74

“ W hat is this?” I reached out and brushed her hair back from her neck. There's a splattering of tiny bruises along her throat behind her ear.

Florence’s eyes were still closed as she lay in the warm sun. We had settled down in the middle of the field after she convinced me I needed to leave the library. She wasn’t wrong but I felt crazy going over that information repeatedly without results.

The wildflowers seemed to be the only untouched part of the grounds. Either too far from the Manor's presence—and I understood how crazy I sounded—or the Manor felt bad for punishing her and the field was a small mercy. Malicious in nature, almost a form of supernatural gaslighting, it made Florence smile and I couldn’t deny her that by questioning the reasoning behind it.

“What?” She didn’t open her eyes but leaned into my touch and hummed from the contact. My fingers buzzed against her skin and I desperately wanted to feel that on my lips.

“There are bruises on your neck,” I said quietly, as if my voice would hurt her in some way.

She had looked so fragile lately. It had been three weeks of us running in circles trying to figure out what the hell was going on and, with each day that passed, Florence grew more sluggish, quieter, and unlike herself.

I licked my bottom lip in frustration and paused, waiting for her to devise an excuse.

“I don’t know,” she said, her lips barely moving. “What does it matter? They’ll fade in a few hours and I’ll be unblemished again.”

Her words were tight and laced with a venom I had never heard from her.

“Florence.” I sat up on my elbow to stare down at her, eyes still closed, breathing so deep she might as well have been asleep. It wasn’t like the time before; it wasn’t a trance; whatever was going on was bone deep. She was fully conscious of the shift but refused to talk about it. Perhaps she was trying to protect us, but it was only distracting to see her so… distant.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Why do you keep asking me silly questions, Clay?”

“Because I’m worried about you.” I didn’t hesitate.

“The Manor won’t let me die. There isn’t anything to worry about,” she answered so callously that I wasn’t sure she even heard herself.

“You say that like it means anything. You’ve said it before and…”

“Nothing kills me, Clay. I think we’ve proven that.”

She was barricading herself behind stone walls.

“Do you hear yourself?” I asked her and, finally, her eyes cracked open. When her brows kissed in a way that showed her frustration with me, and that time there was no urge to touch her, irritation overtook my every desire .

“Why am I not allowed to enjoy the sunshine while it’s here?” She asked.

“You know that’s not what I asked, Florence.” I ground my teeth together.

“I feel fine.” She stared at me, her shoulders rolling back into the grass as she reached for one of her books. “Read to me?” She asked, batting her long lashes at me.

“No.” I refused to take the book from her and she scowled at me, “I want to know what’s going on with you. I don’t want to read poetry and pretend.”

She laughed. The motion made the curls around her neck bounce as she sat up in the grass and crawled into my lap with her knees on either side of my thighs. She slowly started to unbutton my shirt but I pushed her hands away, rewarded only with an annoyed huff of air.

“I’ll go find Koen,” she snapped and tried to rise from my lap.

“That’s not how this works.” I grabbed her wrists and pulled her back, the words vibrating from the base of my throat. “Take what you want, but answer my question.”

Florence stared at me for a long moment, gauging where my head was before she opened her mouth again. “There’s nothing wrong, Clay.” She leaned in close, “I’m just looking for a pleasant distraction from everything happening around us. Is that so wrong?”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. “There is something else going on with you.”

“I just want your touch,” she whined.

“That might work on Koen, even Wes.” I stopped and pushed some of her hair off her shoulder with delicate fingers. But not me. Any small change from you can shift everything we’re doing. It’s not meant to make you feel studied or watched; I just need you to be honest with me.”

“I am being honest.” She swallowed, her throat bobbing gently as she dipped her head to meet my lips.

Distraction was a languid, honey-sweet kiss, as her fingers raked into my hair at the back of my neck. Her touch on my skin was cool, like ice, and goosebumps formed down my arms as I leaned back in the grass on my elbows.

Giving in to her.

I berated myself every second of it.

“Will you read to me now?” She broke away with a soft smile.

“Of course,” I surrendered. She slipped from my lap and grabbed the book to hand to me before her hands shifted to the belt on my pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked her as she quickly popped the button on my jeans and looked up at me through heavy lashes.

“Read, Mr. Dunn,” she quipped, tugging down the zipper, the palm of her hand brushing over my cock already straining in my pants.

My hips stuttered beneath her touch as I flipped open the book and searched the pages for a poem to read. My fingers caught on the page as she worked my boxers over my hips just enough for my shaft to pop free of the waistband. Her finger rolled over the tip, collecting the bead of precum that formed, and she stared up at me with sunshine reflected in her darkened green eyes.

