Page 14 of Shadows in Bloom

A fact I really shouldn’t overlook like I am.

“Yes,” she whispers.

My teeth skim her pulse point as my thumb presses against her clit. “Yes… what, little one? Tell me.”

“S-shit.” Her head drops against mine. “Please—please… touch me.” I pull her back so I can have her mouth again. She gasps at the twine of our tongues, tasting of salt and longing, as I slip my hand beneath the edge of her panties.

Jamie’s center is hot as I touch her, fingers trailing through the soft hair over her mound. Her gyrating hips falter when I rub her clit slowly, getting a feel for what she likes. My mouth is hot on her chest as I lick across her flesh, pressing kisses and sucking marks, connecting each freckle with a trail of saliva.

When I apply more pressure but keep my movement slow, she jerks, and her nails sink into my neck. And when I speed up, she starts to pull away.

I smile against her boob, licking her nipple before pulling it into my mouth with soft suction as my fingers curl and sink into her. “Oh, mmm,” she moans loudly—and I’m on fucking fire. My pussy throbs as Jamie writhes on top of me, lost in ecstasy.

My right hand finds rest on her hip, squeezing tightly as I slowly push her back. She gasps when she falls, hair splayed wildly across her face. I pull my fingers from her as I brush it away. Then, I drag her panties down, leaving them dangling from one ankle as I bend down and bury my face against her core.

My eyes roll back when her taste invades all of my senses, tongue flexing as I drag it over her clit, groaning when it twitches.

“Oh, shit.” Her legs spread even wider, her left bumping against the back of the couch. I blindly reach for her ankle, sliding it over my shoulder while her right foot falls helplessly to the floor.

Feeling the muscles in her thigh flutter and contract against the side of my face only makes me hotter. I moan as I suck on her clit, pressing my middle finger inside her. Her walls squeeze around me, soft and warm as I thrust slowly, reveling in every twitch, every moan, every shuddering exhale she can’t control.

Her fingers eventually find their way into my hair again, and when I lightly nip her in encouragement, she makes two fists and yanks. I pull away with a gasp, meeting Jamie’s gaze between her legs. “That’s it, little one,” I praise her as I sink another finger in, twisting my hand to drag them against her walls. Jamie’s head falls back, mouth open wide as she squeezes around me. And as much as I could stare at her while she looks like this—forever—I’m drawn back down by her hands, a smirk of amusement in place as Jamie pulls me between her legs.

I lick her hard but slow, which seems to be just what she likes, and it doesn’t take long for her legs to shake, her walls clamping around my fingers.

“Oh—Oh, my god,” she gasps, like she’s surprised by the way her body is responding. “I’m gonna come.” Her thighs clamp around my face, all of her muscles tightening as her back starts to arch, and I nearly lose my fucking mind when she comes, loudly and wildly and perfectly unrestrained.

Her clit twitches against my tongue as I slow, working her through the convulsive aftershocks, through every small twitch and little grunt. I’m much slower to remove my fingers, slightly resentful I didn’t drag this out longer, didn’t try to draw a second orgasm from her. But then, Jamie sighs softly, and I just feel so fucking good. My own throbbing core is nothing but a circumambient sensation as I watch Jamie come back to herself, albeit very slowly. She blinks a few times, and when our eyes meet, she flushes before looking down.

“Do—should I…”

I shake my head and huff a soft laugh as I crawl up her body and press a chaste kiss to her lips. “I’m good.”

She pulls back, brows knitted. “Are you sure?”

“Mmhmm,” I murmur against her mouth. She parts her lips, allowing me to slip my tongue between them, pulling a surprised hum from me as we share her taste, kissing slowly, lazily, as exhaustion bleeds into Jamie’s body.

After a few minutes, I pull away, tongue pressed against my cheek. My legs shake as I stand, a feeling I brush off as I reach up and grab the throw blanket off the back of the couch to lay it across Jamie’s naked body. She blinks sleepily up at me with a smile, eyelids nearly closed, and it’s that look on her face—that smallest fucking reminder of her overindulgence—that twists my stomach into a tight knot.

But it’s not regret—could never be that; it’s worry. That this, us, won’t happen again. That she’ll run because she’s scared, and I’ll still be here, caught somewhere in the middle, constantly living on the precipice.

I caress her cheek. “Get some sleep, little one.” She leans into my touch as her eyes close, and not thirty seconds later, her breathing evens out into a soft snore.

After placing a trash can beside the couch—just in case—and a bottle of water on the coffee table, I grab her discarded clothes and my shirt to start a load of laundry before jumping in the shower.

The water is cool against my back as I wash my hair before I slide my fingers down to my pussy, still throbbing from earlier. My head rolls as I play with my clit, pinching and rubbing harshly, needing it to hurt just a little.

And it’s the taste of Jamie still on my tongue and the vivid picture of her body convulsing under me that takes me over the edge. The tidal wave of searing warmth burns through my veins, and my eyes roll back as I shudder. It’s strong but short as it rushes through me, eliciting a rough groan as my head drops against my shoulder.

After I gain my bearings, I rush through the rest of my shower to get back to Jamie.

Dressed in shorts and a tank with my thick hair wrapped in a towel, I walk back into the living room—and when my eyes catch on the door, I realize I never fucking locked it.

That thought leeches all warmth from my body, chilling me to the bone. I tiptoe through the small living room and into the kitchen, eyes wide as they dart around. Nothing’s out of place. It’s quiet—apart from Jamie’s snoring, which inadvertently brings a smile to my face, despite the way my heart is galloping, twisted in fear.

I peek around the pantry cupboard, eyes fluttering in relief when I come up empty. My trip back through the living room is much quicker as I round on the door and lean forward to peer through the peephole before flipping the deadbolt, followed by the doorknob lock, and then, I slide the chain into place above.

When the rattling chain settles against the wood, I drop my head against it and allow the shallowest sense of security to wash over me, to ease some of the unsteady anxiety.

---