Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (young adult books to read TXT) 📗

And then, after he saved me, we’d live happily ever after.

Except, of course, my life wasn’t a movie. He wasn’t the handsome male lead. I wasn’t in danger from anyone but myself.

And I couldn’t be saved.

Not to mention, he was crazy hot and I was just… well… crazy.

So, yeah, no cliché romance happening there.

The elevator doors slid open, and he gestured to it, letting me step out first.

“See you,” I mumbled even though it was a stupid as hell thing to say to a stranger I’d likely never see again.

He chuckled. “Yeah, see you.”

Yup, totally not cut out to be the lead in my own life, much less a romance movie.

Even more desperate to get away, I hustled outside to catch my bus.

When I got into my building, I grabbed the mail.

More catalogs and even more coupons.

So.

Many.

Coupons.

There must’ve been some recently-moved mailing list I’d wound up on because they kept coming.

Either that or companies really fucking hated the earth and were determined to cut down every tree in existence for the sole purpose of offering me five percent off ugly lamps.

Even if I had money—which I did not—I had no clue what I’d want to buy. The stack was going into the recycling with the rest.

I turned down the hall toward my apartment with my eyes aimed at the ground. Sure enough, like the previous four days, flowers were waiting for me.

Well, waiting for someone else because clearly the delivery man sucked at his job and kept leaving them at the wrong address.

Like the others, I brought that vase to the lobby and left it on a table next to the one from the day before.

It’s starting to look like a florist shop in here.

I started to turn when something niggled at me. I looked back at the flowers, studying them for a moment. They were the same. Same matte black vase. Same bright bursts of wildflowers.

But something was different about the two.

Before I could place what it was, the main door opened and chattering voices filled the space. Since I’d had more than enough small talk to last a lifetime, I abandoned my floral inspection and retreated to my apartment.

Finally.

Chapter Six

Cynical

Him

THE CENTER. THE shelter. Home.

It made it easy to learn her schedule because there wasn’t much to it. Other than the one-off dinner with her sister, she rotated between the three places.

No dates. No girls’ nights. No hobbies.

No life.

I was unsurprised to see her go straight home after the center. Just as I was unsurprised to see her enter her apartment without the flowers.

What’s wrong? Is it so hard to believe they’d be for you?

My already hardened dick jerked as she headed to the bedroom. I wouldn’t stroke it—not right then, at least. I didn’t have time. Knowing I’d have no control if I saw her undress, I waited for her to return to the living room.

When a few minutes passed and she was still in her room, I adjusted my viewpoint—and my hard-on. I expected to see her changing into her pajamas like she always did when she got home.

I was wrong.

Naked and spread on the bed, her hand moved frantically between her legs. I could almost taste her wetness. I could almost smell her sweetness. I could almost feel her desperation.

I didn’t want almost.

I wanted reality.

Fuck my plans.

Shoving my pants down, I was already stroking my cock before it was fully freed. I kept time with her, my fist rising and falling at the same frenzied pace she set. But where her motions seemed driven solely by the need for release, mine were driven solely by my need for her.

My gaze moved from her pussy to her face, but it was turned so I couldn’t see her expression. Her blond hair was spread like chaotic sunbeams that I wanted to wrap around my fists and pull. My focus was drawn down as she spread her legs wider. Showing me the pretty scars that lined the inside of her thighs.

Showing me the heaven between them.

I tightened my fist until I had to bite back a pained groan. I didn’t want to come yet. Not until she did.

If she did.

Because while I was fighting to keep from shooting my load everywhere, she seemed to be fighting to find it.

I could help you.

In a lot more ways than one.

That thought nearly sent me over, precum dripping steadily as I slowed my motions before there was no stopping.

I was beginning to wonder if she would give up—and if I’d give in—when her already frenzied touch grew wilder and jerkier. Her legs thrashed, and the thought of it being my fingers her slick wetness coated sent me over as I came with her.

Catching my breath, I didn’t look away as I wiped myself off.

When she sat up, there was no languidness. No peace. No spark of happiness or relief or contentment. Her movements were stiff and weary.

As though her pleasure had only brought more pain.

Don’t worry.

I will help you.

And soon.

Briar

For comfortable beds

WELL, THAT WAS different.

And hot.

And then crushingly disappointing.

I’d thought I was smarter than stupid fairy tales. I’d thought any romantic bone in my body had long ago rotted away. I’d thought my cynical black heart was dead.

I’d thought wrong.

Because after I’d closed myself into my apartment, my brain had been stuck on the flowers in the lobby. It’d twisted and warped the accidental delivery into something more. Once I’d stopped fighting the fantasy, it’d been the thing I’d needed.

That the flowers were for me.

That like right out of a cliché movie, I had an admirer.

That someone thought I was sexy.

That I was desired.

Wanted.

And the star of my twisted fantasy was none other than the hot bodyguard with the perfect everything.

It may have been enough to get me off but the reality that followed that high was a steep plummet. My already bruised psyche was left banged up and suffering from whiplash.

Sitting up, I pulled on my pajamas and tried to hype myself up for the long