the little girls' room," she said, making both Luna and Lincoln start. Before they could reply, she turned and strode off, her stride deliberate and purposeful. Sexy thoughts chased after her, and she quickened her step. Can't catch...and ya caught me. Welp, I tried.
At the bathroom door, she looked suspiciously around like a burglar preparing to break and enter, then ducked in when she saw that the coast was clear. Inside, one of the fluorescent lights flickered overhead and shredded bits of toilet paper littered the tiled floor. Sam listened, then went to the far stall, checking each one on the way to make sure they were empty. She locked the door behind her, turned, and sucked her stomach in - she wasn't a big girl, but these jeans were crazy tight. She wore them because they made her butt look delicious.
Undoing the button, she wiggled her hips and slid them to her ankles, then her underwear. A puff of sultry heat rolled from between her legs, and the scent of her own passion perfumed the air. In her addled state, she couldn't tell if it was pleasant or repellant. Who salivates from their own pheromones?
She swallowed.
Apparently her.
The blonde sat on the cold toilet seat and spread her knees far apart. She was hot from head to toe now and her nipples throbbed in time with her unsteady heart. She licked her lips and slipped her hand between her thighs. She ran her middle finger teasingly between her slit and grimaced at the molten heat of her natural lubrication. Her breathing changed, becoming shallow, panting, and her stomach rumbled. She swallowed again and swirled her finger gently around the rim of her opening. Bursts and whorls of sensation broke over her and her breathing caught in her chest with a halting gasp. She move to her clit, rubbing a light circle over it. Tingles raced up her spine and her toes curled in pleasure.
Biting her lower lip, she went faster. She tossed her head to one side, moaned, then bit down on her knuckle to keep from crying out. She pictured Lincoln on top of her, ramming himself deep into her womb, and she let out a needy whimper that echoed in the confined space.
Sizzling fluid ran down the folds between her thighs and pussy and her fingers produced a sloppy squelching sound not unlike someone stepping in mud. She pulled her hand away from her mouth, thrust it up the front of her T-shirt, and clutched her pert breast. She pinched and tweaked it, pulling and twsiting, imagining Luna sucking it while her brother thrusted harder, faster, his precum minging with hers, their bodies engaging in a dance as old as time, give and take, his dick expanding, pushing her walls out, hot, aching, fuck.
Her orgasm hit her like a speeding bus and she cried out at the top of her lungs, her back arching sharply and her body shaking violently. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she plunged her index and middle fingers deep into her bucking pussy. She bore down on her teeth and thrust her hips back and forth, riding a dick that wasn't there and sucking pretend seed deep into her stomach. She whipped her head back and forth and opened her eyes to narrow slits, sweaty hair veiling her vision. She could almost see Lincoln's face screwing up in pleasure as his load spilled out of him, and that made her cum even harder.
Tingling warmth spread through her and for a while she sat there with her panties around her knees and her jeans pooled on the floor. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and basked in the hazy afterglow like a cat in a bar of sunshine.
Slowly, she came back to earth. The smell of stale piss and dirty toilets found her nose, and she became acutely aware of her juices drying on her inner thighs. In the heat of the moment, it was hot and sexy. Now it was just gross. And speaking of gross, she had seriously gotten herself so worked up she'd straight up jilled off in a public bathroom.
Keep on rockin', Sam Sharp.
She groaned, leaning over and grabbing a wad of toilet paper from the dispenser to clean up as best she could. The blonde stood, pulled her pants and underwear up, and smoothed out the front of her T-shirt. She listened for signs that someone had come in during her fun, and when she didn't hear any, she unlatched the door, eased it open, and poked her head out.
Nothing.
The girl at last slipped out, washed her hands, and dried them on a paper towel. Now that she had that off her chest, she could think a little better. She went over the facts in her mind with an almost zen-like, post-coital clarity. Luna was understandably apprehensive about this whole thing, and maybe she was right to be. Perhaps they should forget about it. Luna would go on yearning for Lincoln and Sam would go on yearning for Luna and Lincoln to bang, but they could live with that, couldn't they? It wouldn't be the end of the world. Nothing lost, nothing gained, right? It was a stalemate or whatever they call it.
Only Sam didn't want that and she knew that deep down, Luna didn't want it either. She wanted her brother to rut her like he just came home from boot camp after six months of not so much as even seeing a woman. She wanted it bad. And if Luna could just loosen up, she'd -
An idea stuck Sam like a bolt from the blue and she stiffened up. She turned it over in her mind a few times, as though looking for weak points. She found several, but none bad enough to convince her to leave it alone. There was merit to the approach that had just occurred to her, Sam was certain of it. The details still needed some work, but...In any case, for now the name of the game was to play it cool. No more of this trying to seduce Lincoln business. Nope. Until she put this final plan into action, she would play the dutiful sister-in-law and nothing more.
