Page 62 of Hexed
My free hand moves to my breast, grabbing it roughly over my shirt, imagining Enzo’s fingers pulling at my nipples, manipulating my own flesh as though I were under his hands. It doesn’t feel the same—of course it doesn’t—but I let my imagination run wild, and if I try hard enough, I can still pretend.
His hands on my sides, gripping, grabbing, pulling.
His mouth on my skin, wet, hot, soft.
His voice in my ear, moaning because he can’t control how badly he wants me.
And there’s something aboutthat, about him losing control, that has me at my peak within seconds.
My touch leaves my breast, and I move it down, pushing one finger inside myself and curling until I feel that spongy spot that sends bright lights flashing behind my eyes.
“Oh God,” I moan, my back arching off the bed. My other hand speeds up its circular motion against my clit.
“Piccola sirena.”
His imaginary voice in my ear is all it takes, and my body smashes into a thousand bits as I explode, coming so hard that my vision goes black and my ears go numb.
Immediately, guilt tears me up from the inside out.
Fuck.
I have got to get it together.
Two hours later and I’m thinking the same thing but for different reasons.
Seven Seas Construction sits at the corner of Eighty-Third and Arista Avenue in downtown Atlantic Cove. It’s a smaller building than one would expect, but its architecture is solid and stunning. It’s made almost entirely of reflective glass, and the sun shines off the surface like a mirror and sparkles along the water, making the building look like a thousand tiny diamonds glimmering in the middle of the city.
It’s where Uncle T spends most of his days when he isn’t at his home or on his yacht in the middle of the ocean.
I, however, can count the number of times I’ve been here on one hand.
Today is five, and I wonder why he asked me to meet him here when he’s spent so many years making sure I stay away.
The sun is hot, the warmth of the rays soaking into my skin while I stand indecisively on the sidewalk just outside the front, getting lost in thought as I stare at the SS Construction decal plastered across the glass door.
Part of me is grappling with the thought of him finally allowing me into this part of his life, his business. But the other side of me feels suspicion, which is something I’m not used to feeling when it comes to Uncle T.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing here, but it must have been some time, because the door opens and Bastien walks out, a look of concern etched on his umber-brown features as he walks up to me and stands at my side. He slips his hands into his pockets and rocks on his heels as he stares at the building.
“Nice day,” he muses.
I purse my lips. “Little hot.”
“Sun is shining at least,” he continues.
“I hate the sun.”
He glances at me, reaching out and pressing a thumb into my pale skin, watching as it turns white, then darkens back to a slight pink. “I think it hates you, too.”
I smirk at him.
“You planning to stand out here all day?” He turns to face me.
“He sent you out here to get me, didn’t he?” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair, wincing when one catches on a tangle.
Bastien nods. “You know how it is.”
“How’d he even know I was here?”
