Page 57 of Thorn Kiss
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Madi
Midnight struck, but I was still wide awake. I should have been buried beneath the blankets and snoring, but every part of me sparked like a live wire. I curled over my tablet, my wrist brace on, pen in hand, sketching things I absolutely shouldn’t have been sketching.
But, that was the best part about being an artist. I loved drawing cute scenes as much as the next person, but I also loved drawing sexy tension.
Right now, that tension was in the form of Dallas’s hands.
They were almost all I could think about. How rough they were, and yet how gentle he was. The restraint, the control, the ease. I swallowed hard as I sketched the vein that ran along the top of his hand.
God, I was a simp. Not only was a simp, I was a perverted one. Ever since we’d had coffee together, all I could think about was what it would be like to explore kinky sex together. It’d been three days, and yet the man was still on my mind.
Ourdatewas on my mind.
Just what exactly was I getting myself into on our upcoming date? Did I want to explore all the kinks our conversation held the promise of?
Every time, the answer that came to mind was yes.Of courseit was yes. I owed it to myself to explore some fun with someone as sexy as Dallas, didn’t I? Especially after years of wanting more.
Justin and I had always been mismatched in the bedroom. My libido was a hell of a lot higher than his, to the point where he’d get annoyed when I tried to initiate anything sexual. He wanted to be the one in control, but then when it came to actual sex—he was vanilla as they came.
Spanking? Out of the question.
Bondage? Why would he ever take the time to learn how to tie knots?
Orgasms? I got really fucking good at faking them. Too good.
The only thing I wasn’t sure of now was June.
Kissing her had been a surprise, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I loved her tattoos. I loved her hair. I loved how good her lips had felt against mine.
Even thinking about it now made my thighs squeeze together.
I wantedherin my bed.
Just as much as I wanted to be in Dallas’s.
Admittedly, I’d already done a little light stalking. I learned that June’s floral shop had been in a couple of Texan magazines. Whynot Bloom was a small-town darling. All of the pictures on Instagram were of her floral arrangements, the mums she’d mentioned, or her with her two friends—Avery and Evie.
I was a little envious of their friendship. One of my wishes for myself was that I’d be able to nurture new friendships with people who wouldn’t side with someone like Justin.
People who actually likedme.
I lifted my pen for a second, staring down at my screen. The page was covered in a dozen different sketches and poses.
Truly, I was a sucker for a hand flex.
I could feel the hyper-focus setting in. I took a moment to straighten my spine and stretch. There was a proper desk and ergonomic chair in the corner of the bedroom by a large window. It was nice that they even thought about that sort of thing. I had a feeling that was Avery’s touch.
Everyone here was sothoughtful. To a point that made me wonder if I was selfish. I wasn't sure if I would have ever put the amount of care into a space like this that they had. The room was large with a small kitchen and a bathroom with one of those tubs I wanted to drape myself in for hours on end. During the day, the sunlight was perfect. The bed was stupidly comfortable. The hotel was quiet. I'd only run into a few guests here and there, but most of them minded their business.
If I didn't have reality breathing down my neck, I'd want to stay here forever.
I had enough money to get by for the next three months. Even though I'd always been on a budget, I'd still managed to be smart about it. Now that I wasn't paying so much in rent, that was helpful too. Plus, my severance pay was a little bit of a cushion.
I just needed to get my shit together. I needed to update my portfolio and apply to other studios and actually create animations for them to look at.
The whole reason I was here was to create something. To feel inspired by Whynot.
