Page 34 of My Turn Petal
Her adorable pout makes my skin prickle like electricity wiring my body as we speak.
“I don’t care.” She crosses her arms, sniffling. “I hate being sick, I’m never sick.”
“There’s always a first, petal.” I take the bowl of soup I made her. “At least you have me to take care of you.”
“You’re my salvation, Theo Roberts, the best neighbor any person can have.”
“That’s all?” I ask.
Cleaning her face, “What do you mean?”
“That’s all I am to you?” I wonder if all she sees in me is the friendly neighbor I’ve always been, or does she see something else. We are changing around each other, it’s evident, but none of us verbalize it.
It’s like we’re both afraid that if we did, things might crumble.
“Theo…”
I turn halfway before I exit her bedroom, “What?”
“You’re like my best friend.”
“And you’re mine.” A small smile rises across my mouth.
She mirrors my expression, her eyes are half closed. “Can you stay tonight just to make sure I don’t have a fever?”
My features soften, and I slowly blink. “I’m here, goodnight, Frankie.”
Frankie
Ican’tbelievethissexy-mouthed man is here with his butt on the mat and his legs on the wall, practicing yoga with me.
I am mostly surprised he suggested it yesterday on our little date-ish.
I can’t get enough of those irresistible words he enunciates, and the dirty looks he sends my way.
“This is relaxing.” He notes while yawning for the hundredth time.
Two feet attached in a straight line against the wall, breathing deeply for two minutes—he holds my hand in his as he did previously for every exercise, showing his encouragement and reassurance in little ways that mean so much to me.
“We’re almost done.” I switch positions and he’s quick to follow. “Last one and you can tell me what you are planning to do to me.”
“Why wait when I can tell you while you are horny as you said those exercises make you.”
I did use that word.
It’s true.
Those positions make me so horny. The friction brings a pleasant sensation to my pussy and I was able to orgasm from that alone at times.
He caresses the length of my forearm, “I’d spread your legs open, my fingers would gently run down your slit, I’d pay attention to every single moan that escapes you over and over again until you let me in and I’d push my finger where you ache me most.”
He demonstrates tiny strokes on my finger with my silver ring.
Back and forth and anew.
The veins in my cheeks boil and my clit pounds.
“You’d beg me to stop, but instead, I’d pump you faster and you’ll pour your juices for me to feast on.”
