Line that blur

Fiona’s POV

I woke up with a splash of the same emotions I went to bed with last night.

Sunlight slipped through the curtains in thin, golden lines, resting gently on the edge of my bed. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, replaying the previous night in my head.

A soft, unfamiliar warmth lived in my chest but my phone rang, breaking the silence and I jerked.

It was Mum.

I smiled and answered.

“My baby, are you enjoying your stay in London?" she asked after the pleasantries.

“I really love it here mum, it’s peaceful and kind of matches me with good people,” I explained and I could tell she was beaming behind the phone.

“If you want, we can arrange your stay over there if you want to stay,” she suggested.

“Um… I'll think about it, Mum, “ I answered.

We talked for a while. She asked how I was feeling, if I had eaten, if London was treating me well. Dad’s voice echoed faintly in the background, asking her to put the call on speaker.

For the first time in a long time, speaking to them didn’t feel heavy, it felt more like home.

In the middle of our conversation, a knock sounded on my door.

“Hold on, Mum,” I said. “Someone’s at the door. I’ll call you back.”

I hung up, walked to the door and opened it.

A delivery man stood there holding a huge bouquet of roses. Red. Fresh. Beautiful.

Behind the flowers was a backpack filled with neatly packed food containers.

I blinked in surprise.

“For Miss Fiona,” he said.

“That’s me.”

I collected them slowly, confused and curious. “From who,” I asked.

“He said you will see it,” the delivery man answered.

The moment I closed the door, my phone buzzed.

A message came in.

Austin: Did you get the flowers?

I smiled without meaning to.

“Yes. Thank you. This is so thoughtful.”

But as I stared at the roses, a nervous feeling crept in.

This was sweet, in fact very sweet but maybe too sweet.

Everything felt like it was moving faster than my heart could keep up with.

My emotions were still scattered from everything that had happened in the past weeks. I wasn’t sure where to place Austin in my life yet, especially when I haven't gotten over jalen yet and the attention both comforted and overwhelmed me.

I quickly typed again.

“Can you come over to my hotel room today?”

His reply came instantly.

“Of course. I’m at your disposal”.

I exhaled slowly and placed my phone back down.

I went on about my day, I slipped into my gym wear that hugged my skin tightly, giving away my curves unapologetically. I jogged to the hotel gym and lifted some heavy dumbbells and grabbed some matcha and cookies on my way back to my room.

I pushed my room door open, had a quiet breakfast while watching my favourite artistic show before deciding to paint again until it was evening

.

Before Austin arrived, I poured myself a glass of wine, washed off all the paints on me and slipped into a comfortable nightie. I gulped down the wine, then another and I realized I was slowly turning into an alcohol freak. I told myself it was to calm my nerves but I was already feeling the pull between my thighs.

By the time the doorbell rang, my head felt light and warm.

I walked to the door and opened it.

Austin stood there in his tailored suit, his eyes swept over me before he could stop them, I hadn’t thought much about it until I saw the way his breath caught slightly.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice lower than usual.

For a second, we just stood there looking at each other.

Then he stepped forward and pulled me into a warm hug that felt innocent but wasn’t

When he pulled back, his thumb brushed my lips and lingered. His eyes searched mine, asking a silent question.

Before I could think too much, our lips met.

The kiss was deep. Hungry. Emotional.

Nothing like the gentle kiss from the night before, it carried so much passion and desire, his hands roamed my body softly as he pulled me deeper into his hold before he deepened the kiss.

When we finally pulled away, we were both breathing heavily, I was already wet and wanting more.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t just—i couldn’t control myself.”

“Don’t stop,” I whispered. I didn’t want him to stop, I just wanted to feel something I hadn't felt in a while. I pulled him closer and our lips clashed again.

This time slower, but more intense.

We moved toward the bed without breaking the kiss. My fingers clutched his shirt; his hands held my waist gently, as though he was afraid I might change my mind.

He laid me on my back and hovered on top of me, kissing every inch of my body, my body curled under his touch and I moaned like I was starving. He slid my nightie up, exposing my tits to the cool breeze of the AC in the room before pressing his warm tongue on my hard nipple—his second hand pinched my other nipple and twisted it softly.

“Hmmm,” I moaned. I arched my back as he flipped his tongue on my nipple, my pussy throbbed, I could tell I was so soaked when I smeared my laps against each other. I couldn’t stop moaning at every touch. He was so good with his hands and tongue.

He slowly moved his lips to the side of my neck, guiding himself up with one hand and gave me a gentle bite. His second hand slid between my thighs, when he felt how wet I was, he groaned.

He palmed my entrance and started circling my clit with a mild pressure.

“Hmmm, more please,” I begged like I was hungry for it, I knew i was supposed to stop me and believe me i wanted to stop but i couldn’t. I found myself arching into his touch, matching his every move until my orgasm rushed to the edge.

“I’m gonna cum,” I said sharply and clutched his shirt tightly, moaning loudly until I spilled the juice all over his hand. He locked eyes with me and licked his hand clean. I couldn’t explain it but that was the hottest thing I've seen a man do with my juice and it made my pussy jerk. Then he kissed me short and softly.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he lay by my side, "I've never been better.” The room is quiet except for the sound of our breathing.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind slowly returning to clarity as the effect of the wine faded.

A strange mix of calm and guilt settled inside me.

Austin turned to look at me. He brushed a strand of hair from my face gently. “I don’t want you to ever feel pressured with me.”

“I know,” I said, and I did know, that was the problem.

He was kind, too gentle and patient,and I was still broken in places I didn’t fully understand, I felt like a part of me still belonged to another person.

“Austin, i think i was us to take things really slow, i still have a lot of things i’m dealing with and I don't want you caught up in between my mess,”

“I get it fiona, i also don’t want to rush you so i’m willing to wait okay? But I don't want you to regret any of your actions with me,” he concluded and I nodded.

After a while, he stood up to leave, sensing my quiet mood without me having to explain it.

At the door, he paused.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

When he left, the room felt bigger, drowning me in my own thoughts.

I looked at the roses on the table and felt my chest tighten slightly.

I wasn’t ready.

But I had crossed a line that made things more complicated than before.

I sat on the edge of the bed, buried my head in my hands.

I didn’t regret what happened.

But I didn’t understand what I was supposed to do.