Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
She bites her lip as the pause lengthens, causing my balls to swell, and my seed to surge into my base as if getting me ready. My body knows the right path to take here. It’s howling at me in a primal urgency to claim my curvy young woman before anybody else has the chance.
“Are you going to set up your practice again?” she asks, a shiver in her voice.
It’s like she feels obligated to make small talk.
She’d think I was the creepiest freak ever if she knew how badly I wanted her, every single part—her emotions, her body, her lust, her kindness, and…
Her everything.
It’s mine.
All of her.
“Nothing is permanent,” I tell her gruffly, aware I’m probably being rude but knowing it’s better than the alternative. “How’s the podcast going?”
I’ve purposefully avoided listening to any episodes, throwing myself into workouts and my job, taking on as much extra work as I can get, hoping to obliterate my thoughts from dawn to dusk, so they don’t stray to Harper.
“Pretty good,” she murmurs. “We’re up to one thousand consecutive listeners. Of course, I’m waiting tables, too.”
There’s another pause, people walking around us, and it’s easy to imagine it’s just her and me…
Easy to imagine I can reach forward and sink my hands into her hips, feel her juicy fullness, the curves which are making my balls pulse right this second.
I’d drive my manhood against her belly.
Feel how hard you make me. Feel how badly I want you.
Then I’d tear her shirt off and slip my precome-slick manhood between her breasts.
We’re at a funeral, and these thoughts won’t stop swirling around my mind. There’s something wrong with me.
“Got to make a living,” I say lamely, and then spot Adam over Harper’s shoulder.
He reminds me of when we were kids, that tight set to his lips. As he puts it, he’s normal-person height… and I’m scary-person height. We used to laugh like crazy about that.
His eyes are red, his hand moving through his brown hair as we stare at each other.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I tell Harper, and then leave without waiting for a response.
“You good?” Adam asks me, his voice tight.
“Yeah.”
“You forgot my beer.”
He’s right. That was my whole reason for going there, but then Harper distracted me just by being herself.
“I’ll get it.”
“It’s fine,” he cuts in. “I’ve got it.”
The rest of the wake is torture. I do everything I can to not look at Harper.
She sits with her legs crossed, highlighting her thighs clad in black tights, their shape beckoning to me, making me imagine my hands sinking into her voluptuousness.
There’s so much of her to indulge in. I want to kiss, softly bite, and please her as she whimpers and begs for more, and not just more carnal attention. More closeness, more dates, more protection, more kisses, more affection.
More talking about a future that can never happen, the pitter-patter of footsteps and children’s laughter, and all the stuff I never knew I wanted, but need with her.
The wake is winding down.
I think maybe I’ve gotten away with it and somehow survived the closeness to Harper without caving into the desire to pick her up and carry her out over my shoulder.
Then Adam approaches me.
His eyes are still red, but they have a hard quality. It’s the way he looked when we were in our late teens. He’d already started his construction company with a small nest egg from his dad—an egg he’d build into a whole “hatch house” as the years wore on.
I was working for him when he dislocated his finger. He stared at me, then at his sideways finger.
“Bro, we need to get you to a ho…”
I was about to say hospital, but then he calmly grabbed it and bent it back into shape.
“I’m not missing this deadline. We’ve only got until the end of the day. Let’s get to work.”
He steps forward, looking up at me. “Mom and Dad have had a little too much to drink, and Harper’s still taking lessons for her license. Could you give them a ride? Of course, I would, but I promised Eva’s parents I’d stay with them.”
He’s staring firmly, toughly.
“You can count on me,” I tell him.
He nods once and then strides away.
The rift hasn’t completely healed, but that’s why I’m here—to support him, help him, to make him forget the cruel and stupid thing I did.
I approach Michelle, Kurtis, and Harper with a ball in my throat. It’s like the closer I get to Harper, the fiercer the desire becomes. It’s like I can scent her fertility in the air, as though the doctor in me can somehow tell this woman, my angel, can give me three or four or five babies.
In a different life. Not this one.
“I’d like to give you a ride, if you’ll let me,” I say.