Decided, she balled up the paper towel, tossed it at the trash can, and left the bathroom. Back in the lobby, Lincoln and Luna had moved onto a glass case full of arrowheads and fragments of Native American pottery. Sam's sticky thighs rubbed against her jeans and she stopped twice on the way over to scratch. The last time, a fat woman passing by craned her neck and furrowed a disapproving brow. "How unladylike," she humphed.
I got your lady hanging, Sam thought but didn't say.
She caught up to Lincoln and Luna at the dinosaur exhibit. She fell in beside Lincoln, and to her chagrin, he cringed a little, as though he thought she was going to do something to him. Like jump his bones so hard they shattered, maybe?
Heh. Soon, pretty boy. But not today. "You guys almost done?" she asked. "I'm starving." Hers and Luna's gaze met behind Lincoln's back, and she glimpsed a flutter of uneasiness in her girlfriend's eyes.
"Not yet," Luna said, "uh...we haven't seen everything."
Poor, beknighted Luna didn't know that plans had changed. She thought Sam was going to force her into a three way the moment they left and was trying to stall. Tsk, tsk, tsk. "Alright," Sam said with a casual shrug. "Let's see the rest then."
For the next hour and a half, Sam followed Lincoln and Luna through all three of the museum's floors. They oohed at rocks, awwed at bones, creamed themselves with excitement over diagrams of prehistoric Detroit. By unspoken consent, Luna led the way, and as Sam half expected, she moved at the speed of delay. Sam was prepared to wait a little longer for what was to come, but she was not ready to spend all day in a museum looking at bones and ancient pieces of driftwood. History was cool and all, but she perfred the kind with people. You know, like battles and stuff. Once you went back to nothing but dinosaurs and plants, it got seriously boring and you lost her like a sock in the dryer.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, they came back to the main doors with nothing left to see. "Can we go eat now?" Sam asked. "I'm...really hungry."
She was going to say I'm food-horny, but she caught herself at the last second. Nope, bad Sam. Comments like that aren't going to help you achieve your goals here. You have to be clean, calm, cool, and very collected.
Neither Lincoln nor Luna could know.
Keeping Luna in the dark might be kind of messed up, but it was for everyone's own good. Bringing her in didn't get them where they needed to be the last time she did it, so Samantha Sharp had to go it alone. Not that she minded. They might call Lincoln the man with the plan, but he's not the only one who can hatch a strategy. All she'd needed to do was recalibrate her angle of attack.
A look of worry ran across Luna's face, and she looked at Lincoln. "You hungry, bro?" This time she sounded like she wanted to go out. That way they didn't have to go back to the apartment.
"Sure," Lincoln said, "I could eat."
"Let's go then," Sam chirped happily.
The museum sat on a tastefully manicured corner of Weston Avenue, a broad lane boasting fashionable shops, sidewalk cafes, and wrought iron lamp posts that always put Sam in mind of Victorian London for some reason (maybe she was murdered by Jack the Ripper in a past life). Men in suits and women in designer clothes and bug-eye sunglasses paraded up and down the street as if for an unseen audience and the cars parked at the curb looked like they cost more than she and Luna made in a year.
After a gruelling, two mile death march into a cheaper section of town, they settled on an Irish pub with an adjoining patio. Music filtered from unseen speakers and a waitress weaved between tables with trays of fish, corn beef and cabbage, and hamburgers. A perky blonde hostess with a ponytail hugged a stack of menus to her chest like a girl clutching her school books and marched them to a table in an out of the way corner cast in the shade of a leafy tree overhanging the iron gate. Warm wind caressed Sam's flushed face and food smells wrapped themselves around her like clouds of cartoon aroma.
The waitress put a menu in front of each of them and whipped an order pad out of her waist apron. She clicked her pen crazily, reminding Sam of an Old West gunslinger, and held it to the paper, her expression all business. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
Of course not. Duh. Who has a drink with their meal? "I'll take a Coke," Sam said.
Nodding, the waitress jotted that down, then turned to Luna, who for some strange reason looked like a deer in the headlights. "Uh...Coke too, I guess."
The waitress wrote Luna's order, then looked at Lincoln. "I'll have a Coke as well.'
