STARTED JAN 2023--
MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. Viewer Discretion is advised.
Priscilla Pearl Wolfe is a Pornstar.
Halen Elle used to be.
That is until the apathetically charming jackass with a back pocket full of guitar picks and skittles moves...
"Oh, the boy's a slag..." ♪ Fluorescent Adolescent • AM.
I WANT HIM, I WANT HIM NOT
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Halen smells like Frankincense and Tobacco, and he sounds like silk feels on my skin.
His words are rounded and warm, and he lifts roughly on the ends, giving an edge of rasp to his voice that makes me wonder if he smokes cigars or cigarettes.
But, regardless of his faltering clarity, he picks his words as carefully as he picks lint off of his suit.
He walks up the porch steps with his left hand curled behind his back, and he clutches his trunk in his right like it's full of secrets he wants to keep close.
He doesn't smile, but age has graced him with creases at the edges of his eyes and mouth; underneath the stubble that's lightly greying around his peach pink lips.
He has ear piercings, but no earrings and more noticeably, no ring. Across eight calloused, strangely veined knuckles instead, is the word 'paradise.' And all I could think about the entire elevator ride up to the second floor was what those hands would feel like laying spanks across my ass.
I promised myself I wouldn't be this kind of woman. The kind who slips on her own drool like a Mario Kart banana and fucks a man inside her head before they've had even a cup of coffee or even a real conversation, but...
I want him.
"Everyone, give a big welcome to Halen. The newest member of the Romantix Family."
And Daisy takes the words right outta my mouth.
"Oh, lord have mercy."
Her eyes twinkle and twirl over his figure like stars and I can't tell if she licks her lips to stop the drool, or to prepare herself for the imaginary feast of his body she's having in her head, much like me, "He is prettier than a glob of butter meltin' on a stack of pancakes. I dunno' about y'all, but he can fuck me into Sunday, hello—"
"Daisy Mae." Fox says scoldingly.
"No worries." Halen assures him with a simple glance. He plants his eyes back on Daisy, standing at the front of the common room like a perfectly sculpted Victorian, porcelain statue. "I'm more than happy to fuck you. I'm sure I'll be making my rounds through everyone in the house soon."
He says it with such a straight face I think he's joking.
Silence falls upon the room and I'm not often speechless, but I'm afraid if I talk all that'll come out is, 'oh god, me first.'
Blue, eating bon-bons on the couch, laughs.
I take the alternative route and remain professional and calm, "Actually, I'm afraid that's not how we do things around here."
