Page 77 of Born for Lace

He chuckles darkly. “You can guard your soft heart, but your pussy will weep with pleasure when I touch it. The monster inside me will come for you, little flower, and it’ll claim every inch of your purity. Are you sure you want that?”

I squirm on the mattress, uncomfortable, wet heat gathering in my knickers. I’ll do anything for that.

Anything.

I breathe the word, “Yes.”

And then he slides out from under me, leaving me bent over an empty space that vibrates with his warmth and scent.

Intoxicated by my first kiss with Lagos, I slowly straighten and open my eyes to the shadowy room.Oh, my;he woke up. He woke up! He woke up while I was stealing a kiss. Mortified, I imagine dissolving into the mattress, a puddle of silly goo.

And now he’s leaving?

He didn’t want that.

Rejection washes over me.

I search the cluttered, dimly lit room to find Tomar a sleeping silhouette in the corner, and Lagos pulling his jeans on.

His huge length slaps his abdomen as he has to physically tuck it in to get the zip over it. A rock-hard outline forms. It is any surprise that it doesn’t tear the seams.

I can sew…

I could fix that.

If it did.

Groaning at my silly thoughts, I cup my forehead. I have a fever. I’m sick. Hot. Clammy. Help.

Questions churn in my mind but don’t find their way out. Why… Why are you leaving the room?Whoare you going to see? Did I put him inthe mood? The one Sweets spoke about.

“Lagos?” is all I end on.

“Where are you going?” Tomar is sitting up in the dark, and I instinctively drop to my spine. Pain slides between my ribs like a knife through butter. I cry out and cup the area.

“Are you okay?” Tomar asks.

“Flower…” Lagos pauses by the door, looking like he is about to lunge for me, but then Spero starts to fuss, and Tomar is sleepily standing.

“I’m okay.” I cut the air between us with my hand, defensive. Lagos was going to leave. He should just go.

He stills. Stares.

“Out,” he finally answers Tomar, disappearing from the room, leavingmewith a pool of need between my thighs, perspiration misting my skin, and the hammering of neglect crushing my chest into my lungs.

“I’ll feed him.” Tomar rubs his hand down his face, ambling over to me. “You can get some more sleep, Dahlia. We have a long drive tomorrow, and you look wrecked.”

Wrecked.

That’s a very accurate word.

ChapterTwenty-Three

Lagos

Raging for a fuck after feeling her hesitant lips on mine, tasting that sweet, young breath inside my mouth, I storm from the roadhouse and out into the deadly Redwind with no more than an upward glance at the low-life patrons of this cast-out roadhouse.

We stop here because it is where I belong, with the broken women and the vile men. We were not meant to stop here this time. This… This slum is not the place for a girl like my little flower.

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