Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
PEARL
P earl’s mind was full of static as she stared at Reed through uncomprehending eyes.
He was distracted, bagging three picture books for their first customer.
Hemingway sent me a photo of this bookstore.
The store I’m standing in.
The store that Reed owns.
Which could only mean that Reed…
…is Hemingway_CanSuckIt.
What the actual FUCK, universe?
“Okay, you two,” Violet said, holding up her phone. “You need a picture.”
That was what she’d probably said, at least. All Pearl could hear was a roar in her ears.
Reed is Hemingway.
Hemingway is Reed.
“Oh, come on,” Violet said, waving her hands together. “Scootch together. Look happy! You just made your first sale!”
Pearl couldn’t look at Reed as she nudged closer.
“You guys,” Lily said, exasperated from her spot beside Violet. “You have to look happy if we’re going to post it on Bloom’s socials for your launch. Put your arms around each other and smile like friends.”
Pearl gulped as Reed’s arm wrapped around her back.
Pearl did her best to move her lips in a way that probably mimicked a smile.
It’s hard to control your muscles when you’re having an out-of-body experience.
“Why do you guys look so weird?” Lily said, grimacing at them.
“Take the fucking picture,” Pearl snarled through gritted teeth.
“Say, ‘Bookish’!” Violet called.
Can hellfire just swallow me up now?
Please? Pretty please?
“Bookish,” they both mumbled quickly.
“Got it, even if it’s weird,” Lily grumbled.
Pearl and Reed jumped back instantly.
“Could you help me find the religious section, dear?” an older woman said, peering over the counter and leaning on her cane.
“Religion is upstairs.” Pearl grimaced as the woman sighed, looking at all the stairs. “I can show you to the elevator in the back, or I can grab it for you.”
Please for the love of god get me anywhere away from Reed/Hemingway so I can put my brain back into my head.
“That would be great, dear,” the woman said, patting Pearl’s arm. “I’m looking for the latest edition of A Green Witch’s Guide to Tantric Sex .”
“Oh,” Pearl said, momentarily shook. “Great, I’ll be right back.”
She felt Reed’s eyes burning into her as she walked away.
She glanced over her shoulder, unable to help herself. When their eyes connected, they both jolted and turned away.
It’s gonna be a really long afternoon.
As she came back down with the book, she froze on the staircase and looked out over the beautiful, bustling bookstore.
Her hand came to her throat.
He named the store for me .
Someone named a whole fucking bookstore…
Just for me.
Reed walked toward the back, showing the family who owned the hardware store where the kids’ section was. The kids squealed, running as if they’d found a secret hideout.
Everyone else in the shop faded away, and each puzzle piece clicked into place.
He also hated Hemingway. He’d lived in Philadelphia. He’d been going through a lot of changes. He had a huge dick. He had a roommate.
She laughed, realizing it was her.
She was Hemingway’s roommate.
He stood, hands in his pockets, as he surveyed the bustling store. His gaze stopped at her on the staircase as she stared at him like a lunatic.
A half-smile tugged on his lips, and he looked as confused as she felt. His hand lifted in a small wave meant just for her. “ Hey, it’s me ,” it said.
“Is there a problem?” a guy who stood behind her on the staircase asked.
Oh, Jesus Christ .
She bit her tongue, and instead of saying, “I can take my sweet fucking time since this bookstore was named after ME, motherfucker ,” she hurried down to give the customer her book.
She warily kept her distance during the soft opening, but a few hours in, a man asked for a sci-fi collection on the top shelf. Pearl, excited to use the rolling ladder, unhooked the “Employees Only” sign and crawled up, pulling out the heavy books one by one.
“People say Scalzi’s best work is Old Man’s War , but I think Starter Villain is his best book. It’s not sci-fi, but you might like it.” She went backwards down the ladder a rung at a time, taking the heavy books with her slowly. The ladder felt sturdier as a hand grabbed it.
“Let me help you,” Reed said, his hand coming to her elbow.
She stared down at the strong, large hand on her arm and gulped.
Tan, clear skin was in sharp contrast to her pale arm full of demon faces and sexy ladies.
I’ve seen this hand with cum all over it as he held his enormous cock. After he jacked off to me.
I’ve made Reed come.
“Pearl?”
