Page 5

Beryl

H uge men being soft had always been my Achilles heel. Kjartan’s mewl as I slicked my tongue over his made me want to drop to my knees at his feet.

He asked you for patience. Maybe I shouldn’t suck him off in my hallway three minutes later .

I rested one hand on his bulging bicep and the other on his broad back.

Light touching should be in line with me being patient as fuck.

Right?

I loved how he opened for me, surrendering his mouth to mine.

That didn’t make it any easier, though.

He felt so good under my hands.

I tried to remember the last time I had engaged in light petting and ran my fingernails down his back.

He purred like an overgrown cat and, because I loved being a bit of a tease, I stopped and pulled out of the kiss.

“No,” he whined, that pretty mouth in a pout. “Please keep touching me.” Kjartan nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. “It feels strange, but so good.”

I also hadn’t been blessed with the best sense of self control.

“Why has nobody touched you in so long?” I asked him as I ran my hand down his arm. Bulging muscles stretched the thin jumper close to its breaking point.

Relatable.

My pretty Orc hesitated.

“I find people scary. I’m mostly at work or at home, and I—” He broke off.

“You?” I prompted him.

“I haven’t met someone I wanted to touch me in a long time. But today I met you,” Kjartan added in a low whisper.

Damn .

The big cutie had social anxiety and hadn’t been with anyone in years by the sounds of it.

Patience means several dates. There is no way I’m getting laid tonight .

“Let’s sit down on my couch. Come on.”

I led him into my living room, still holding his hand. His thumb rubbed circles around my knuckles.

How is this so good?

I’d expected to be more upset about not getting any. I couldn’t remember why as I straddled his lap and we kissed. Kjartan and I made out for so long my lips were puffy and swollen.

“You are beautiful, Vindur,” he murmured, tracing my bottom lip with a thumb. “I need to get to the train station soon.”

“Yeah.” I kissed his fingertip.

“Just one more.” Kjartan brought my mouth back on his for a half open kiss.

Ugh .

I wanted him to strip my clothes and put me through the wringer. Yet the idea of doing things differently with him felt… right ?

Maybe he wants more than a one-night stand. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Can I have your phone number?” he asked me as he put on his boots.

“Yes, of course.”

I typed it into his smartphone and handed it back. Kjartan pocketed it, took hold of me, and had me up against the wall in a flash.

“Good night, Vindur,” he said, lips ghosting over mine with every word. Then he kissed me one last time.

I watched him limping down the street towards Kirkmuir’s central station.

No ‘See you soon’ or ‘Can I get a second date’.

I was never the one to fall in love. Rhys called me ‘flighty’, whatever that meant. Not that he was cut out for commitment.

Yet, I could imagine it all with Kjartan.

All the domestic bliss. When I closed my eyes, I saw us cooking dinner together and dancing in the kitchen, grinning at our own cheesiness but neither stopping nor letting go.

I wanted to kiss him while folding laundry and put on fresh sheets only to get them dirty straight away.

I bet we’d have fantastic, messy sex.

I will probably never see him again.