I squirm, attempting to thrust my hips, but they won’t move, his arms pinning them down. He flashes me a wicked grin as he slowly—so torturously slow—lowers his head to my slick pussy. I try to move my hands, to spear them into his hair and yank him to where I want him to be, but my arms don’t move.
Ro chuckles, his breath ghosting over me and sending tingles racing up and down my spine. His eyes glow a bright, molten gold as he looks up at me from between my legs.
My breath stutters in my chest and I groan again, so desperate to come that I nearly start begging. I’m chanting hisname in my head, cursing him, but refusing to plead. My throat feels too tight, and I fear I might actually be saying his name aloud.
“Ro, Ro.”
My voice is soft, but gaining intensity as his tongue teases my outer folds and his lips graze the crease of my inner thigh. I thrash against his hold, my patience snapping as I finally yell.
“Ro!”
I jolt up in bed, chest heaving, panicked at having been awoken by a shout, only to realize it was me.
I’m the one who shouted.
Because…
“No,” I murmur, then my voice gains desperation again for an entirely different reason as the dream comes back to me. “Nooo, no, nonono!”
I bury my face in my hands, ignoring the sweat slicked hair sticking to my forehead and my thumping heart. There’sno wayI just had a fuckingsex dreamaboutRo.
“Uhhggggggg,” I groan, falling back into my pillows as a scathing “mrow” replies.
I drop my hands and look to the side, where the cat sits on my window sill. It’s clearly unimpressed with me—same cat, same—and places one paw on the window, demanding to be let out. I don’t want to be here with me right now either.
It takes a few seconds to untangle my legs from the sheets, then I heave myself out of bed, crack the window for the cat, and make my way into the bathroom for a cold shower. I’m finally cooling down, refusing to finish what my dream, no—nightmare—started, when the doorbell rings. I roll my eyes, not bothering to hurry to answer it, and step under the cold water again.
When I finally turn it off and step out, the doorbell rings again. I ignore it still, having no interest in interacting with anyone if I don’t have to. But a few minutes later, someoneknocks. I’ve barely had time to throw some clothes on, but fuck it.
Exasperated and already done with this day, I stomp to the door, ready to lay into whatever evangelist or preacher thinks they have a right to my time.
Ro
Lor flings the door open and my jaw goes slack. Her eyes are spitting mad, luminescent grey in the soft light, but it’s her sexy as hell outfit that scrambles my brain. She’s wearing a black knit crop top, high neckline with no sleeves and no bra, hard nipples poking through the fabric like they’re begging for my attention. Her stomach is on display with loose black sleep shorts that barely cover her ass, leaving miles of bare leg ending with bare feet tapping the floor in agitation.
And on top of it, her hair is dripping wet. It leaves trails of water down her neck, across her shoulders, there’s even a glittering stripe that’s made its way past her cropped top and down her stomach. I gulp, averting my eyes before my quick perusal turns to leering.
I bend down, swiping a hand out toward the ground, and then rub my chin as I stand back up.
Lor’s fiery gaze flips to confused, and she stares at me for a moment before speaking.
“What are you doing?”
“Picking my jaw up off the floor,” I reply.
Lor slams the door in my face and I bark a laugh. I caught her quick grin before she was able to hide it. It was small, but I’ve become an expert in reading her micro-expressions.
I bite my lip, trying to hold in my own grin as I knock again. Two quick taps.
Lor opens it immediately, her face composed into what I’m sure she thinks is a neutral mask, but I can see her curiosity and the playful edge she won’t let out. I lean against the doorframe, propping one forearm above me as I angle my head at her.
“You gonna invite me in?”
“No,” she says.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you here.”
