Page 9 of Tasting Clementine

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“Come on,” she says, “let’s swim!”

She tugs hard and pulls us both in fully clothed.

“Clemmie!” I flip my hair out of my face. I’m standing in the deep end of the pool, and the water comes to my shoulders. “What the fuck was that?”

She throws her head back and laughs. Her laugh is like a tinkling wind chime; it’s contagious and carries through the air. She swims forward. Her dress floats around her like a strange jellyfish, and she comes to me. Her arms cling to mine, and she wraps her legs around my torso underwater.

“Have you felt like this about someone before?” she asks. I try my hardest to ignore how good her body feels and keep my arms pressed to my sides. “You know, like the way you feel about me?”

She looks like a china doll with high cheekbones and pouty lips. She reminds me of Mom before she resigned herself to a life of starvation and heroin. Dad has a type. A strand of wet hair falls over her face.

“Of course not,” I say, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “It’s different with you, Clemmie.”

“You may not want to face your thoughts, but I can see them,” she murmurs, pressing her tits tightly against my chest.

“I think we need to get you out of those wet clothes before you freeze to death.”

I carry her and wade through the water, placing her firmly on the side. There’s underfloor heating in the pool house, but the temperature drops at night. Plus, I can’t have her rubbing against me much longer.

“Fine,” she relents, getting out. The wet fabric hugs every delicious curve of her body. “Have it your way.”

I avert my eyes as she pulls her dress over her head but cast a glance as she strolls to a stack of dry towels wearing nothing but her lace panties. She knows I’m watching. She walks slower, and her hips sway with confidence beyond her years.

“Maybe we should warm up in the sauna?” she suggests, finally wrapping a towel around herself and tipping her head toward a door. Dad has more money than sense. Clemmie may have been locked up for most of her life, but at least it was a five-star fucking prison.

“Fine,” I growl.

Before hauling myself out of the water, I wait until she disappears into the steamy, red-lit room. I peel off my shirt, step out of my shorts, and head to the sauna in my boxers.

I walk into a wall of heat.

“Holy fuck,” I exhale. “It’s hot.”

It’s been a while since I’ve experienced heat like this. It reminds me of spending summers in the trailer without AC.

“I like it in here,” Clemmie says.

I sit next to her, and the scorching wood burns the back of my thighs.

Clemmie’s eyes are closed, and her arms sprawl across the slats. If the heat didn’t make me short of breath, the sight of her topless would. I look between her thighs, relieved to see her pussy appears to be a normal size again.

“I told you it would go back,” she says with a smile.

Fuck. I didn’t realize that she had opened her eyes again.

“You shouldn’t be messing with shit like that,” I huff, crossing my arms.

She shuffles closer. The heat catches in my throat, and beads of sweat form over our skin. Her thigh touches mine and sends an electric shock straight to my cock. It takes me off guard, and my head is spinning so hard that I don’t stop her from taking my hand.

“See?” Clemmie whispers, placing my hand between her legs. “I’m fine. It didn’t hurt. It felt good.”

I should yank my hand away, but she forces my fingers to stroke the front of her panties. She’s already wet, and the fabric is slick. An invitation for more. She holds me there and pushes her hips against me. She moans before I realize what she’s doing.

“You feel so good,” she murmurs. I want to play with her, but I know I shouldn’t. “Mmm.”

“This isn’t—”

“Please, August,” she begs, grinding against my palm. “I want you to make me feel good.”


Tags: Holly Bloom Paranormal