Page 74 of The Fractured
“What are you doing?”
“Sit down, Lily.”
I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I know people do this all the time, but aren’t you worried about not breathing? Should I hover?”
“Lily.” His voice was husky. “I wanna fuck you with my tongue until all I can taste is you. Breathing can come into the equation later. Sit on my face.”
Hot and bothered, I hesitated.
“Sit on my face, please?”
I bit my lip and carefully lowered myself.
Dean brushed his nose against my clit as he half smiled, happy to have gotten his way, before he spread me with his thumbs and proceeded to drive me crazy. A good kind of crazy, as his tongue did things that caused my legs to tremble.
“Huh,” I breathed in surprise, smiling in a pleasure-filled daze as my fingers threaded through his hair. My other hand remained on the back of the couch, gripping it tightly as I fought the urge to roll my hips. I didn’t want to completely suffocate him, even if he said otherwise. Dean knew this. He gripped my hips and coaxed me into rocking them, nodding with encouragement as he feasted on my pleasure.
I gripped the couch with both hands again and rocked my hips.
My walls tightened, and my body shuddered. I was about to orgasm, all over his face. Then, when I thought I might explode, Dean plunged his fingers into me again, forcing my climax to rush forward.
He wrapped his arm around my quaking thigh and pressed his thumb to my clit.
My eyes rolled back and my mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Instead, I buried my nails into the couch as my orgasm reached its peak, flooding my system with warmth and electricity as it obliterated my worries from earlier.
Chapter 27
Kira
I worked at the Green Thumbs Florist and Garden Center, Monday to Friday, from midday to 4 PM.
Being surrounded by so many beautiful plants and given the opportunity to live in my element for a few hours a day always made every weekday so much better.
The plants had provided a distraction during the confusing and brief time Seb stopped talking with me. Now that I knew the reason for that, working with the plants was less of a distraction and more of a pleasant few hours a day again.
Pulling several dried leaves from my ponytail — I had spent the last thirty minutes of my shift removing the dead leaves on several large house plants — I neared the apartment door. Once inside, with my hessian bag slung over my shoulder, I yawned, but then stifled it when I heard heavy breathing.
And then a humming and a thud.
“Lily? Are you home?” She started work at 8 AM and finished at 4 PM, like me, but there was no way she could’ve gotten home earlier than me. The garden center was closer to our apartmentthan the Whitmore real estate agency by a few blocks. I had also seen her leave for work this morning.
“Y-Yeah. I’m home,” she responded, breathlessly.
I blinked, pausing in the hallway. I couldn’t help the smile on my face. “Why do you sound puffed? Are you decent? Should I leave?”
She huffed a laugh. “I’m decent, but struggling.”
I continued into the living room and discovered why she was breathless. She was shuffling a brand-new, four-tiered shelf up against the living room window. The frame was an off-white, matching the apartment walls, and the shelves were light brown timber. There was no backing board on it, so once it was up against the window, the sunlight filtered through it and into the living room.
“I thought the plants could use some new shelf space.” She dusted off her hands. Her hair was in a bun that was close to falling out, and she wore a baggy T-shirt and a pair of old jeans. She placed her hands on her hips and smiled at me.
I happily walked over to examine the shelf. “It’s perfect. But how did you get it up here?”
“It was a self-assemble.” She gestured to the mess of spare screws, wooden dowel pieces, and Allen keys on the floor beside a crumpled instruction sheet. “I had it delivered… I’ll leave it to you to arrange the plants on it because I’m not sure which ones like more light than the others.”
I admired the shelf for a moment before I turned to Lily as she headed into the kitchen. “How was your appointment?”
She was filling up a glass at the sink. “Hm?”
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