Page 77 of Oleander
We both ignore the drunk asshole until he goes away. We’re in our own world right now. Nothing but Skyler’s pleasure for me to focus on.
I’m here to worship him.
I peel my lips from his hard cock. “Look at me,” I demand, and Skyler’s ice-blue eyes pop open, staring down at me with an arousing intensity that intoxicates me further. “Watch me suck your cock. Watch me make you come.”
Skyler whimpers, never once taking his eyes off mine. I suck him like our lives depend on it, pulling every last drop of cum from him as he shouts my name. His cries of passion echo off thecold tile, but neither of us cares if the asshole on the other side of the door or even if the entire bar hears us.
“Wow,” is all Skyler says, still slumped against the cold, metal door.
I stagger to my feet, nearly tipping over as the blood rushes to my head and my vision goes black. I stumble to the sink, gripping the edge and leaning forward to peer into the mirror. Swollen red lips, pale skin, and dark circles under my eyes. I overdid it tonight for certain, and my magic is nearly drained, but I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
We’ve accomplished so much tonight, but I’m beyond ready to leave this place. “Let’s go home.” I hold my palm out, waiting, and he doesn’t leave me hanging, placing his rough hand in my own and squeezing tightly.
“Home,” he echoes with a dopey, satisfied smile that I return easily.
Time to find our designated driver, Zephyr, and hope that he has gas in his car this time. I’m not sure I’ll survive another unplanned disaster in the woods. We need smooth sailing and sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SKYLER
The afternoon sun shines through my curtains, pulling me from the deep, restorative slumber I was cocooned in. I open my eyes to the best of my ability, with one of them slightly swollen and a busted eyebrow. Regardless of the excessive amount of hours I slept, I still feel hungover and sore.
Not a good combination.
The wound on my neck pulls painfully, as does my eyebrow when I stretch and yawn. I need more of Ander’s homemade salve. Maybe I can take the jar and use it on the hellhound scratch currently burning a hole into my ribcage.
Fuck.
I amble into the kitchen and grab a baggie, filling it with ice to dull the raging inferno on my side. Just as I’m filling a second bag for my eyebrow, two nimble arms wrap around me, brushing against the hellhound scratch and causing stabbing agony to shoot up and down the entire side of my torso.
I can’t stop the pained whimper from escaping my lips, and Oleander immediately lets go and steps back. “I’m so sorry. Did I bump your eyebrow somehow? Your neck?” His lavender eyes ping pong between mine, and I instantly feel guilty knowing I’m going to lie to him.
As soon as the excruciating pain somewhat subsides, I choke out a single, strained word. “Neck.”
Lie.Although it hurts, too.
But he doesn’t need to worry; he’s been through enough because of me. I can handle this one on my own. I just need to get my hands on his miracle salve.
“Sorry, Sky. Here, let me help you with those.” Ander fusses over me, filling the second bag with ice and grabbing two soft hand towels to wrap them in. “Here. This should help the swelling in your eye, as well as the pain in your neck. Ten minutes on, ten minutes off.”
“Thanks, doc,” I joke, even though I’m sweating through the nausea churning in my stomach. I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth. The pain is intense, and I hope I’m sufficiently hiding it. “Hey, can I borrow that salve? I’ve got a few other bruises and thought it would help with my eyebrow.”
“Yes, of course. Let me grab it. I can help you apply it. Just lie back on the bed and take your clothes off.”
An unusual panic rushes through me at the thought of taking my clothes off. I’ve never felt this way before, and it’s not because I feel any shame about my body. “No. I can do it.”
He can’t see the hellhound scratch on my side.
Ander’s brows crease in confusion. We’ve been so open with each other and become about as close as two people can be. “Sky. . .”
Ihatethe worried tone of his voice. “I can handle it myself. I just need to borrow the cream.”
Or so I tell myself.
“Very well, one moment.” Oleander doesn’t look convinced, but he respects my wishes and leaves to get it. I sigh in relief, hoping it works and that I’ve made the right decision in keeping this from him.
“Oleander Sage Sauveterre.”
