Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Veyra said this conditioning was for sex, but Maelis disagreed and said it was for our husbands. To which, Elsha replied, “Same fucking thing,” in a very snobbish tone that reminded me so much of Clara Birch, I almost took Maelis’s side on the matter just out of spite.
After the powerwalking, we went to the beach and swam in the canal. All the girls had brought bathing suits in their tiny backpacks, but I didn’t know about the swimming, so obviously, I hadn’t.
Maelis had brought an extra with me in mind, but it was so plain and… well, ugly, I declined and just bought my own from one of the shops.
Only after I got home that night did I realize I hadn’t told them about Finn. But I was sure I would the following day.
Which was painting. All four of my new friends had already started their paintings, so when we got to the studio their canvases were covered in sheets from their last session.
I got a brand-new canvas and spent most of the morning just staring at it, wondering what it might turn in to. Eventually, I just picked up a brush and got on with it and after the session was over, I realized it was turning into a picture of Finn and I embracing in a whirlwind kind of way. Kind of like the butterflies that came to me the first day we met Xi.
At least, there were the beginnings of that image.
After painting, we had lunch in a movie theater. I was so enamored with the giant screen that played out a drama, I forgot to eat my nachos.
Again, when I got home that night, I realized I still hadn’t mentioned Finn.
When I wake up on day five, Finn is staring down at me with glowing blue eyes.
I gasp and sit up. “Finn! Your eyes!”
He just smiles at me, reaching for my wrist. The pressure point has gotten interesting over the past couple of days, because not only can he make me light up, but if he strokes it in just the right way all the spark begins to collect and throb between my legs.
Which is what it’s doing right now, and it’s enough to drive a girl crazy.
“Do you like them?” he asks me, winking to indicate he’s asking about the eyes.
“They’re… bright. Is that spark—” But I can’t finish my sentence, because he’s gently dragging his fingertips up and down my arms with the lightest, feathery touch, and the sensation that was only between my legs a moment ago fills my whole core.
I close my eyes, breathing deeply.
We have sex every morning, and every morning, he tries something new. That first time, it was the wall sex in the shower. On the second day, he bent me over the couch. Which took me back to that first night we met. When he was pretending I was Clara and I was trying not to like it.
Only this time, it was all about me. He dirty-talked me constantly. Fisting my long, red hair hard enough to pull my head back. That’s how I came that morning, head all the way back, staring up into his eyes.
After the third augmentation, the sex was agonizingly slow. He was on top of me, inside me, his chest on mine. And our heartbeats synced up. That purring noise coming from inside his chest almost lulling me into a dream state as we made love.
I craved him that day. All the while I was painting, I was thinking of how perfect we are. How connected and united. That’s probably why the picture I started painting that day was of us wrapped in a whirlwind of spark.
Now, here we are, the morning after the fourth augmentation, and his eyes are glowing, and once again, he’s found a new way to turn me on. Because he’s stroking me into oblivion, and I’m lighting up, ready to lose it at any moment.
I want to pinch myself, or make him stop so I can ask him if this is real—because it’s so perfect.
My life went from a literal disaster to this, in the span of a week.
Not only did we hop into another dimension filled with real gods and worldly delights, but I’m pregnant. We’re going to get married. We’re going to have a family. And there’s nothing that Clara Birch or that monster she’s attached herself to, can do about it. Because Finn will fight for us, and he will win.
I know he will win. Each day he grows stronger, smarter, better.
“Come for me, Jasina,” he whispers into my ear, his fingers now between my legs.
And I do. Immediately.
Before it’s even over, Finn lifts me up off the bed and places me on top of him. He gently caresses my breast with one hand while the other grabs my hip, lifting me up a little so he can press himself against my opening.