When love is not madness, it is not love — and Genevieve was only sure of three things. First, her lover was old enough to be her father. Second, he was her mother’s boss. Third, she was irrevocably, unconditionally in love with him. It was madness.
View MoreJasper didn't feelanythingto the new promise—the promise the pair would be back in the courtroom soon, speaking of a man half the girl's flesh. He had thought he'd feel at least a twinge of angst to the idea... but suddenly, he felt it would be nothing close to even an effort if the girl was in it with him.
"Youbìtch," The man spat the words as she tore her arm from his grip, fingertips tightening threateningly. "Just wait and you'll see me there—in fact, you'll see me far sooner than you think. You're still mine,"
Ambiguous. It was something ambiguous.The act of holding someone's eyes, connecting Irises shattered and bottomless. The act of eye contact. The act of something so v
Genevieve sighed the words, her hands clutching his, nails delicately biting the skin of his knuckles. She raised her hips from the mattress to meet his. He lowered his lips to the skin of her neck as his lengths became steady, her legs holding the man against her.He groaned against her skin as he moved between her thighs, finally lifting his lips to her own once more. Her thin moans failed to slow - lips moving against his with an unusual chorus of gasps and pleasured whimpers.
There was something oddly subtle about the way sunlight of a youth fell against the ivory skin of a familiar girl. Her frame had become kin of the sheets, Jasper's hand kin of her skin. She writhed and gasped in the light of morning, lips parted by a wide girth of breath, eyebrows knitted and fingers clasping on the dishevelled, crumpled linen of the bedding beneath her.The man lay above her, watching gasping breaths tumble from between her collarbones and through her lips as he offered her sweet, small smiles.
The man smiled with her words, hands lifting affectionately to the frame of Genevieve's face, marked by her ears. Their eyes remained fixed on one another's comfortably, breaths warm together. "You're somehow hexing, kitten,"Her heart stammered in her chest as if it were to be fumbling, stuttering at a loss of words; a loss of breath and inner balance, tipped by a shy affection as his words played with the spoiling of her heart. "I like that one,"
"Have you done your last task?""Yes,""-And how did that go?"Genevieve inhaled deeply, one leg crossing over the other, eyes fixing to the familiar, older, worn-looking man
"Okay, so; you have to work and I have to meet up with a friend to catch up on school—what time of the day does that leave us to have a little playtime?" Genevieve's question was sweet as she rolled to her other side, eyes meeting the may who lay behind her moments before, now in front.He smiled softly as she settled before him, a soft and innocent brow quirked with the tone of the question, her hands tucking around the lip of the duvet against them. Her eyes held his without fear, her gaze strong yet vulnerable and giving in a sense the man could not place.
The man's hands moved to beneath the hair at the back of her head, fingers brushing a raised scar beneath in a way strangely prudent."If the phone or doorbell rings, we're ignoring it," His eyes held hers with a sense of content, a gentle smile staining the shadows of his own lips."Can you carry me?" the girl whispered the words after a long moment, laughing giddily as the man sl
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