“Before I found her, I had found.” I started to read the poem on the page. Madison Julius Cawein’s, Apocalypse. It was short but the feeling in my gut warned me that I probably wouldn’t make it very far with how Florence was staring at me. “Within my heart,” I gasped as her hands took hold of my shaft, so thick in her fingers. She wet her lips, starting to pump gently as she bent over, acutely aware of what she was doing to me.

Her tongue flicked over my head, gathering up the first traces of me that formed and causing my hips to arch into her touch like a needy idiot. The sun was hot as it poured down over us but her lips and fingertips were cool, forming the most tantalizing mix of pleasure. Florence traced her tongue in a slow, winding strip down the underside of my cock, my thighs trembling as her gaze turned up on me, wide and hazy with lust.

“As in a brook.” The words came out strangled as I gasped for air at the mere sight of her there. Her head turned upright to stare at me with her cheek resting against the throbbing length of my cock. The sun caught in her lashes and in the beads of sweat on her sweet, plump lips.

“Reflections of her: now a sound,” I recited slowly as she traced her tongue up my shaft, swirling over the head and pulling the length between her open lips.

A guttural moan escaped my throat as her lips tightened around my girth and she rolled my head around with her tongue. Florence pumped forward and backward, each stroke fueling the blaze that roared in my gut. Spit rolled down her chin as she drew back and looked up at me.

“Keep going.” She kissed my thigh.

“Of imaged beauty; now a look.” I stared at her with intent, wanting so badly to ravage her in the field. To feel how our bodies melted together beneath the hot sun. But Florence was determined to unravel me in her way.

My head fell back as she took my cock between her swollen lips, gliding hungrily down the entire length to the hilt. Hips bucking from the sensation, the head of my cock thrust against the back of her throat, dragging the most delicious whine from her that vibrated against my cock and balls.

“So when I found her…” I trailed off as her tongue slid back up my length and flicked at my head before dropping down again, “...gazing in.”

Spit formed on her lips, slick and hot. Florence started to move faster, forcing the pressure to build at a pace that made it hard to speak.

“Those Bibles of her eyes, above…” Each word from my mouth seemed to fuel her need to leave me completely undone. Her eyes flickered up to me, full of water, as she worked my cock into the back of her throat and sputtered around the side, her cheek hollowing out as she sucked harder. “All earth, I read no word of sin;”

A chuckle of amusement left her lips and the cool air that she fanned over my cock was heaven on the senses, forcing my knee to rise against her side and hold myself steady. Florence wrapped her fingers around the hilt, squeezing carefully as she worked the head with her tongue.

“Their holy chapters all were love…Florence.” I choked out her name as her hand started to pump faster. I wouldn’t last if she continued to do that with her tongue.

“Yes, Clay?” She abruptly stopped, peering up at me with the tip of my cock resting against her tongue and her fingers still softly pumping at the base of my shaft.

I moaned. “I…” My thighs clenched as she licked a delicate swipe, and her lips curved into that dangerous smile again.

“Finish the poem,” she demanded, scraping her teeth against my head.

“I read them through. I read and saw,” I groaned as she popped me back into her mouth, “The soul impatient of the sod. ”

“That’s good,” she praised, lapping up the slick that formed, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. The muffled sound of her voice with my cock filling her pretty mouth was enough for me to snap. My skin was on fire with a thousand tiny melting points at her praise.

“Her soul, that through her eyes, did draw…” I gripped the book tightly as she worked faster and sucked harder. Dragging the orgasm from the depths of my stomach one pump at a time until I couldn’t control myself. When her blown-out emerald eyes flickered back to mine for the final time, the tension snapped, and my gut tightened. “Mine to the higher love of God,” I cried out as I came.

My body reeled from the euphoria in tiny aftershocks, with my hips softly pumping up into her mouth until she pulled back, licking her lips, and sat back on her heels to stare at me. I leaned forward, collected her in my arms, and pulled her into the grass. Florence’s auburn hair fanned out over the grass, and her eyes reflected the clouds in the sky. I traced her face with my eyes.

“You are magnificent,” I huffed, but the compliment felt hollow even then. How was I supposed to explain to her how beautiful and incredible she was with a simple descriptor? I wanted to kiss every inch of her skin and read her poetry until we could barely keep our eyes open.

But the Manor loomed and the world felt suffocating.

Even after all that she was still cold to the touch, and this scared me to my core.

“I do enjoy the sound of your voice as you struggle to remain composed.” She laughed.

“I can’t resist you,” I sighed. “I’ll always read you poetry if it ends that way.”

She closed her eyes, laughing, and shook her head at me. “I think I just found a favorite poem,” she mused.

I dipped down against her, kissing her until she begged me to stop and the sun had sunk low in the sky.