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Lyric
“This is hopeless,” I groan, dropping my head forward. “We’ve been at this for hours, and there’s nothing in these books to tell us what’s going on.”
“There has to be something,” Story mutters, dragging her finger along the worn page of the book. She pauses and looks up at me, her eyes twinkling. “I just realized you have your very own Jamie Fraser.”
A grin spreads across my face. “I wonder if I can bring Jamie Fraser to life, too? Have a little Scottish threesome? A Highlander double cream pie?”
Sighing wistfully, I drop my head back as I recline in the oversized chair. I stare up at the ceiling, listening as Story reads to herself.
That would be the ultimate dream come true. Both men undulating their hips, sheathing their meat swords inside me, taking me for a first-class ride to pound town…
“Tell me again what you did,” she says, and I blink, my fantasy floating away on a phantom wind. My body slides from the chair, and I land on the floor in a puddle.
“That’s all!” I cry, the torture of reliving those few moments making me insane. “All I did was write my wish on a piece of paper and burn it.”
“And that’s it?” She squats down next to me, and I grimace.
“It looks like you’re about to push one out in that position,” I mutter. She shudders at the words but quickly regains her composure again.
“Think, Lyric. Think! What did you say?!” She grabs my shoulders and shakes me so hard, my head snaps back and forth.
“Enough!” I cry. “I’ll tell you anything!”
“Tell me what you said!”
“I said?—”
Pausing, I think back to last night.
I wrote the wish on the paper.
Burned it.
Watched it burn…
What else?
“Oh,” I breathe, snapping my fingers. “I said true love’s jizz, as instructed.”
Her face lights up, and she plops down onto her ass beside me. “Well, there you go. All you have to do is get his delicious spunk, and that’s that. He’s yours.”
“Oh, done.”
“You work fast,” she laughs, and I roll my eyes.
“Like you don’t.” I give her a pointed look, and she doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest as she nods. If anything, she looks utterly proud of herself.
“So what? We like to party in the downstairs fun zone. It’s not a crime.”
“Except that one time?—”
“Okay, that wasn’t a crime,” she interrupts. “It was a misunderstanding. And the cop let me off.”
“You mean, the cop got you off.”
“He did that, too.” She flashes me a wicked smile before hopping to her feet. “Speaking of getting men off, let’s go get your lover boy from the bathroom. He’s been in there all day.”
“Oh shit! I forgot about him!”
