When a confession goes wrong, Sutton Olivers blackmails the right man to help her complete the one thing on her mind: revenge.
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When the spitfire, Sutton Olivers falls in love with her sexy roommate...
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ＳＵＴＴＯＮ 34. brownies & pancakes
An imaginable pastel glow of a slow sunrise peeked through the chaste curtains shielding the vast natural windows, adorning the ruffled sheets covering the sleeping body laid amidst. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths as his arms clung onto the pillow he slept on. Waves of unruly brown hair spread beautifully disheveled among the soft cushion. A strand of black words was inscribed into his skin and ran down the muscles of his back. The satin sheets covered up the lower half of his body.
The faint and misty air blew around the room as my fingers traced the tattoo on his back. Peace soaked into my body from the warmth of the sheets as they covered my naked body. I sat on my knees basking in the idyllically incoherent feeling cascading into me as I gazed at the man sleeping beside me. Vulnerable and quiet.
I wiggled my hips allowing the rewarding soreness to pass through me before yawning softly and stretching my arms up above my head. My fingertips touched the streams of light above me creating a shadow against the wall.
I smiled to myself. Memories of the night plagued my mind. Light touches and soft kisses lathered my body as he skimmed his hands across my body— an explorer paving his way into unknown lands, mapping out every curve of my hips, the gentleness of my skin, and the touches that left me in shivers.
That night was something different, something more; I felt it and I think he knows that too.
Usually, the strokes of time would come to capture me and the feelings of doubt and regret would wash over me in devastating waves. By now, I would be thinking of a certain person with alcohol addiction and a fucking desperate need for a therapist. I would be wondering if this was hurting him; if what I was doing was making him feel the same way I did when I saw him come in early in the morning with hickies laddered on his neck. Then I would escape quietly. My clothes disheveled, my hair tangled, no connection given— not even a hello. Gone in the dawn of morning.
But I felt none of that; the urge to leave, the guilt of betrayal, or the overwhelming sadness for a boy who never showed up. My mind seemed to rid itself of every emotion that didn't make my heart spark. Every breath I take aches with heaviness and something I couldn't describe. Something untouchable, invisible but definitely felt. I couldn't tell if that was a bad thing or something better for myself.
My hand skimmed over the birthmark on his shoulder, creating swirls and undiagnosed shapes before slowly sliding down towards the red trails of nail marks. My mind is brought right back to last night. A blush overcomes my cheeks. I can recall the way Keegan gripped me close, our pounding chests together as our breath cling together in heaps of pants and moans. The sweet kisses turned into heated ones mixed with the taste of anger, passion, and desire. The delicate handling of my body as Keegan poured every lucid moment he could into me knowing how precious I was to him. Our bodies gave into sleep once we had finished. However, awoken in the middle of the night, we still craved for more of each other; for more of something that we've never felt before. We connected again, deeper than ever. At one time we had lost count on how many times we'd done it. At first, he was on top, then I was, and we switched throughout the night. I'll never forget the soft ripples of his back muscles as his body crashed into mine, the sweat lingering from our bodies or the way he whispered my name into my ear.
