Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
But what the hell am I doing? I’m not getting married to Kayla. I’m getting married to Victoria, for crying out loud! Yet, I can’t help but sneak another glance at the curvy girl. She’s like an angel, standing there in her pink gown. Her cheeks are flushed and her lashes flutter a bit. Then, her eyes sweep over to look at me, and she bites her lip, making that pout even pinker.
Holy shit, I’m going to lose it. I’m going to run out right now, and take the sweet girl with me. But then Victoria steps up to the altar and giggles like a maniac.
“I’m here!” she whispers. “Ready for the big day!”
I manage a wan smile in return.
“You look beautiful,” I say, but it’s Kayla’s eyes that I meet over Victoria’s head. It’s like I’m saying the words to the daughter, and not the mom. Kayla flushes a bit, standing as still as a doe.
Meanwhile, Victoria shimmies like a wriggling puppy and giggles again, but it’s all fake.
“Let’s get on with it!” she whispers. “Go!” she directs the officiant.
It’s not a great sign to have my soon-to-be-wife acting like a spoiled child, but that’s why I purchased a big house for us to live in. There are five bedrooms, and even more importantly, one of the bedroom suites is located downstairs, which means that I can live on a different floor from my new wife. There’s no way we’ll be sharing a room at all. We’re not attracted to one another like that.
Meanwhile, the officiant continues droning through the ceremony, and I force myself to pay attention. Or more accurately, I force myself to pretend I’m paying attention even as I watch my stepdaughter from the corner of my eye. Kayla is trembling ever so slightly like a flower in the wind, and I hold my breath. She’s gorgeous and I wouldn’t mind sharing a room with her.
Stop it, the voice in my head admonishes. You’re such a dirty asshole.
The truth is that I am thinking forbidden thoughts, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting what I want.
Suddenly, the minister gets to the part where we say our vows. Obediently, Victoria and I turn toward one another, and we clasp each other’s hands. But I’m looking over her shoulder at her daughter, and as I begin to recite the words, I pretend that I’m saying them to Kayla, and not Victoria.
“I, George Pappanapolis …”
“Do solemnly take you, Kayla Knight …”
“As my lawfully wedded wife …”
“To have and to hold …”
“Until death do us part …”
Then, the ceremony concludes and I lean forward to kiss the bride. But not before making eye contact with Kayla again, and my heart jumps. How is it possible that she’s so tempting and forbidden, standing not two feet away from me right now? How can I control myself when the woman I truly want is the daughter of the woman I just married?
I can’t believe that this is my life, and yet, I desperately want more of Kayla. To see her, to love her, and to touch her, even if she’s off-limits.
3
Kayla
Four years later.
I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m back from college and in my old room at home. It’s silent around the manor, and I pray that no one can hear me although my problem is urgent.
Let me rewind to the beginning to give a clearer picture of how I came into my current urgent situation. It’s been tough at school, so I came home late on a Friday night, and the house was still. No matter. I let myself in with my keys and looked around. The manor was as opulent as always. George bought it when he married Victoria, and we moved in a week after the wedding.
At first, it was a little strange to be living in such a sumptuous setting. The house was so big that sometimes my voice echoed when I spoke, bouncing off the marble floors and high ceilings. Not to mention the fact that we dumped all our old furniture. Our ratty couches and garage-sale décor just wasn’t going to fit in in a place as nice as this. As a result, George had an interior decorator come by and do the entire place up so that it seems more like a French palace than a mansion on the outskirts of the desert.
But living with George wasn’t the naughtiness that I envisioned. First of all, I barely saw him. He’s a very successful doctor who both treats patients and does research. As a result, he was always at his office or the lab, and never around.
Second, he moved into a bedroom on the first floor, whereas my mom and I live on the second floor. In a house this big, it’s significant because sometimes it feels like you have to walk fifteen minutes just to get to the other side of the building. Not to mention the stairs. Even though we’re only one level apart, the stairs are long, curvy, and seem to go on forever. That was another obstacle separating us.