“He knew he shouldn’t, knew the consequences, but he was powerless against her pleas. Inch by torturous inch, he pushed farther inside her, reveling in her tight heat until she cried out in ecstasy. He bottomed out inside her, her nails raking down his back.The curse be damned, she thought. This was worth any price.”
My words dissolve into a moan as Rafael fills me completely. The book slips from my grasp, falling forgotten to the side as I tilt my head back.
I gasp as he begins to move in earnest, his hips rolling against mine in a steady rhythm. “Oh my God, Rafa—”
“Don’t you want to know what happens next?”
“I can’t.” I pant, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “I can’t read any more.”
He chuckles, his breath hot against my neck. “That’s okay,” he murmurs, nipping at my earlobe. “I’ll show it to you.”
His hips snap forward, driving into me with renewed intensity, and I arch my back, meeting his thrusts. “Harder,” I gasp. “I need more.”
He obliges, pounding into me with punishing force. The headboard slams against the wall with each push, the bed creakingbeneath us. I cry out, overwhelmed by the exquisite mix of pleasure and pain.
“Fuck,” Rafael growls, his hips grinding against me. “You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you? Hard and deep, stretching you open.”
“Yes—it’s so good—perfect.” I gasp again, my words punctuated by sharp cries as he begins pounding into me. “I love it—love…”Don’t, Scarlett.“Love your cock.”
He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder, changing the angle and hitting even deeper.
“Show me how much you love it. Squeeze me inside you with your orgasm, and I’ll give you every drop of mine.”
Almost on command, my eyes cross, my pussy clenching around him hard enough to make him whimper.
He drives into me with a series of stuttering thrusts, sending us both spiraling into an intense climax. I cling to him, our bodies trembling against each other, and for several long moments, we remain entangled, panting and shaking.
Finally, he lifts his head from where it had fallen against my neck.
“Now,that,” he says with a satisfied sigh, “is how you make reading interactive.”
I let out a breathless laugh, running my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. “I don’t think regular reading will do it for me anymore.”
“In that case…” He presses a soft kiss on my lips. “God bless filthy smut.”
act III(structure)
the grand finale of the rom-com; this act is where all misunderstandings, awkward confessions, and missed connections collide in a whirlwind of chaos, character arcs are wrapped up with a bow, exes are confronted, and somehow, against all odds, love prevails
the insurmountable obstacle[trope]
the colossal hurdle that stands between the couple and their happy ending; characters will spend a solid chunk of this whispering, “there’s no way this is going to work.” spoiler alert: italwaysworks out, but not without some serious emotional cartwheels.
The courtroom is colder than I expected, a cold that seeps into your bones and makes you wish you’d brought a sweater. I clasp my hands together over my long, black skirt to keep them from trembling and turn around, my eyes scanning the room. Ethan’s sitting right behind me in his Sunday best, and he gives me a hesitant smile that quickly falters. My heart squeezes. This is all for him. I have to remind myself of that.
At least it’s Friday. The latest episode ofMurders & Manuscriptsaired last night, and no one in Willowbrook died. Which must mean Vanessa was behind all of it, just like Rafael said.
Next to Ethan, Rafael leans back in his seat, looking uncharacteristically tense. He’s wearing a suit—a boring gray one that seems to smother him. When he sees me looking, he gives me a thumbs-up.
Steve is going through papers as he stands next to me, calm and collected like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm, and across the room, my grandparents sit stiffly, my grandmother’s hands folded over her purse, my grandfather’s back as straight as a surfboard. It’s strange seeing them there, on the opposite side, like we’re enemies, but I can’t think about that right now.
Right now, weareenemies.
The door at the front of the room opens, and the bailiff steps in, his voice booming, “All rise for the Honorable Judge Harrison.”
We stand, the room falling silent as Judge Harrison, a stern-looking redhead with sharp eyes, enters and takes her seat at the bench. She clears her throat, bringing the room to absolute silence.
“Good afternoon,” she begins. “This court is now in session. We are here today to address an emergency custody matter concerning the minor Ethan Moore. The petitioner, Ms. Scarlett Moore, is seeking temporary modification of the existing custody arrangement. The respondents, Mr. and Mrs. Moore, are contesting this request.”