“Oh, um…”
Reed likes it rough. Reed loves my ass and tits.
Reed wants to kiss me.
“The books?” Reed said, holding up his other hand.
“Right,” she said, metaphorically thrown off balance. She handed the books to him and avoided his eyes. Her cheeks were on fucking fire.
Her head felt like it was full of bees. Full of buzzing, not able to think straight.
Every single piece of the last five months rolled around like possessed marbles in her head.
It went that way for the next three hours. It was like they were magnetic. They couldn’t stop finding each other in the crowd.
It was like a compulsion. She had to keep looking.
As the soft opening wound down, Pearl walked Allison out of the store. She needed some air.
It had started to rain and Pearl welcomed the sound as the door closed. The humidity finally released its tension into the air. Street lamps popped on.
“I hope it’s okay I took some cookies for the road,” Allison said, holding up three lemon sugar cookies as they huddled under the overhang away from the rain. “Thought it would pair well with my new true crime book. Did you have a good turnout?”
Pearl leaned against the brick, out of view from the bookshop window as the last three people left the bookshop. “Yeah. My personal highlight was Margie buying a pile of smutty books and riding off with a biker from the Thirsty Beaver. Honestly, that woman is goals.”
They chuckled, but Pearl’s smile didn’t meet her eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Allison asked with concern. “You looked a little off in there.”
Where would I even begin?
“Just needed some air,” Pearl said, waving her away. “Enjoy your murder and lemon cookies.” Allison waved as she dashed to her car.
The last two customers trickled out. Too bad I didn’t grab my purse. I could make a quiet Irish exit and just hole up in my room.
Forever.
Yes, she was a giant fucking scaredy-cat.
I never said I wasn’t a pussy.
This whole time, it had been him. She’d flirted with him. Made him come. He’d consoled her, made her laugh, made her come.
Her thighs clenched thinking about the purple vibrator. Reed had sent it to her.
Reed —straitlaced, buttoned-up, nerdy-as-fuck Reed—was a goddamn savant at dirty-talking.
The brick of the building was still warm from the sunny day and it soothed her back. The sound of rain pelting the sidewalk mimicked the ping-ponging in her brain.
He wouldn’t want me.
The one guy I thought could truly love me…
Who maybe I already love a little…
Who said I could eat nickels if I wanted…
Is not the kind of guy who would want a chubby, crass, alt, stone-cold bitch like me.
She looked at her phone and scanned their chats, reliving her highlights. Mentally, she was already boarding up shop and saying goodbye.
Like an idiot, she’d forgotten to appear inactive and jumped when a message came in.
HEMINGWAY_CANSUCKIT
You won’t *believe* the day I’ve had.
She burst out laughing at how ludicrous this all was.
ImpossiblyBookish
bet i can
HEMINGWAY_CANSUCKIT
You done hiding out in the rain?
Want to talk yet?
ImpossiblyBookish
about what?
HEMINGWAY_CANSUCKIT
You’re hilarious.
You love it, she wanted to type on instinct as she smirked. A ragged breath pulled on her lungs.
It was all over now. The special thing they’d had.
ImpossiblyBookish
k
The door to Bookish swung open. He was inside, pushing it open for her with his hand splayed on the door.
He looked shy, confused, maybe a little embarrassed.
We’ll just handle this quickly, and I’ll go home. Rip the band-aid off.
She walked quickly past him into the store, brushing against him, not looking him in the eye.
But he grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
“Wait,” he murmured.
She froze, her heart beating outside of her body. Heat hit her cheeks, and the warmth from his hand radiated up her arm.
He closed the door and locked it. Turned off the lights. Still held her wrist with a firm hand, like he thought she was going to run away.
Which, fair, I was.
Low lights on the bookshelves cast dim, cozy glows throughout the store. The only sound was the patter of rain hitting the skylight over her heart thumping in her throat.
“Pearl, look at me.” His thumb swiped on her pulse, and her breath stuttered.
She’d been studying the patterns on the marble floor.
She gulped.
His thumb caressed her wrist again. “Bookish, please.” His voice was low and pleading.
Her eyes flashed up to his.
The amber light glowed warm on his face. His brown eyes looked like deep pours of bourbon. He had a five-o’clock shadow, and the little stubble hairs glinted in the low light.
