Page 4 of Extraction Play

“So, what did you think?” Pixie asked, brimming with excitement.

Eva wrinkled her nose. “Not for me. Do people actually drink that for enjoyment?”

Pixie snorted. “Fine, more balls for me.”

Eva lifted a brow. “If that’s what you like.” Pixie hadn’t stated her sexuality, but the way she flirted with everyone universally had given Eva bi or pan vibes. Maybe that had just been wishful thinking on her part.

Which shouldn’t even have been a thought, because she was leaving, and Pixie was Micah’s best friend.

Pixie’s lashes fluttered, and her coquettish grin was pure seduction. “Not solely.”

Eva licked her lips as the spark of attraction flared brighter. “Duly noted.”

“Though if you want to drink the tea, I’ll happily handle all the balls afterward.” Pixie’s eyes sparkled with pure cheekiness.

Eva let everything drift away. For the first time since the bullshit with Jack and Sienna had gone down, she wasn’t mired in the past, stuck in her mind. Tonight, she was in the company of a beautiful girl, drinking weird-as-fuck tea, with soothing lo-fi bumping in the background.

Tonight, she could take the first steps toward healing.

Chapter Two

The tantalizing scent of bacon summoned Pixie from her room.

Last night she’d planned on staying up late due to getting fucked and filled and teased at the club until she couldn’t take anymore. Instead, she’d spent hours with Eva, drinking boba and talking about everything from favorite music—classical and Europop, thank you—to what high school stereotypes they’d been. Eva had been valedictorian, shocker, and Pixie had been the art kid. And when they’d gotten home, a restlessness percolated through her veins she knew not to ignore.

So she’d escaped to her studio room, brought out her paints, and took to the canvas.

The colors and shapes had poured out of her on the blank space, all trying to capture imprints of the experience. Despite their focus on thesuperficial, she’d felt an ease around Eva that was rare. The woman’s clear dominant streak had Pixie looking in her direction from the moment they’d met, but she didn’t get overbearing. Simply playful in a sarcastic yet serious way.

Splashes of fingers digging into the earth, strong arms on a canvas. Yet storms lingered in the background, heady and full, bruises from the past and future. It was all cyclical.

The piece was a long way from being finished, but she’d lost track of the hours, completely sunken into the zone of creation, something that had been elusive lately.

The wake-up this morning, however, was a rough one. Whoever romanticized the whole artist experience of all euphoria had never experienced the full-body aches the day after from hunching over a canvas for hours. Sure, during was great, but afterward, she paid the consequences.

Pixie peeled herself out of bed, following the lure of bacon.

When her hand landed on the doorknob, her nose wrinkled. She had done a shit job of cleaning herself up. Navy blue and brown streaks stained her fingers.

But bacon.

She stepped out of her room and trudged down the hallway. The hardwood was cold under her bare feet, but she couldn’t stop now. When she emerged into the main area, her gaze landed on the culprit.

Eva stood at the stove, preparing the bacon, which sizzled and popped in the skillet. However, Pixie’s gaze wasn’t on that—no, it glued to the pajama set she wore. The sage-green pants were high-waisted but cut off right at the curves of her ass, and the matching lace camisole showcased her perky nipples, those handful of tits mouthwatering. With her auburn waves pulled backand coiled into a tight bun, not a wisp out of place, and her sharp features, she looked like a sexy librarian or disciplinarian.

Ungh. Her kryptonite.

When Eva glanced at her, Pixie lifted her hand in greeting, trying to smother the loud thump, thump, thump of her heart.

“Hungry?” she asked. “I brewed coffee and figured you might want some breakfast, so I made extra.”

“Does a bear shit in the wind?”

Eva snorted. “Probably not the wind but definitely the woods.”

“No Micah?”

“Nah, he stayed over at his boyfriend’s house.”

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