What if this is like the last time? What if this was just a fuck for her?
“Bo?” Mor’s voice pulls my focus down to hers. She has her chin resting on my chest, eyes on my face.
My softening cock still inside her channel.
“You’re mustards.”
“I’m … what?”
Her lips tilt in a rueful smirk. “Your aura. There’s a bit of mustard brown.” Her lips flatten. “You’re anxious. Did I do something wrong?”
“No. No.” I emphasize the word when I catch a flash of doubt in her eyes. “Mor, I … I’m worried this is all you’ll want. That you and me … that there won’t be a you and me.”
She blinks, then rises up on her elbows and studies me, still making no move to disconnect our bodies.
And with her glorious tits on display, my cock is trying its best to harden a second time.
“How would you feel about being my boyfriend, Bo?”
Hope. Joy. Want. Need.
They crash through me in what must be a storm of colors I belatedly realize Mor can see.
And her response is to grin, lean in close, and brush her lips across mine.
“You like that … baby?”
This time, I groan and give an involuntary thrust of my hips, half-hard cock wanting to go another round.
Mor places gentle kisses along my cheeks and nose and jaw, ending at my ear.
“What you want, Bo? I want it too.”
36
Bo
I’ve startedto get used to seeing Georgiana. We both live in this small town, and unlike before my curse, I’m venturing out more. In the past, I kept to the Monster section of Lake Galen as much as I could manage, only coming into town for work and necessities. Now though, I make sure to stop by Coffee & Claws most weekdays to get Mor a surprise coffee.
Not a surprise that I’m getting her one, but the flavor combo is.
And I grocery shop with Mor. And I stop into Never Judge a Cover to find a new story to enjoy now that reading isn’t painful. And I stop in at Local Brew some evenings, where Griffith makes me virgin drinks so I don’t try starting my own karaoke night again.
So, on these excursions, yes, I occasionally see the siren. Sometimes, she’s with a friend. Sometimes, she’s with her husband.
Dr. Stormwind. He looks distinguished with his neatly styled salt-and-pepper hair, perfectly ironed slacks and button-up shirts, topped off with a thick metal watch that I bet is a Rolex.
Could a man be any more different from me?
Educated. Wealthy. Not a monster.
If Georgiana married a man like that, then had she ever truly considered a future with me?
But when I glimpse the siren with her doctor, no self-loathing arises. Because, I realize, Georgiana’s life choices no longer matter to me.
Not like when Mor went out with that good-looking professor not too long ago.
That day, my jealousy was so strong that it made me ill. But that guy meant nothing to Mor.
