Smoke seemed to prefer staying at my house over returning to the palace. Most mornings, I'd wake to sweet kisses and those lustful, puppy-like eyes. Day by day, his touches grew bolder—needless to say, it got harder and harder to get out of bed.
At night, we hung out with his friends—going to restaurants, the beach, the movies, or just someone's house. They always had stories to share: mutual friends, inside jokes, shows they'd all seen. I never had anything to add. Sometimes I wondered why he was even with me… but then he'd look at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
🥀 A Vulnerable Confession
One evening, after we got home from seeing his friends, he hugged me from behind and started planting kisses down my neck as soon as we stepped inside.
"Wait—" I murmured, but he didn't stop. He bent me over the arm of the couch, lifting my skirt as he moved behind me.
"Smoke—wait, please…"
That made him freeze. He pulled back.
