Over The Dotted Line Novels & Stories

I was packing my hospital bag, weighed down by my belly, when I noticed a note sitting on the table. 'Babe, there's a planetary alignment that only happens once every 77 years and I just got pulled through a time portal. Don't miss me. See you when I see you.' The bag slipped from my hands and hit the floor. My husband, Jasper Wynn, had snuck off again behind my back, abandoning his wife who was days away from giving birth. In our three years of marriage, the excuses he came up with were getting more and more ridiculous than the last.

The air was thick with the sour, bitter coffee scent and a suffocatingly low pressure. Lester had two massive dark circles under his eyes as he struggled to map out title-division risks for the South District plot on the whiteboard. Executives sat up straight, not daring to breathe too loudly.

The code was clear: H-U-L-L--S-P-L-I-T-T-I-N-G. C-O-L-E--D-O-W-N. L-E-O--N-O-T--B-R-E-A-T-H-I-N-G. T-H-E--I-R-O-N--K-I-N-G--I-S--A-T--T-H-E--D-O-O-R.

I took that as permission to keep going just the lightest trail of kisses down to the hinge of her jaw, then lower, to the sensitive spot beneath her ear that always made her breath hitch. “James…” “I’m not taking anything,” I whispered against her skin. “Just… looking. Touching a little. You can still say stop.” Her fingers flexed once, then slid up my forearms, over my biceps, until they rested lightly on my shoulders. I felt the way her thighs tightened under my hands. I eased back just enough to meet her eyes again. “Tell me where the line is tonight.” She swallowed. “No sex. Not all the way.”

Wilson took a good look at Dash and took two hurried steps away from him. "What's with the look?" Dash asked. "Uh?" "And why did you move like that?" "I don't understand what you're saying." Wilson played the ignorance card, shaking his head but looking away in guilt. Dash opened his mouth to say something but decided against it. "Look over there! That red dot." He said instead, pointing at a red dot that was moving slower than the others. "What's wrong with it?" Wilson asked.

He squinted, unsure. “It’s not finished yet, that’s why you don’t see it. We’ve only walked three points. But a fourth point would complete it.” I drew a straight line to complete the pattern. His jaw dropped as he recognized it. “A cross,” he said quietly. “We were meant to walk in the shape of a cross.” “Yes,” I said excitedly. “And if we follow the line, if we complete the cross symmetrically, it only leads to one place.” We both followed the line I drew.

He even made me call Mia and explain the situation. Ash(?!): Okay, Good you can call the other guy A Olivia: A? Airheaded? Ash(?!): No, not airheaded... Olivia: You three dotted me :0. What does that mean? Are those dots annoyed? Tired? Endeared? Ash(?!): Two of those Olivia: I'll assume it's endeared twice because I'm that endearing. That's right Ash(?!): are you hurt? Olivia: A bit bruised, but nothing too bad. I'll survive

Dots danced immediately, then his reply, "Tomorrow. Can I come to your side?" Your side, his code for my apartment, that cramped walk up with the leaky faucet and view of the alley. Tomorrow. I chewed my lip, arousal still thrumming, pussy lips slick now, rubbing together with every shift. But tomorrow's the Sabbath day. Words formed slowly, deliberately. "Tomorrow's the Sabbath day, we should do well to keep it holy." A pause, longer this time, then he said, "Let's do a video call right now. Wanna see you fingering yourself."

Her Alpha mate came by her side, wrapping an arm around her waist while her eyes glowed brighter. "I won't, I promise," I stuttered, afraid. "I love Connor and will never hurt him, and of course, your family secret is safe with me." Her eyes dimmed and returned to their sharp green color. "Good," she said with a smile, and I took a deep breath in and exhaled in relief that she'd calmed down. "Connor says you're a vegetarian," she went on to say. "Yes, ma'am," I said. "Please call me Emmeline."

“Do you two at least cuddle after, or is that reserved for whoever handles his offshore accounts?” Adam rolls his eyes. “Cuddle? Babe, I’m lucky if he remembers I exist once he zips up. He’s got the post-nut clarity of a hedge fund apocalypse.” I smirk. “You’re a slut.” “I’m a slut with boundaries,” he retorts. “There’s a difference. Mostly spelled out in NDAs.” I turn toward him fully, trying to shake the tension coiled at the base of my spine. But he sees it. Of course he does.