Page 125 of Pucking Obsessed

I’m caught safely tight between her thighs, my forever home.

I will spend the rest of my life dedicated to making this gorgeous woman happy. I will spend just as long hoping that she never shatters my heart.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Merchant’s Inn, Freedom

Robyn

“Surprise!”A loud chorus of voices cry from the closest booth, as I stroll into Merchant’s Inn.

I lose my footing on the sticky floor.

D’Angelo catches my elbow to steady me, before I can fall flat on my face.

“Wow, good acting,” Shay whispers into my ear.

Except, I’m not acting.

Normally, Neve does her gestures on a small-scale. The way that she showed she wanted to hang out with me at high school was by casually sitting next to me at lunch.

I still knew that we were best friends.

Neve didn’t make me a friendship bracelet, despite me designing her an emerald and silver one. Except, she’s still never taken it off.

I was expecting this birthday to be laid back with too much beer, possibly ending with dancing on tables (likely D’Angelo), and not…this.

It’s mid-week. It should be quieter in the bar, but instead, it’s heaving with people.

Merchant’s Inn is a rare safe space in Freedom with the added bonus of cheap alcohol, loud rock, and a couple of rooms for travelers.

The locals love this old, grungy slice of town with its dance floor and stained wooden walls that are covered with paintings of Emo bands like a shrine.

Freedom is a town with two sides: the wealthy, including the tourists, and those who are struggling but working hard. Merchant’s Inn is at the heart of the working side of town.

Neve owns Merchant’s Inn.

She’s a success, despite being thrown out by her parents for simply being herself.

For being bisexual.

I love that someone who was once the outcast is now the heart of the town.

Neve is fucking tough. Everybody needs a friend who they can rely on to cut off someone’s dick for them.

She offers that a lot. Actually, frequently about D’Angelo’s dick .

But tonight, Neve has turned Merchant’s Inn into a Goth party room formybirthday.

A black and silver banner swings over the bar:HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY, ROBYN HOOD!

The entire room has been decorated with luminous LED balloons that glow in the dark. They look like floating ghosts. Curtains of lights fall from the walls.

Black and white balloons arch over the booth, which is covered in silver glitter.

My nose scrunches up at the scent of smoke and stale beer. “This is…”

“Like the Crow’s birthday,” Shay says, excitedly. “Cool.”

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