He looked nervous, thoughtful.
“I didn’t know, I swear,” she whispered earnestly.
He smiled, looking pained. “I know.” He nodded. “Me neither. Honestly.”
“Are you…” Disappointed ? She didn’t even want to ask the question.
Because then he’d answer it.
You should run, her heart told her. She knew it was afraid of getting bruised, poor thing.
Possibly demolished for good.
“How do you feel?” she finally asked. It would be a less direct blow when he answered.
“How do you feel?” he said with furrowed brows, looking concerned.
The rain had turned to a thunderous rumble on the ceiling.
“You first,” she said, her chin jutting out defensively.
His hand still held her wrist and fuck, she hoped he’d never let it go.
His lips twitched with the ghost of a smile and his gaze softened. His head tilted, considering her as his eyes roamed her face.
“Bookish was—is—you are,” he stumbled, “special to me.”
He stepped closer slowly, like she might run away. “But I felt bad,” he whispered, looking nervous.
“Why?” She breathed, not able to take her eyes off his mouth two inches in front of her.
His hand brushed her cheek tentatively, and the pleasure of it radiated like sunlight to her every nerve ending.
“Because I’ve been having these feelings…”
His thumb slowly, lazily stroked her jaw, and she thought she might die from how good it felt.
“What feelings,” she whispered, leaning into his hand.
“Feelings for my assistant that I shouldn’t have. My assistant who hated me.”
She felt like she’d been drugged, trying to chase the feeling of his fingers against her cheek.
“I kissed her and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About her body. The way I wanted it. I tried not to but I’d picture it every night.”
Her breath caught as his thumb lazily traced the bottom edge of her lip.
Every night.
“Spent my nights trying to find what perfume she wears because it haunts me,” he said, stroking her chin with a hunger in his words.
She could feel his breath on her lips, that peppermint and cedar cocktail she’d been thinking of for weeks. She tugged on his sweater, needing to feel some part of him.
“She’s kind, and funny. Has these gorgeous hazel eyes that look like a nebula. Shocks of gold surrounded by green,” he murmured. “Pouty lips that taste sweet. But…my heart had unfortunately already found its perfect match somewhere else. Somewhere in Denver.”
Her breathing came in pulls.
She swirled the information together in her head as she fought to keep her eyes open.
Gorgeous.
Pictured every night.
Perfect match.
The rain filled the silence between them.
“Is this too much?” he whispered, his eyebrows knitted together with worry.
Her body felt like it was buzzing, electric. “It’s never too much,” she murmured, leaning into his hand cupping her cheek.
Her eyes searched his. He nodded quietly as his thumb stroked back and forth, tracing the bottom of her lip. His amber eyes were molten as he clenched his jaw, staring at her lips.
She licked her lips. “You…you named the bookshop for me?”
He smiled, tilting his head as he leaned down. “Yes, gorgeous. My Bookish.” He barely brushed his lips against hers once, twice.
She chased the feeling but he pulled back, his eyes connecting with hers.
His breathing was ragged. “ Anything for you.”
The sound of it in person was too sweet. Too perfect.
Too him .
Her heart burst, and she pushed up and captured his mouth.
He kissed her back like a man possessed. Hot, firm. Both hands cupped her face, and her soul melted into him at the feeling of it.
She pressed against him, pulling every inch of his body closer to hers. Swirling desire and pent-up lust had her clawing at him.
His hand ran into her hair as his tongue opened her mouth, and fuck if she hadn’t dreamt of this for weeks. Yes .
A moan floated out of her. God, he was too good at this.
Her fingers itched to feel him again, and she pulled his shirt out from his pants. The hot muscles of his stomach burned her fingers as he backed her against the card catalog desk.
She was ruthless in grabbing every inch of his stomach.
Letting herself be the feral tomcat she was.
She scratched and grabbed his abs, his chest, pushing a hand up under his shirt. He bit her lip ruthlessly, kissing her like he wanted to consume her.
He moaned, wrapping an arm around her and yanking her tightly to him. She clenched her pussy around nothing. Wanting him.
“I’ve wanted to do that for fucking weeks,” he muttered against her lips. “Wanted to kiss you in the kitchen right here”—his mouth nipped her neck—“when you were making pancakes.”
