Page 79 of Our Long Days
Then, my brain liquifies at his next move. He slips out of me, his fingers replacing his cock, and he fucks his release back into me, just like he did at the campsite.
Eyes pinning me in place, jaw slack, he speaks into my flushed skin. “We can’t waste a drop.”
He’s addictive, and after two days apart, it’s clear withdrawal was setting in. Dex withdraws his hand, and with his other, he carefully removes my panties from my mouth.
“You okay?” he whispers, watching me in the mirror.
I smile at him, wrapping my fingers around his wrist as he caresses my jaw. “I’m perfect. Thank you.”
He chokes on a laugh. “Thank you?”
“I said what I said.” A tired sigh leaves me. “Dinner is over, and I’m pretty sure you’ve fucked me into a solid eight hours. Can you take me home?”
His seriousness melts into something new, something I can’t pinpoint. It looks good on him, whatever it is. “Go make your excuses. I’ll be in the truck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
dexter
Over the next two weeks,our routine changes.
During working hours, we’re the epitome of professional. Florence conquers whatever tasks she’s set, and we maintain a healthy distance between us during site visits and video calls.
When the clock strikes five o’clock, she’s mine.
Just yesterday, she appeared in the doorway of my workshop, eyes gleaming with mischief at 4:58 p.m.. Three minutes later, she was bent over the workbench, screaming my name as I fucked her from behind.
I’ve had casual partners in the past, but sex was more of a stress reliever.
With Florence, nothing satisfies the craving. I want more of her time, her body, her mind.
And the more I want, the less I can put off the inevitable conversation.
Things between her brothers are tense. Patrick hasn’t mentioned anything about his sister’s speech at dinner the other week, and he’s stopped asking questions about her work performance. Florence went through the motions of being guilty and angry with them. Her current mindset is pretendingit didn’t happen, though I know she wants to clear the air soon.
Tucking my gloves into my back pocket, I step out on my front porch and spy Florence kneeling in the grass. The goats prance around her, jumping out of her reach every time she surges forward to catch them.
It makes my chest ache.
Florence is a wild thing, covered in dirt, barefoot, with bruises on her knees. A chaotic mind that cares immensely. An alluring beauty. Like nature, she’s unpredictable, a force to be reckoned with. Beyond that, there’s enchantment. You’d miss it if you’re not looking hard enough.
There’s no missing her.
As I make my way over, her laughter filters in.
More. More. More.My heart demands.
Less. Less. Less.My brain commands.
What if, one day, you can’t hear it?
A constant war rages within me. Perhaps that’s what the ache is. Bullets and shrapnel ricochet through my body. My brain usually wins, stopping me from truly declaring her as mine. Keeping our relationship a secret cannot be long-term, but the idea of discussing a future petrifies me.
Today, my heart comes out victorious, allowing me to soak up the moment.
“What are you doing?” I crouch in front of her, tucking her hair behind her ear.
She blows out a breath. “I’m tired of them sneaking up on me and then fainting. So, I’ve come up with a solution.” She shakes a small bell. My hearing aid emits feedback, and my hand shoots up to adjust the device.