"Three Cokes," the waitress said to herself, as though she'd forget otherwise. She clicked her pen closed and rushed off, her butt wiggling beneath her tight black pants.
Alone with her victims - err, coconspierers - Sam leaned back in her chair and blew a weary puff of air that stirred her blue tipped bangs. "Well, we managed to kill a few hours," she said and consulted the invisible watch on her wrist. "I say we go to Chuck E. Cheese after this."
Lincoln stared down at his unopened menu and Luna pretended to read the label on the table's resident bottle of ketchup. "Why?" she asked. "We're not kids."
"There's no age limit on fun," Sam pointed out, "and they have awesome games there. Like the one where you have to put out fires." She clucked her tongue and shot Luna a finger gun.
Luna frowned confusedly at the ketchup. Sam bet she was wondering why she wasn't rushing them back to the apartment to begin the fun. You're not twisting my arm? What gives?
Or maybe Sam had a guilty conscience or something. Who knew?
"Or we could go bowling," Sam offered. "Bowling's fun."
In actuality, Sam thought bowling was just okay. When you had a big group of people to do it with, it was different - competition and friendly ribbing makes everything fun. Bowling, however, was, to her knowledge, one of the few wholesome activities you can do in the city. Then again, she and Luna were homebodies when they weren't working, so she didn't know much.
Luna's eyes narrowed suspiciously and she looked up at Sam. "Uh..sure, that sounds fun."
What she actually wanted to say was You're not forcing this. Why? Of that, Sam was utterly convinced. "You like to bowl, Linc?" Sam asked.
Lincoln gave a jerky nod. "Yeah, yeah, bowling's fun." There was a slight tremor in his voice and it cracked on the word fun. "I like to bowl."
"Ten bucks says I'll beat you," Sam proclaimed. That was a risky proposition since she wasn't a very good bowler. Lincoln probably wasn't all that great himself, but he stood a real chance at beating her.
"I don't have ten bucks," Lincoln said. "I have to get paid first."
Sam shrugged. "Then owe it to me."
"I dont know…"
She smirked. "Unless you're chicken."
Lincoln opened his mouth, then lifted and lowered one shoulder. "Okay, fine."
The waitress came back with their drinks and sat them on the table. No one was ready to order yet so she gave them a few more minutes. When she was gone, Sam did a double take at Luna's glass. "Whoops, she gave you mine by mistake."
Luna's brow knitted. "They're literally the same -"
Ignoring her, Sam reached out, and Luna swatted her hand. "Get outta here," she said, "this is mine." A ghost of a smile traced the corners of her lips and her eyes twinkled like summer starlight. Sam leaned over to grab the cup, and Luna took it away. "Stop, dude. This isn't yours. It belongs to me."
"No, I'm telling you, it's mine. I ordered root beer."
Luna rolled her eyes. "No you didn't. I heard you. You ordered Coke. I ordered root beer."
"Oops," Sam said, playing along, "my mistake." She sat back against her chair, and grinned at Luna's expression.
"You're up to something." The brunette narrowed her eyes, sipping her soda possessively.
Sam innocently shook her head. "Nope, nothing." She crossed her legs, picked up her menu, and opened it. "Just gonna order some yummy food. I'm not still plotting to steal your drink or anything." She stole a look over her menu and Luna fondly shook her head.
Giving up on parting Luna with her Coke (for now), Sam scanned the laminant pages for something good. She and Luna had been here a few times in the past but she honestly couldn't remember what they served or even if it was good or not. The pictures showed typical bar stuff - burgers, chicken wings, pizza - but there was also an extensive selection labeled "sit-down meals." Pot roast, pasta, chicken parm, mussels, meatloaf, and lamb chops with mint sauce and sour cream.
Yuck.
Lincoln and Luna studied their menus with the careful deliberation of scholars examining ancient texts. Lincoln closed his first and sat it down, followed closely by Luna. "What're you guys getting?"
"Pasta," the said in unison, then glanced bemusedly at each other. "Does it remind you of Dad's?" Luna asked knowingly.
Lincoln chuckled and looked down at the table. "Yeah, it does," he said. "The picture looks a lot like it."
Oh? Sam found it in her own menu and frowned. It was literally egg noodles lightly drizzled in pale, sickly-looking marinara sauce. "Ew," she said and crinkled her nose, "your dad used to make this?"
Shamefaced, they both nodded. "Yeah, it wasn't the best," Luna said.
"But it's...it brings back memories,"Lincoln finished.
