Chapter 17 #2
I’m greedy and desperate for more. I flip the third card.
Lightning splits a black tower, and there are flames in every window. Two figures fall headfirst toward the rocks, and everything in me goes cold.
I know this one, and it’s not kind. I look at it lying face up, next to the cards representing a leap and a wish fulfilled. Words escape me.
He leans forward, studying me. “What does it say?”
“It’s a lot.”
His blue-green eyes meet mine as his fingers ease the lace aside.
When he touches me skin to skin, my hips instinctively roll against his hand.
The dread of the cards disappears, along with my surroundings.
His rhythm builds. It’s slow and patient, and he gives me exactly what I need.
Nothing stops him, not me or the line forming outside.
I grip his forearm, grasping at him, pulling him closer.
“Tell me. Give me the truth.”
I look at the three cards while his fingers keep going. I place my palms flat on the table, chasing the end.
“The Fool is your past.” My voice comes out frayed and desperate. “This all started with a leap. You left your life behind and walked away on purpose. You came into this with an open heart, whether you meant to or not.”
“And?”
I gasp, then tuck my lips into my mouth.
“The wish card. Your present.” My eyes flutter closed. “It means … you have what you want most. The thing you’ve always wished for.”
His thumb circles my clit, and my breath breaks.
He licks his lips. “And the last one?”
The Tower sits face up between the scattered deck and me.
“Sudden upheaval.”
The orgasm is building, and he knows it, so he slows down, making me finish the reading.
“A collapse. This card burns down illusions. It destroys whatever was built on a shaky foundation, all at once. And what survives …”
“Yes?”
“Is forever.”
“So, the leap, the wish, and the fire.” His mouth comes to my ear, and he picks up his pace. “Some reading, sweetheart. It’s almost like you’re trying to tell me something.”
“Jamie …” I’m shaking as my body begs for release.
He holds me there for another minute, not giving me what I need.
“Please.”
“Blaire?” Josie’s voice comes through the wagon wall, three feet and one layer of hundred-year-old wood away. “You almost done in there? The line’s getting long!”
“Almost!” It comes out as a screech, half an octave too high.
Jamie’s fingers slide into me.
“You should hurry,” he whispers, and there’s a smile in it.
This man is a menace and completely merciless.
“I’m so close. I’m—”
“Answer my question,” he whispers. “You promised the truth.”
“I agreed to a fling. That means sex, Jamie.” It comes out broken, but it’s the truth. “Staying the night is too much.”
“You’re mine until November.”
“My body is yours,” I admit. “We have to be careful with this.”
I’m wound so fucking tight, and I need this more than I need air.
“Such a good girl, riding my fingers.”
His mouth captures mine, swallowing every sound I make. Our kisses are slow and with intention as I desperately want more.
Then everything stops.
His hand slides free. The lace settles back into place. My skirt falls where it was. He stands, calm, as he leaves me on the brink.
“You wouldn’t.”
He smirks. “I need you to decide what you want. Either you’re mine until November, or you’re not.”
He sets a hundred on the table as my body trembles. Then he moves the curtain to the side and leaves. The sounds of the festival pour in as I sit there, wet and horny. Through the velvet, I hear Josie speak to him.
“Have a good day!” She’s as friendly as a Sunday school teacher.
The wagon still smells like him.
I ask Josie to give me a minute. She does, and I take the time to compose myself. I slip the cards back into the deck and reshuffle.
The evening rush comes with the dark. I pull and read cards until I’m exhausted.
By the time Josie and I drag ourselves home, the manor smells like pot roast. Winter made us dinner while we were working the carnival. I eat two helpings and enjoy listening to Josie’s customer stories. I go upstairs to try to be in bed early because I’m wound too damn tight.
Once I’m between the sheets, I close my eyes, replaying every moment with him today.
I pick up my phone and text him the truth.
Blaire
I want to see you.
Three dots pop up, then stop, then return. I sit against the headboard and impatiently wait.
Jamie
I think you need to take a few days and think about that.
I read it several times, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
Blaire
You’re playing games.
Jamie
You are too.
Blaire
I think you’re not used to someone not being absolutely obsessed with you.
Jamie
Ha! Please. You ARE obsessed. You’re putty in my hands, sweetheart. If I came over right now, you know you’d let me fuck your brains out.
My fingers slide under the blanket and into my panties.
Blaire
What’s wrong with that?
My eyes close. I don’t do this often. And I’ve never been turned on enough to touch myself to the thought of anyone, but he’s different. He’s in my head and under my skin in ways he shouldn’t be.
Blaire
The things I’d let you do to me …
I don’t rush. My fingertips start at my collarbone and drift, slow, over every place his mouth has been. I replay our time together. His words from today repeat in my mind as I slide a finger inside.
“Always wet for me,” he said in that low voice.
Just the thought of him has me writhing for more.
Jamie
Tell me.
I slide my hands over my thighs, then back between my legs, teasing myself.
Blaire
I’d let you kiss down my body from my lips to my pussy then devour me like your last meal.
My clit is swollen, throbbing for more.
Jamie
Mmm.
Blaire
I wish you were here.
Jamie
I want you until November, Blaire. All of you.
Blaire
You don’t want all of me.
My hips rock against my hand, and this time, I take two fingers. My body aches for more. My phone rings, and I see it’s his number.
I answer breathlessly. “Yes?”
“I want all of you.”
I suck in air, my eyes squeezing tight. “Why?”
“Fuck … are you touching yourself?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm,” I say, pulling away before I lose control. I wait it out before building again.
“Blaire, I want you so fucking bad.”
“Jamie,” I whisper, closing my eyes, “I’m cursed too. I’m going to ruin your life.”
“You can try,” he says, and I instantly crumble.
Everything I’ve been holding back comes in intense waves. I drop the phone and ride my own hand. The orgasm goes on for longer than I expected.
As I come down from my high, I’m almost embarrassed by how desperate he makes me. I fish the phone out of the blankets.
My heart slams into my chest because I am obsessed with him and how he makes me feel.
“You make me lose control,” I whisper.
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask.
“Let me know when you make your decision about us. I’ll be waiting.” Then he ends the call.
I stare at the ceiling, wondering what the hell just happened. Then I pull the blankets to my chin and fall asleep.