Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

“Fuck, flower.”

I picked up my tea and blew on it. “I spent too long in a drugged stupor, I haven’t been able to bring myself to try meds again.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said, and it was the exact right thing to say.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Were you asking because you think I need to be medicated?”

“No, I was asking because I want to make sure you have everything you need.”

“Do you think I need to be medicated?” I wasn’t trying to pick a fight. I also wasn’t putting on my waders and grabbing a pole to fish for compliments. I was just curious what he thought.

“That’s not for me to say. I’m not your doc.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “And I’m not you. You know what’s best for yourself.”

God, something so simple was enough to make my eyes burn with unexpected and unfamiliar tears. I’d spent a fucking lifetime with everyone else telling me what I needed to do. What meds I needed to take. How I needed to dress, what thoughts I needed to have, and who I needed to be.

You know what’s best for yourself.

It was almost as good as you’re in control.

“Can I ask you another question?” I asked.

“Told you, anything.”

“Can we still get milkshakes?”

He grinned.

I grinned right back.

And it wasn’t even a little bit forced.

_______________

HE WAS KILLING me.

Or maybe I was going to kill him.

On my knees in front of him, I tipped my ass. When that didn’t work, I wiggled my hips.

When that still didn’t work, I got bossy.

“Faster,” I demanded.

“No.”

“Harder,” I tried.

“No.”

With his thick cock gliding in and out, slow and leisurely as if I wasn’t about to lose my mind, Alexander slowly fucked me.

“Please, Alexander,” I moaned.

He slammed in harder before returning to his easy pace—even though it seemed to take some effort. “Stay the night again.”

Other than our trip for milkshakes, we’d spent all day hanging around his house, watching movies and having sex. He hadn’t seemed to care that I didn’t want to go out or do anything wild and exciting. In fact, he’d been as content as me to laze about.

Especially thanks to aforementioned sex.

His penchant for sexual manipulation may have been setting a dangerous precedent, but I didn’t care. I liked sleeping next to him, so it wasn’t a hardship.

Not to mention, I would have agreed to snuggle with a cactus so long as Alexander made me come.

“Yes, fine, definitely,” I agreed, rocking against him.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. “Take it, flower. Take what you want. What you need.”

The raw, weighty way he said it, as if he needed me to need him, sent a surge of arousal and desperation through me. I rocked harder and faster, my thigh muscles burning with the effort.

I was close. So fucking close. But each time it was within reach, my movements grew frustratingly uncoordinated and my orgasm was yanked away.

Alexander read my body and took over. He didn’t talk to me like I was delicate, and he didn’t fuck me like it, either.

He slammed into me.

Roughly.

Brutally.

Knowing that I could take everything he gave and more. Knowing that I wanted it. Needed it.

And needing me just as much. As if he was the crazed one.

My thoughts splintered. My body splintered.

My whole fucking soul splintered.

I savored the quiet and peace in my head and the pleasure rioting through my body as I came. I was vaguely aware of Alexander’s low, rough groans, but I was too lost to savor those.

Once we were done, my knees slid out from under me, and I collapsed in a content and graceless heap. Alexander followed me down and gave me his weight. His lips skimmed my spine as he slid his cock free, sending a shiver through me and goosebumps across my skin.

Resting his cheek against my back, I was sure he could feel and hear the way he made my heart pound. “So damn alive, flower.”

And so damn happy.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dam

Briar

For new nephews

THE THING ABOUT happiness was… it was fleeting.

And had I believed for even the briefest second that Alexander, his delicious cooking, and his magic dick were enough to cure me—which I hadn’t—the sharp slap of reality would’ve cleared that right up.

Because as I held my cell to my ear, I listened to my sister.

My debt-ridden sister.

My new-puppy-mama sister.

My sister who’d acted insane and illogical and… well, more like me.

“You’re telling me you paid fifteen thousand dollars—dollars that you do not have—for a dog I could have gotten you for free since I work at the rescue? And now you don’t want to go on the date that comes with the dog? I thought I was the fucked-up one, Aria. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Aria slipped into shrink-mode to give me a mini lecture about how I talked about myself, but I was too busy trying to keep my chill to care.

A full body shudder wracked my body as I thought about Aria being the one to get all those red labeled past due notices. Only in her case, they likely wouldn’t be filled with credit card offers or car warranty junk. It wasn’t that money stressed me out no matter what. Okay, it wasn’t just that. It was that Aria was the best person I knew. She didn’t deserve hardship and hassle.

She deserved easy for once in her life.

She’s okay.

She’s an adult.

She can handle it.

Steering our conversation back to the hot firefighter she could also handle, I gave her the pep talk she’d called me for.

It was a little more deadpanned-greeting-card-platitudes and a little less pep, but it was the best I could offer. Which was why I told her it must suck for her that I’m who she was forced to call when she needs a hype man.

“It doesn’t suck. Because I love you… even if you are a smartass.”

She may have lightened her statement with humor, but it was still too much for me, and I quickly changed the subject. “Let me pick Muppet up in the morning.