Page 9 of Love Harvested on Thanksgiving
“Shhh.” The sound is low and commanding. And a single calloused fingertip presses against my lips.
My legs shake as they dangle off the counter.Why am I letting this happen? Why do I… want this?
His palm presses against my chest, guiding me down until my back is flush with the counter beneath me.
His hands grip the backside of my knees, lifting my thighs and spreading my legs wide. He doesn’t say a word before plunging the thick cucumber deep into my throbbing core.
A moan tears from my throat as Finley rapidly slams the makeshift dildo into me over and over. His thumb finds my clit, and I nearly unravel as he moves in small fast circles.
My body arches and my muscles tense as the pressure builds. He moves faster, harder and I have to focus to keep the screams inside.
Just as I reach the edge of pleasure—my vision blurs, the space around me twists and warps.
I jolt awake. Darkness swallows the room—my room, my bed. Sweat clings to the mattress beneath me. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my heart pounding, cheeks burning. It was a dream.
Of course it was a dream.
In what universe would Finley the farmer fuck me with a cucumber. And in what universe would Ilethim.
I grab my phone from the nightstand. 4:57 a.m. Rolling over, I pull the blankets tighter and close my eyes.
My kitchen looks like the dessert table at a county fair exploded. The counter is lined with pumpkin cheesecakes, apple fritter loaves, and a dozen other half-baked ideas I couldn’t stop myself from testing out.
Opal twirls the stem of her wine glass, eyeing the spread before her. “If this is what a girl’s night out looks like, sign me up every week.”
Nova leans on the counter, already fork in hand. “I’ll take this over a sweaty dance floor any day.” She sinks her fork into a cheesecake and lets out a dramatic groan. “Oh my god, Alex. If you don’t win the festival, the judges need a mental evaluation.”
I laugh, taking a sip of my pumpkin cider. “So, what do we think?” I ask, leaning against the counter with my can in hand, watching them with mouths full.
Nova doesn’t even bother swallowing before pointing her fork at the cheesecake, cheeks bulging with the dessert. She nods furiously, eyes closing in bliss.
Opal stacks her plate with more apple crumble. “I vote all of them. Enter every single one.”
I roll my eyes, laughing “That’s not helpful, I can’t enter six desserts, I’ll look insane.”
Nova sets her fork down and leans back in her chair, her wine glass swirling lazily in her hand. She shoots a curious look at Opal. “So… how are things with your masked man?”
Opal’s cheeks turn pink, but she doesn’t hesitate. “Great,” she says simply, lips curving into a soft, satisfied smile.
Nova groans dramatically and takes a long sip of her wine. “I’m gladsomeonegot something good out of that party. All I got was ghosted the next morning.”
I raise my can in salute. “Hey, same here.”
Opal laughs turning back to Nova. “Please. The way that goddess costume looked on you—you could have hadanyonein that mansion.”
Nova snorts and waves her hand. “Apparently, I picked the wrong magician. All he knew were disappearing acts.”
I can’t help but laugh, nearly choking on my cider. “Have you read any of the books I’ve loaned you?”
Nova looks instantly guilty. Her dark curls bounce around her face as she tucks one behind her ear, tawny skin catching the soft kitchen light. Her caramel-colored eyes, framed by long lashes avoid my gaze. Her full lips pull into a sheepish smile.
“…No,” she admits.
I groan dramatically, “Novaaa.”
She shrugs, lips quirking like she’s trying not to laugh. “I don’t know Alex, I think maybe reading just… isn’t for me.”
Opal perks up, fork in hand. “What kind of books is she pushing on you anyway?”
