Page 130 of Don't Make Me Beg
“You’re safe, baby. Let go for me. I’ve got you. Let go for me, pretty girl. I’m right there with you.”
“Oh fuck, yes,” she cries out, her pussy clenching my cock in an almost painful grip. And then I’m falling too, right behind her.
We lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms as our breathing slowly returns to normal, and I’m once again in awe at how fucking lucky I am.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Scout
There’s a lightness in the air this morning, the crisp air somehow already smelling like fall overnight. I don’t know why, but the day after the festival seems to be the signal for the seasons to change. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.
This much-deserved, lazy Sunday is just what we needed after the hectic past few weeks leading up to the festival.
As I look around at the friendly faces, this quirky little town that raised me, I feel a sense of calm come over me. And there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I’m exactly where I need to be. I’ve been riding a high after seeing everyone’s reaction to the mural yesterday. I’d forgotten how good it feels to share my art, like I’m communicating in my native tongue, expressing myself in deeper ways than I could ever find words for.
I know that everyone won’t get it, and that’s okay, but the people who do make it all so much more fulfilling. I don’t know what’s next for me, but for the first time in my life, I’m okay with the unknown.
Luka sits across from me in our booth at Restaurant, looking as strikingly handsome and confident as always, but I can’t help but notice there’s something different about him this morning. I study him over my menu as Jett appears with a steaming pitcher of fresh coffee we never ordered.
“You have to try this French press.” He sets the pitcher in the center of the table, but instead of walking off like he normally would, he just stands there… awkwardly. Hovering.
Luka eyes him suspiciously, then finally takes his cue and pours himself a cup. “Mmm. That is a good cup of Joe,” he says as he takes a sip.
Jett nods in agreement. “It’s got a real earthiness to it, right?”
“That it does,” Luka agrees. He gives a few more awkward nods, then takes another sip as Jett just stands there.
“Is there something else you need or—?” Luka finally asks at the same time Jett says, “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry about… everything. And I actually think this mural is going to be good. Not just for my business but as an attraction.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it out for us to see. “There’s been quite an explosion on social media. Some big influencer was at the festival and posted about it. Apparently, our little town festival’s gone viral.” He scrolls down his notifications, showing the endless tags and comments.
This seems to drop Luka’s defenses. I see his posture relax as he takes another sip of coffee.
“Wow. That’s great, man. Glad it’s all working out.”
“It’s going to take me hours to go through all these messages,” he says, typing something on his phone. “If I’m this buried in notifications, I can’t imagine what you must be dealing with, Scout.”
My ears perk up at that, and Luka and I share a confused look. “What do you mean?”
He flips his phone to face me. “Just all the tags and comments you’re getting. I hope you have your notifications turned off because that would drive me crazy to have?—”
“What are you talking about?” Luka snatches Jett’s phone out of his hands, his eyes nearly popping out of his head as he scrolls. “Holy shit…”
“What?” My heart drops to my stomach as I open my purse and dig around for my phone. I finally find it buried at the bottom underneath all the random crap I still haven’t unpacked from the festival yesterday.
I click it on, my battery is barely at 10 percent, and I nearly fall out of my seat when I see the number of notifications. And not just on social media, but my email inbox has had an influx as well.
“Oh my God…” I find the original post, a shot of the mural at sunset, and I instantly feel my eyes well with tears.
It’s so hauntingly beautiful.
It feels like I’m seeing it for the first time, but from an outsider’s perspective.
I scroll through the comments and tags, all ranging from impressed to outraged, as people gush while others battle in the comment section over their own ideas of what makes somethinggood art.
“Are you saying you didn’t know?” Jett finally asks.
Luka and I stare back at each other, both clearly trying to wrap our heads around this.
