Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I used my other hand to give my balls a firm tug. Heat sizzled along my spine. I gasped as the force of my climax shook me. When I was drained dry, I slumped over so I was half lying on the couch. Somehow, I found the strength to lift my legs onto the cushions before I passed out.
I woke to the usual sounds of morning in the bayou. The shrill call of a woodpecker felt like it was drilling into my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached for the covers, intending to pull them over my head. That was when I realized I was on the couch.
What the hell?
It took several moments and a few failed attempts to sit up to remember how I’d gotten there.
Moving very slowly, I turned my head to see if the moonshine jar was completely empty. As I tried to roll over, my legs caught in my pants, which I must have removed as I slept, and I fell to the floor.
I lay there for several moments with my head pounding. I was filthy. I needed a shower, and despite the protests of my stomach, I knew I’d feel better with coffee and food in me.
I managed to get to my feet and shuck my remaining clothes.
The cold water in my outdoor shower helped wake me up. Once I was more aware of the world around me, I started thinking about Eric, not just thoughts of him there in the shower, on his knees, giving me the best blow job of my life, but thoughts of hanging out with him, of being friends, of connecting.
What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t need anyone in my life.
Are you so sure about that?
I had been until I’d met him.
Goddamn it. I didn’t want anything messing up my life. I didn’t want to need people, certainly not Eric. I didn’t even like him. He was a fucking insufferable do-gooder cop. But now, after spending time with Eric and Dax, instead of loving the life I’d made for myself in the bayou, I felt lonely. For the first time ever, I felt unsettled there in my sanctuary. It fucking sucked.
What the hell was it about Eric that made me interested in seeking out a relationship I never knew I wanted, one that would involve talking, and leaving the cabin, and feeling… something. I didn’t want to feel anything. It was easier when I didn’t.
Dax had pulled me out of my shell, so it was partly his fault too, but I would always be there for him. He was my brother. I could tolerate him and even the rest of the family for a short time, but I’d been away from home for days. I should be craving my solitude, not wishing I was with some blue-eyed fucking sheriff who made me crazy. Dax was going to love it if he ever found out. He was going to think I’d been holding out on him, but I hadn’t. I only felt this way about Eric. Goddamn him. Maybe this was punishment for what I’d done in the past.
I pushed back from the wall, grabbed the soap, and angrily rubbed it between my hands. I washed myself roughly like I could wash away the desire for Eric and all the needs I had for connection. I was a monster, and I was better off alone.
3
Eric
One Month Later
I watched through binoculars as men unloaded crates and put them into the shack LePlatt had used for storing drugs before the Theriots had put an end to him and his operation. If the rumors were true and Valentino Carlotti had taken over moving drugs through the state, shouldn’t a criminal of his standing have better sense than to use the same spot where his predecessor was killed?
Apparently, he didn’t, unless those crates were actually filled with oranges like they said. I wanted to get a look after the men were gone, but I knew if I was caught, Carlotti’s men wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. They’d likely torture me for information first, but one way or another, I’d be dead and unable to do anything to stop them.
The thought sent a chill through me, and I crouched farther down in my hiding spot, hoping the men moving the crates wouldn’t see the light glint off my binoculars. I’d dressed in camouflage, and the thick foliage help to conceal me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think I was invisible.
Not more than a week after the Theriots had slaughtered LePlatt and his accomplices, I started hearing rumors that there was a new dealer in town, one with a lot more product to move and a lot less patience with anyone who got in his way.
The Theriots had sold me on their plan by convincing me it was beneficial to the whole parish for them to remove LePlatt. They were right, but they hadn’t mentioned the likelihood someone worse would take over. If our parish hadn’t been on such a convenient path north, maybe the drop-off location would have remained abandoned, but now, if Carlotti was truly in charge, and despite the Theriots “help,” I was worse off than before.