Aww. That was very sweet. Sam, however, preferred not dying of food poisoning, so she opted for a burger instead. The waitress made her way back over and took their food orders, then went off again, side-stepping two women sharing a friendly embrace in the middle of the patio and blocking the way. While they waited, Lincoln scrolled through his phone and Luna watched people passing by on the sidewalk. Sam sipped her Coke and stole surreptitious looks at Lincoln. A dirty thought started to form in her head but she quashed it like a pesky weed. If she entertained sexy thoughts, she'd get hot and bothered again, and getting hot and bothered at this juncture was not a good idea. She needed to be on top of her game, not a fevered, drooling mess indulging in fantasies of taking her girlfriend's brother into her mouth and slowly pumping his shaft...then drinking his thick, creamy seed like the good little -
Agh! She was doing it! She wrestled control of herself from the jaws of lust and took a drink of Coke as if to fortify herself. This wasn't going to be easy, was it? Of course it wasn't. The universe really wanted her to work for it.
Fine. Challenge accepted.
But how? She didn't want to come on too strong at not coming on strong. Time, that's what she needed, time. It wasn't going to happen overnight. How many days did Lincoln have left before he had to go back to school? Like, five, right?
She hummed thoughtfully and turned a new idea over and over in her mind. Okay. She was overthinking this.
Shortly, the food came and they all dug in. They chatted as they ate, and just as Sam was cramming the last of her burger into her mouth, her phone rang. She knew who it was even before she dug it out of her pocket.
Steve.
Her manager.
Great.
She answered it. "Hello?"
"Hey," Steve said, sounding winded, "I know you're off today but could you please, please, please come in? Jeff was a no call, no show and I've been doing everything by myself. I'm about to go postal. It'll only be a few hours."
Sam sighed.
Well...since her hands were kind of tied and she couldn't do much on the Lincoln and Luna front, going into work wasn't such a bad thing. At least it got her out of the apartment and focused on other things.
"Yeah," she unenthusiastically, hoping against hope that her tone would be enough to persuade him to let her off the hook, "I guess." She glanced over her shoulder. She was a good sixteen blocks from work, but it was a nice day and she didn't mind walking. That would take her...what...twenty minutes? "Give me half an hour."
"Alright," Steve said in a relieved rush, "thank you so much, I really appreciate it."
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Sam Sharp to the rescue yet again. "No problem," she said and hung up. Luna favored her with a quizzical look. "Steve," Sam answered. "I gotta go." She picked up a handful of fries, crammed them into her mouth, and washed them down with the last of her Coke.
Luna sagged in her chair. If Sam knew her (and she kind of did), she didn't want to be alone with Lincoln. Not now. "Who called out this time?" she asked bitterly.
"Jeff," Sam said.
"Of course it's Jeff."
Eighteen and fresh out of school, Jeff Simmons was talk, lanky, and dressed like Jamie Kennedy in Malibu's Most Wanted: Snapbacks, sagging shorts, wife beaters, fake gold chains he likely got from a grocery store vending machine (you know, the kind that come in a little plastic capsule that looks like something the Jetsons would fly around in). He was the kind of guy who came in late, did the absolute bare minimum, then left early and complained on his way out the door that he was tired from working so hard. He called out at least once a week and every so often, you'd look out the window and see him walking by. Like, dude, I thought you had Captain Trips, what gives? Sam had to pick up his slack a lot, and she may or may not have bitched about him to Luna a time or two.
"Kid's really pissing me off," Sam said and got to her feet. She stretched and let out a yawn. "I oughta say something to him."
"Don't do that," Luna cautioned.
Sam had been close to calling Jeff out for months but she could be kind of fiery sometimes and if she did she might wind up kicking him in his butt. "I'm gonna do it eventually." She patted her pockets to make sure she had everything, then sighed. "Alright, I'll see you guys later."
She came so close to saying behave while I'm gone that the words filled her mouth like a stinky belch, but she swallowed them down. She leaned over, kissed Luna's cheek, then hesitated before mussing Lincoln's hair. She didn't want to be too affectionate with the guy, but she also didn't want to pull back 100 percent. That'd look really suspicious. "Later, Linc," she said, "I'll kick your ass at bowling some other time."
"You can try," he grinned, finding himself surprisingly comforted by Sam's offhand tenderness.
"Uh-huh, keep talking," she said. She started off, then turned, grabbed Luna's Coke, and drank it. Luna pursed her lips and nodded to herself as if to say I should have seen that coming. "Love you," Sam said.
And on her way to work?
She plotted.
- 8
- 9
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Deviant Desires