She huffed out a laugh as her nipples hardened and pleasure rained down her spine. She’d been a mess that day. “I wanted to lick raindrops off your chest,” she admitted as she pressed his head into her neck, hoping he’d bite harder. “Or your sweat. Fuck, you smell so good.” The cedar of his cologne surrounded her, and begged her to open her legs wider.
He bit her neck harder and pulled up her see-through crop top over her tank top to kiss her breasts. “Thought about tracing each”—he placed open-mouthed kisses over her tattoos—“tattoo with my tongue. God, I wanted you so badly,” he said as he kissed right where her heart was.
Her heart clenched. She scraped her tongue along his earlobe, biting there, and he shuddered.
His hand slid down her thighs and grabbed one, firm. Possessive.
Bruising.
“Yes,” she sighed, loving it.
“Your thighs have haunted me,” he said, kissing her deeply. “Couldn’t stop picturing my face between them.”
His hand palmed her breast, and she leaned into it. He toyed with her nipple with his thumb, rubbing it around and around. Her clit pulsed and she clenched wanting him inside of her. “Like when?”
“Like when you were on top of me, moaning while I massaged you. The things I wanted to do to you,” he said, his voice filled with dark promise.
She could swear she saw the fires of hell in his eyes and she wanted to be consumed by them.
She bit her lip. Wanting him to say it. Hearing it from Reed, not from Hemingway. “Tell me.”
A wicked smile transformed his face. His thumb still toyed with her nipple and he was ruthless, pinching it hard, rolling it. She bit back a loud moan. Wet arousal flooded her panties and drenched her clit.
His forehead pressed against hers as he stared into her soul. “I was moments away from rolling your panties down, sliding my finger in your ass, and making you beg me to come as I ground you against my cock.”
Ho.
Ly.
Fuck.
Ing.
Hell.
Her hands fumbled for the buckle on his belt. He pushed her onto the checkout desk and spread her thighs wide, pushing her skirt up.
“But tonight,” he gasped against her mouth, “I have to know, Pearl.” His hands clenched her thighs, gripping them, running over her fishnet tights, higher and higher.
“Know what,” she said, grasping the outline of his cock as she fumbled with his top button. Need it.
“Please.” His thumbs rubbed higher and higher on her inner thighs. She thrust her hips toward him until he hit her hot center. “ Fuck me , you’re so wet. I have to know.” He grimaced as his muscles bulged and a rip sounded. “I have to know what you taste like.”
He’d torn a pussy hole in her tights.
He cupped her chin so she looked right at him. “Eyes right here.” His thumb slowly pressed under her panties through the hole and connected directly with her clit.
“Fuck,” she sobbed, pressing against his thumb.
He bit his lip as he swirled a thumb around her clit, watching her moan, her chin still in his hand, as pleasure snaked up her spine.
She pressed against him, wanting it harder.
“Yes, more,” she moaned.
He swirled and swirled his thumb. He captured her mouth, his tongue twisting with hers.
He ducked his thumb deeper, tracing the seam of her. Until he pulled back and sucked it into his mouth. His eyes closed in ecstasy. “Fucking vanilla and…you. That’s just you,” he muttered, licking every drop.
He hauled her against him as their mouths devoured each other with hot, sloppy kisses. He lifted her up, thighs on his hips. She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck as he walked her back to the sci-fi section away from the windows. Her skirt was up around her waist, and the cool air of the room hit her exposed pussy.
“You can carry me?” she said as he set her on a rung of the book ladder, nestled in a corner out of view.
He held her chin, his voice low and threatening as he gripped her thigh with a punishing need. “If you don’t think I haven’t been working out for this exact purpose, you have vastly underestimated me, Bookish.”
He kissed her as he tugged her tank top and bra down on one side, exposing her breast.
A moan shuddered out of him as his mouth connected with her breast. He sucked her nipple through her netted crop top, and she could have come from the perfect friction on her skin. She could only moan as he pressed his face into her, yanking the other side of her top down so his face was buried in her tits.
“Thought about doing this since the bookcase. Since you sent me that photo,” he murmured into her skin. He sucked on the other as he played ruthlessly with her exposed nipple.
“Wanted to fuck you in that bookcase hellhole,” she moaned, burying her nose in his hair.
