Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Is that really a bad habit though?”
Our playful exchange is welcomed.
Embraced fully.
“Not as bad as you trying to convince me to put banana peppers and pineapple on it.”
“They’re good!”
“They’re gross.”
Ry shoots his eyes up to show me a playful glare. “Don’t make me fuck the truth into you.”
His threat like the whole topic gets us both laughing again, which I know is needed.
I know him.
I know he’s not ready to talk about his father or Kara or looming support group just yet.
And that’s okay.
This is one of those times I can go the speed he needs.
Be there for him.
We may still be shuffling cards in and out of our deck, but I know we’re on the same side of the table.
More importantly, I know we’re in this game of life together.
Chapter 25
Ryder
- “And I’m so grateful to know that me doing that will always be enough for you, even when it’s not enough for me.” -
Getting there head right before the reading of your bastard father’s will is probably not the most responsible shit a person could do, but what the fuck do I care?
My woman wants to suck my cock to help ease my anxiety?
Who the fuck in their right mind would ever say no to that shit?
Hearing Noah lay on his horn again has my hit hitting the back of the door on grumbled, “Fuck, Pres, I’m so goddamn close.”
She disregards my brother’s impatience and continues gorging on my cock like we’re the only two people in existence. The tip of my dick begins to dip into her constricting throat causing choking sounds that make my balls clap. They slap her in the chin as I fuck her face as much as she fucks me with her throat. Spit streaks are slathered along the edges of her mouth and the seam of my pants, a sight that has me beastly yanking her down my dick until the suffocation I was feeling earlier over the day’s events earlier becomes hers.
I loudly bark out my breaking. “Fuck!”
Ropes of cum coat Pres’s vocal cords preventing her from doing anything other than swallowing.
And fuck me, does she swallow.
Rush on top of rush until my knees are knocking alongside my brother on her front door.
At that, she giggles, gives the tip of my sensitive shaft the tiniest peck, and helps slip me back in my pants. “Coming!”
“Not without me you’re not,” I naughtily tease at a lower tone while tucking my white t-shirt back into place.
She gives me a playful swat and makes sure her robe is tied tight. “Text me when you’re ready for me to meet you all for lunch. I’m technically not off today, but I’m super flexi. You know this.”
“I do know this.” My reassurance is followed by a loving kiss. “And I appreciate this.”
Fuck, I appreciate everything she’s been doing for me over the past eleven days.
I really didn’t think Kara’s death would shake me like it did.
I mean we were friends, but we had known each other for months not years.
Finding out that her sleeping pills were laced pissed me off almost as much as her falling off the wagon, yet when I learned she took a fucking handful instead of just a couple to take off the edge, I felt guilty.
Like a new level of blame I could hardly fathom.
Was I the one who gave her the bottle, popped that stop, and shoved that shit in her mouth?
No.
Did I feel slightly responsible for yelling at her and then ignoring her texts to deal with my own shit?
Yeah.
However, after talking to Law about the shit – with and without Pres around – it became clearer to me that Kara needed help. Help I couldn’t necessarily provide. She was continuously crying out for help between the body changes and body mutilations. I wasn’t ignoring any of that shit. I constantly acknowledge, did what I knew to do to get her stable again, but in the bigger picture of all that shit I was basically patching holes in a tire that needed to be replaced.
Her death wasn’t my fault.
I didn’t drive her to it despite what the demon voice deep inside of me says.
And while I thought only Kara’s death would get to me, my father’s began to as well.
I’m not entirely sure why.
I don’t miss the bastard.
I didn’t even fucking like him.
But I hate seeing the toll that losing the asshole has taken on Noah.
And hate even more that part of me feels perhaps he should’ve been given a chance at forgiveness, something if I fuck up with my own kids that I would want them to give me.
There have only been talks about him with Law and one with Pres.
They mainly listen.
I primarily fucking bitch about how awful he was.
Law calls it grieving.
Pres calls it purging.
Whatever the fuck it is has kept me working longer hours to stay distracted and fucking my woman so roughly that I’m pretty sure we broke the bed.