Page 100 of Roses in Summer

“But I should have known, ciern. I should have fucking guessed that you wouldn’t go back to that asshole because you were insecure. I knew you, Seraphina. I know you have thorns and a bite to you. I should have fucking known and said something, done something, but I didn’t. I let you go without a fight.”

“Lincoln,” she whispers, the tension from her body falling away as she sags against me, pressing our chests together once again. “You couldn’t have done anything to change what happened.”

“I could have helped you save yourself.”

Her head shakes against my shoulder, her long brown hair swishing as she moves, but she doesn’t contradict me or say anything else. There’s a strength in asking for help, for not assuming all responsibility for being your own savior. Seraphina didn’t know how to ask for it when we first met, but she better know that anything she faces now, it’s not alone. It’s with me next to her, in front of her, behind her, or wherever the fuck she’ll allow me to be, as long as it’s with her.

38

Serphina

“We should go,” Lincoln mutters into my hair. It’s been at least ten minutes since we both came, but I haven’t moved off him or his now-soft cock. Part of it is because my new favorite place to be is tied up in him, but the larger part is that as soon as I stand and our bodies disconnect, the reality of where we are and what he just told me about Mitch will come flooding back, and that’s a scary thought.

A terrifying one, in fact.

But I can’t deny that Lincoln is right, and we need to clean ourselves up, and I need to round up the dignity that I seem to have left on the first floor of the library.

Lifting myself from his lap, I slide off and let my feet and skirt fall to the floor. I wince at the flood of cum dripping down my legs and rub my thighs together at the sticky mess, probably making it worse. “This is disgusting.” I moan, this time not in pleasure but in embarrassment that I’ll need to walk back downstairs with a mixture of me and Lincoln between my legs.

“Ciern, my cock is getting hard just thinking about my cum dripping from your pussy, so unless you want me to bend you over this table and fuck you again, stop talking about it.”

“We can’t do it again.” I lower my voice, whispering as though it makes a difference at this point. “I can’t believe we did it in the first place.”

“You’re an exhibitionist, Seraphina. What do you expect?”

“I— No. What?” My mind reels from his words, and I can’t help but feel like he should be wrong, but maybe he’s right? I love porn, the intimate scenes depicting real couples in passionate displays, not the heavily edited scenes that are so unrealistic, they’re comical. Could it be that what I find so sexy about those moments isn’t watching the lovers on-screen but the thought of me being in their position being watched?

“I fucking love that you’re not afraid to ride my cock in a secluded corner of the library or let me finger-fuck your pussy in an alley, but you know damn well I wouldn’t let anyone actually see your body without your consent. Even then, I think I’d go fucking feral if anyone saw you the way I see you.”

I roll my eyes at his possessive explanation. Fixing my tank top, I shoot him an incredulous look. “It’s not as though I was a virgin all these years.”

“You worked those fuckboys out of your system—nothing wrong with that. But now? You’re mine, ciern. The same way I’m yours.”

“It wasn’t just boys,” I whisper, looking down at my hands, unsure how he’ll take the knowledge that I’ve experimented outside of the traditional heteronormative expectations he has. I hear his body shift on the seat a moment before his hand reaches out, palming my cheek and forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Men, women, nonbinary, I don’t give a shit. You experimented, you worked that shit out of your system and found what you liked and didn’t like. But do you know what remains the truth? You’ve never come so hard as you do on my cock, my fingers, and my tongue. You’ve never experienced pleasure like what we do together, and your heart is mine. Just like I’m yours. Unless one of those assholes hurt you and I need to dispose of a body, you don’t need to tell me about anything you’ve done. I don’t judge you. Hell, I’ve done a shit ton of experimenting too. Yeah, they may have been all women, but I tested my limits the same way you have.

“You want to try something new, you try it with me. You want to get off to porn and fuck yourself under your covers? I want to watch that shit and clean your pussy up after you come. Any fantasy you have, let me make it come true.”

“What if I want to peg you?” I joke, teasing him in an attempt to dispel the intensity.

“Then buy a fucking strap-on. Nothing is off-limits except one thing: I don’t fucking share. It’s you and me, Seraphina. That’s it.”

My eyes widen at his statement, and I immediately shake my head. “I don’t want to do that. I was just joking.”

“Good, because I’m not particularly into that, but for you, I’d try it. I need you to understand something, Seraphina. When I say I love you, I mean all of you. The past, the present, the future. The dirty little kinks you keep hidden and the way you like the idea of being caught, even if you don’t want people to actually watch. Every damn thing about you is loveable, Seraphina, and I’m all in.”

Tears well in my eyes at his words, and I nod my head, moving his palm up and down with my movements. “I love you too.” My voice is soft, but there’s conviction behind it. With Lincoln, I can be flawed. I can be a mess. I can be quiet and inquisitive, observant and introspective. I don’t need to be the perfect Seraphina, the one who tried to keep it all together and fell victim to martyr syndrome.

I can just be.

“I know, ciern. Now come on, let’s get you home before Ms. Frizzle comes up here and kicks my ass for defiling you in her sacred little library.”

I swat at his extended arm, rolling my eyes at his words. “Stop calling May Ms. Frizzle.”

“Tell me that she doesn’t look and act like an older version of her. She even has the weird clothes she wears.”

“She is a stylish baby boomer. But you’re right. We need to go before someone sees us.”

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