Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Chapter Ten
Rex
I throw an arm over my eyes to block the morning light.
Christ, I feel fucking great. There’s my first clue that I’m not in my bunk out on the boat. My chest is light, my cock is hard…I’m actually glad it’s morning. There’s something to look forward to. A weight falls from the ceiling and lands on my gut.
No, not something. Someone.
Clara.
I jackknife in bed, my gaze falling to the empty spot beside me in the bed. Where is she? Where’s my little girl? I almost roar the question to the cabin in general, because I need a goddamn answer right now. She slept in my arms all night, her adorable tush tucked up against my junk. Man, she sleeps like the dead. When I carried her into my bedroom—instead of the guest room she claimed yesterday—she was already sawing ladylike logs, her head lolling against my shoulder.
The privilege of laying her down on my bed and cleaning the virgin blood off her inner thighs turned me into a possessive motherfucker. I knew she wasn’t in danger last night, but I still stayed awake until the wee hours, waiting to slaughter anyone who posed her danger. This is it. We opened the door last night and I can’t close it now.
She’s mine. She’s mine and she’s not in this bed. Therefore, I’m pissed. Rudy and Hank don’t have a death wish, so they won’t lay a finger on her. But I know too well how Clara likes to dress. And if I’m not there to make sure they keep their eyes to themselves, they’re going to see too much of what’s mine.
Not to mention, I’ve got a hard-on here that needs attention. I could visualize Clara riding me hell bent for leather—the way she did last night—and give myself a quick jerk job. I experienced the best last night, though, and I’ll never be satisfied with anything but my niece’s pussy until the day I die.
“Clara.” I throw my legs over the side of the bed and pull on my jeans. “Where you at, girl?”
Not getting an answer, I stomp from the room without bothering with a shirt. There’s no one in the living room, but I hear water running in the kitchen, so I head in that direction. When I walk inside, there’s no Clara, though. Only my two friends, who are back to looking like outraged church ladies. Not surprising, considering I fucked my niece in front of them last night. But hell, once she called me Daddy, there was no stopping. Not having claimed her virginity was driving me insane. Couldn’t even take the extra minutes of waiting to get her somewhere private. It had to be now, now, now.
I clear my throat. “Where is she?”
“Good morning to you, too,” Hank blusters.
Rudy pours a cup of coffee, taking his time adding sugar and milk. “She went for a walk.”
“A walk?” I bellow. “Alone? Where?”
“She’s only been gone about ten minutes,” Hank says, leaning back against the counter. “Let the girl enjoy some nature.”
“Hell, she’s already caught herself a bear,” Rudy drawls.
My asshole friends high five each other.
I snatch up the communal set of cabin keys. “Which direction did she head? If something happens to her, you’re both dead.”
“Said she wanted to see the lake.”
Lake? Jesus, she could drown. Or get bitten by something. Or trip over a tree branch and cut herself. Don’t these idiots know Clara has balance issues?
No, they don’t. And that’s the only thing that stops me from shutting their lights out. It would waste time, anyway, and I need to find my little girl. Still not bothering with a shirt—or shoes—I stomp from the cabin and head toward the lake. It’s not far, but during the five-minute walk, I picture every bad thing on the planet happening to her. She could be in pain and calling for me—
What I see instead when I reach the lake turns my vision dark, bloody red.
Clara is knee deep in the lake, wearing nothing but a yellow bikini. A tiny scrap of one that’s already gotten wet, clinging to her pussy and tits like a second skin.
Two young men in their early twenties wade in her direction, outfitted in fishing gear. I don’t know what the hell passes for handsome, but they sure as shit ain’t as ugly as me.
“Hey there. You lost?”
“No,” Clara says, backing away. “I’m staying with my uncle and his friends. They’re on the way here to meet me.”
“That so? Well, we’ve got our own cabin over yonder. It’s real nice,” says one of the boys, taking off his hat and letting it smack against his thigh. “Why don’t you come with us and hang out?”
“Can’t have enough friends, can you?” says the other, smiling a little too brightly, like a toothpaste commercial actor. “I’m sure your uncle won’t mind.”