Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
My body aches for him. My pussy is throbbing now. But he’s right. It is a bad idea, especially after learning Xander’s feelings at Homecoming about the unlikely potential of me and Donnelly getting together.
Yet, I’m dying for more. Just more. One step closer to us than what we are. He went down on me to show me what good head felt like, and in the past two years my baseline still hasn’t been topped. But he’s still just my friend. My baseline.
We’re nowhere near the level I yearn to be at, but to get there means disrupting the status quo of my family, who’s happy. Xander, my dad—everyone. They’re all happy how things currently are.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I say into a nod. “Planet Partners don’t have sex. It is known.”
“Cool.” His cool sounds tight and like a dunk in a cold bath.
As we stare at one another, I feel like we’re closing a chapter on what could never be. A branch in the timeline that isn’t ours.
I hate it here.
But I’m trying to be satisfied enough not to care.
“I have two piercings,” he says without dropping his towel to show me. “A frenum and an apadravya.”
Two dick piercings.
I stare at his cotton towel. “Huh…” For as vivid as my imagination is, I can’t picture it. Maybe because I have no clue what those words mean. Frenum. Apadravya. I make a mental note to look them up later.
“Cool,” I say what he said, hearing the strain in my own voice. I rise to my feet. “Do they feel good during sex?”
“Yeah, girls have told me my piercings feel good. I don’t think they’re lying to me at least.” He walks to the sink and wipes a hand over the foggy mirror, clearing the steam. My stomach knots in on itself. Don’t picture him with other girls, Luna. It’s hard not to.
“Cool,” I say again. “Yeah, the guys I’ve blown really like my tongue piercing.” That hurts. I’m not sure why I said it. It feels like I just stuck a sword through my own stomach.
He looks at me through the mirror and it feels more intimate and vulnerable than if he were just staring directly at me. “That why you get your tongue pierced?” he asks me. “To give better blowies? It’s okay if it was.” He nods to me. “I got my dick pierced for sex. No shame.”
It’s true; he makes me feel like I could confess that I love getting fucked and he’d look at me exactly the same. I don’t think anyone else would. They’d immediately be filled with this barrel of concern that I’m a sex addict.
I feel safe to be myself with Donnelly, even if there’s a load of tension winding around us. Words get tongue-tied the more I try to find them.
“It’s not…I didn’t…” Heat flushes me. “I just like how it looks and that I can feel it when I’m…anxious.”
He’s still staring at me through the mirror. “Yeah, I get it.”
“You do?”
“Same reason you got your galaxy tattoo, right?” He nods to my thighs. “Calms you down.”
I nod over and over. “Yeah.” Then I remember why I’m here. “Shit, Moondragon.”
“Moon who?” Donnelly frowns.
He doesn’t know.
No one does.
I spill my secret. “Moondragon,” I confess. “My pet fish. I thought I left her fish food here, but I think I must be out.”
“You have a fish?”
“She’s kind of a secret,” I mutter. “I was hoping to never tell anyone in case she accidentally croaks on my watch. Which is likely. My mom was never able to keep a pet fish alive.”
He turns on the sink faucet. “Yeah, but you’re not your mom.”
That nearly sends me over. I hold back tears. “Maybe I am though.”
His eyes find mine again through the mirror. He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m seeing all Luna Hale.”
“Fog must be triple thick.”
He turns to face me. Smiling brighter, he says, “Still Luna.”
Still Luna.
Tears threaten to rise, but I fight them down. “Thanks,” I whisper.
He opens his mouth to say something, but his phone buzzes near my side of the sink. I grab it for him and barely glance at the text that popped up. But I see the words Beckett and steal.
Huh…
I hand him his cell, trying not to snoop.
“Thanks,” he says.
I watch him read the text, his lips downturn. Face falls. His shoulders grow stiff. And then he says a rough “fuck” under his breath.
Donnelly slumps forward in a lunge, facing the mirror. Phone still cupped in his hand, I think he’s rereading the text over and over.
I’m unsure if he wants me involved, but I just ask quietly, “Is your cousin still blackmailing you?”
“He hasn’t sent that photo to anyone yet. But he’s trying to scare me.” He straightens up and shows me the text on his phone.
You have until Halloween to deliver the Thomas Cole painting with you know who’s signature on the back. Otherwise, we’re going to have a Finn situation on our hands. – Colin Donnelly