“Was”—he sucked hard and she cried out as he squeezed her breast—“this close to pulling your tits onto my face when I massaged you. Could see the edge of this nipple and I needed it.”
She moaned, thinking of how badly she’d wanted him to do just that. “Please, want you.”
He thrust her legs apart and knelt, hooking a leg over his shoulder. He stared at her spread legs, licking his lips and pushed them farther apart.
He yanked her panties to the side and stared at her hungrily. “Finally,” he groaned.
Jesus.
Moaning, he dove into her pussy.
Fuck this was everything. She could barely breathe from the pleasure of it. Her head rolled in pleasure on the ladder rungs, incoherent pleas sobbing out of her.
She gasped as his tongue slinked around her clit. He ate with abandon, moving his tongue up and down, biting, licking. She held the book ladder with one hand above her and the other shoved his face in deeper.
His tongue lapped every inch of her pussy, leaving nothing to waste. No dip unexplored. He moaned as he sucked her clit, hard.
Her thighs surrounded his face, and he squeezed them tighter around his head.
“Don’t stop,” she cried.
Loud, wet sounds mixed with his groaning pulled at her desire. “Don’t want to,” he murmured into her pussy.
He moved his tongue over her clit again and again, up and down and up and down. Then to the side, until he started over again. The same pattern, harder, but always the same.
She fought through the haze of pleasure, trying to make sense of it. “Are you…are you spelling something?”
His chest was ragged as he peered up. His face was wet from her, and his fingers dug into her thighs.
He rubbing his face hard against her thigh reverently as he stared into her soul, the bourbon of his eyes on fire as he nodded.
“M. I. N. E.”
Fuuuck . A sob escaped her mouth as she bit her bottom lip, her pussy clenching.
“You like that, gorgeous?” he said with a smirk, his eyes catching the movement under her skirt.
“Only if I get the dirty acrostic poem with it later,” she said, laughing.
He spread her pussy wider and buried his face into her with a deep laugh, enjoying himself.
This is crazy. Reed/Hemingway is eating me out like his life depends on it. Fuck, and he’s so good at it.
She fucked his face, grinding against him, using one foot on the armchair next to them for support. He had her at his mercy. Tits exposed and rubbing on the wet fabric where it had been in his mouth. Off-balance and leaning onto him as he destroyed her.
Slippery coils of pleasure rubbed again and again. She needed more, needed this to last forever.
He slid two fingers in, and she clenched around them, crying out.
“Jesus, Pearl,” he gasped, pinning his forehead to her soft stomach. He curled his fingers, coaxing her, and she twisted in pleasure. “Can you take three? You feel so tight.”
“Fuck,” she moaned. “Please. I want to feel full. Spread.”
His eyes connected with hers, dark and sultry and challenging. The rolled-up sleeves of his button-up shirt strained against his flexing muscles. He slid another large finger in and she gasped.
“You’re doing so good,” he muttered and sucked on her clit.
Fucking praise kink. A wave was building, surging inside her. “Going to come,” she mumbled, barely able to think straight with a full pussy and Reed biting her clit.
She heard a zipper, and his hand disappeared from her thigh. He jacked himself hard as he stared up at her. “Eyes on me, Pearl.”
His eyes connected with hers as he sucked and sucked. She squeezed her nipple. The soft crook of her G spot was teased back and forth as a wicked smile grew on his face, and she ground against his face harder and harder, screaming out his name.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he moaned as he came in his hand with a cry, burying his face harder into her.
They gasped for breath, frozen in place. The ragged sounds mixed with the rain still pouring on the roof.
Her legs twitched with the aftershocks, and she curled her spine, savoring the feeling of Reed kissing her thighs reverently. A rumble sounded.
Thunder?
No, wait. Laughter.
She looked down to find Reed chuckling against her thigh.
“What,” she said, still out of breath and incredulous, “is so funny about my pussy?”
He stood and kissed her deeply, pressing her whole body against his. She wrapped her arms around him, still shaking from her climax. She happily tasted herself on his tongue, feeling like he’d been claimed as hers.
“It’s just,” he murmured against her lips, pulling back. His eyes were warm and full of humor. “When I pictured eating your pussy, like I have countless times, never in one million years did I think you’d scream Ernest Hemingway’s name when you came.”