Page 62 of The Bookbinder's Guide to Love

He hadn’t realized she had on a bodysuit until that moment. She put one hand on her hip and tossed her long curly hair as she watched him. He stepped closer, not sure he could think of anything but getting her naked, but the way she looked tonight was an image he’d always treasure. Reaching between their legs, he cupped her pussy. The fabric of the crotch was warm and moist, and he pushed it aside, touching her intimately. He shifted, reaching up to tug the bodysuit lower until her breast was exposed.

She put her hands on his head and pushed his mouth toward her breast. Then he felt one of her hands moving down, grazing his cock. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and moved up and down, rubbing her finger against the tip each time she got to the top. She made no apologies about wanting him and needing him. Her confidence stirred something deep and primal inside him.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth and let the sensation linger on his tongue. Her hand was stroking him into sexual oblivion where nothing existed except the two of them. The scent of her body as it got wetter and ready for him turned him on like nothing else ever had.

She was stroking him faster and harder, and he fondled her clit the way he knew she liked it. Her hips rocked against his hand; he thrust two fingers into her pussy and she let out a long, low moan. Using the tip of his cock, he rubbed it against her clit as her walls tightened around his fingers. Bringing her pleasure and watching her writhe against him was addictive. He needed it. He neededher—and not just in his arms like this. He struggled to put the feeling into perspective. But right now, with her coming, he pushed that worry aside.

He sucked harder on her nipple, pushing his fingers up as the sensation of her clit against the tip of his cock made him start to come at the same moment she called out his name and he felt her orgasm against his hand. He shifted his hips against her, coming until he was empty. Then he wrapped his arms around her. Not saying a word. Ready to stay for as long as she let him.

Sixteen

Valentine’s Day had never really been her sort of holiday. But since she’d met Liberty and Poppy, Sera found herself looking forward to it each year. They’d turned the holiday on its head and made it about all love, not romantic love. This year the party was going to be hosted in WiCKed Sisters and they’d opened it to anyone who wanted to attend.

They’d charged a nominal fee to pay for food and drinks and had created little party favors that included a crystal Liberty had charged at the last full moon with love vibes, Poppy’s No Time for Love tea, which she’d bagged herself, and a small 4x4-sized journal with a heart cut out where you could write a love intention.

Sera had hired Greer to help out with the binding and Wes had been teaching them how to make the simple journals. Mostly Greer had started out making the one twelve-page signature for each journal. Sera made the covers and Wes handled the binding. Wes thought Greer would be ready to start binding soon and they seemed enthusiastic about learning the bookmaking skill.

Greer was tall with a thick silky-looking beard and mustache and hair Sera was envious of. It hung around their shoulders in long, smooth waves. Their eye makeup was always on point and they dressed as the mood struck them. One day they were in a long sarong with a thick sweater, the next all flannel, giving them lumberjack vibes. Sera was happy with them at work.

And not just because of their help with the journals, which she was finally getting ahead on. But also because they were a nice presence between her and Wes. Wes had been sleeping over at hers and she at his place for the last ten days. Having a new coworker and friend had cut through the tension and kept her from overthinking so much, allowing her to relax and enjoy the passing days.

Sera still freaked out a little bit if she let herself think too much about dating Wes. So she was trying to go with the flow. Except that was contrary to everything she was. So while she was having fun and leaning into being more impulsive, her journal was full of doubts and fears.

She loved sleeping in Wes’s arms. He always pulled her close and she found comfort in both the warmth of his body pressed against hers and the soft, low sound of his occasional snores.

“Girl, stop staring at him,” Liberty said, coming up behind her.

“I can’t figure him out,” Sera said.

“The cards I drew for you said to resolve the past. Have you?”

“No.” She’d been ignoring that part. She’d just indulged in having her lover in her life almost 24/7 and let that sensuality take over.

“Do it,” Liberty said. “I’m starting to like you two together.”

“Me too,” Sera whispered and then turned her head into Liberty’s shoulder. “What am I going to do? I want to make future plans, but I’m not sure I’d trust them. What if he still wants to leave? Or wants me to follow him?”

Liberty put her hand under Sera’s chin, lifting it. “Trust yourself. And figure out what you haven’t resolved in your past.”

“Wow, is that all. I didn’t realize it would be so easy,” she said sarcastically.

Liberty laughed and shook her head. “Nothing worth having is easy.”

“I hate that platitude.”

“It’s not a platitude—it’s the truth,” Liberty pointed out, moving back toward her side of the shop, where she had set up some tarot card reading stations.

Sera walked over to Wes and Greer, who were chatting as she joined them. “I think we’re almost ready.”

“Definitely,” Greer said. “I invited my boyfriend to join us. His train was delayed, but he should be getting in soon.”

“Can’t wait to meet Riley,” Sera said. Greer asked to go and meet him at the station, and she affirmed she’d see them both later.

Wes finished the journal he was binding, setting it aside and turning to rest his back against the workbench. He drew her to him with his hands firmly on her hips. She’d worn a pair of red vegan leather leggings and a frothy white organza blouse that had red hearts all over it. She’d tried to tame her curls into a messy bun, but curls kept escaping at the back, which didn’t bother her the way it used to because Wes was always touching them.

Wes wore his habitual faded jeans that fit him in all the right ways and a red sweater he’d explained was his Christmas and Valentine’s one.

“Oz is coming,” Wes said as he settled her between his legs.

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