She looks down at me, her brow still pinched, but a tiny grin coiling on her lips.She nods.
“Kiss me, Venus,” I say, and she leans closer, her lips gently grazing mine.“Now, lean back.”
Despite the heavy rise and fall of her chest, she relaxes into the chair while I push her skirt higher.“I like you in dresses,” I say, smirking.“You’re so damn pretty.”
I run my fingers along her panties before hooking them and edging them aside.I lean in, taking several long, slow breaths against her, teasing her.Then, I dive my tongue into her wetness, taking one long swipe up her center, before gently sucking her clit.She cries out loudly, making us both laugh as she covers her mouth with her hand.I wedge my hands under her ass and yank her to the edge of the chair before easing her legs over my shoulders.The heels of her sneakers press into my back, and I love the pressure.I feel like a fucking madman over how desperate I am to make her come.Her hands rake through my hair, and she grabs on, pulling me even closer as my tongue teases and circles her clit.She writhes against me, arching her back and encouraging me.
“Henry,” she moans behind her fingers.“You’re ruining me, Henry.”
Ruining us both, I think, but don’t say.Ruining us for anyone else.
But I don’t care.By summer’s end, the only place she’ll run is to me.
My tongue dips inside her before returning to her clit, working feverishly as she writhes beneath me.And then, she convulses almost wildly, making me brace her arms and hold her tightly.When her earthquake softens into tremors, I gently release my grip and exchange my licks for soft kisses, working my way from her mound to her inner thighs.She melts against me, moaning softly.
I ease her panties into place and trail kisses down her thighs as I adjust her skirt.She sits up, wrapping her arms around me.I nestle against her chest and hear her heartbeat thundering under my ear.
“Take me on the desk,” she says, nearly panting.
“This was for you.”I lay a kiss on her forehead as I stand.Her hand sweeps over the front of my pants, feeling my hardness.“Just for you.”
I put my glasses back on and sit on the edge of her desk, crossing my legs at my ankles, trying to calm down.I grab the other sandwich from the bag and peel it open.I eat half of it in one bite, smiling over at her, all flushed and satisfied.She leans back in her chair, contemplating me like abnormal cells under a microscope.
“Are you sure you don’t want to?—”
“I’m sure,” I cut in, grabbing one of the bags of chips and moving around the desk.I wrap my messenger bag around my shoulder, holding it up front to hide what’s left of my erection, and head for the door.If I wait one more minute, it might be impossible to resist her.“Lunch tomorrow.Don’t forget.”
“I won’t,” she promises.
Then, I leave her.
CHAPTER34
Venus
“I need more dresses,”I tell Ivy when she answers my call.“Will you take me shopping again?”
“Girl, you know me.I’m always down for shopping,” she answers, her voice giddy.“I’m off shift soon.I’ll run home, change, check on Buster, and pick you up.”
“Thank you,” I sigh, shuffling into the fairy house.I race to complete the outdoor chores before Ivy arrives.I water my salvaged plants, glad to find them still thriving in their new home.I check the mini-bogs and additional garden beds in the greenhouse—all is well.
But when I traverse the acre-sized public garden, I discover two alarming problems.On the west end, a breakout of black spot, a disease that looks as it sounds, is spreading across the wilting leaves of a large patch of flytraps.To the east perimeter, the flytraps and pitcher plants are being ravaged by aphids, tiny, pesky little pests that twist and deform the leaves.I groan and stamp my feet at the annoying discoveries, upsetting an elderly couple taking a quiet stroll nearby.
An urgent search through Dad’s shed produces Physan, the fungicide needed to control black spot.I mix it with water and return to that section for a liberal spraying.Dad is out of Orthene, which I need for the aphids.I make a mental note to stop by the same garden supply business that had the correct peat moss in the hopes that they will also carry the wettable powders best for flytraps.
Back inside the house, my shoulders slump as I change and wait for Ivy to arrive.
It’s only been ten days since Dad left the gardens in my care, and I’ve failed my charge.Between this and my first week of lackluster teaching, he’s bound to be doubly disappointed.It’s as if problems follow me—or I create them—wherever I go.
“It’s completely illogical to think that the aphids saw that there was a new girl in town and decided,here’s our chance, boys.Let’s attack,” Ivy says, her manicured fingers twisting on the steering wheel as she drives us to the boutique.“Youare not the problem, Venus.Nature is.Life is.That’s the way things go.”
I snort-laugh at her voice-acting aphids.“You’re right.It’s illogical.But I still feel bad.”
“Don’t feel bad.You’ll teach those aphids not to mess with you, and you’ll eradicate that black spot in no time.I’mmoreinterested in why you need more dresses.”
I turn to the passenger window, trying to hide the smile that creeps up my cheeks over memories of today.I’m still in shock over it, like perhaps I was high off marker fumes and hallucinated it—Henry’s help, Henry’s words, Henry’s hands, Henry’s tongue.An orgasm,justfor me.
“I, um, just don’t want to do laundry every five seconds,” I say, “and you were right.My wardrobe needs help.”
