Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I watch as she stirs the flexible noodles into the sauce, then adds some olive oil and parmesan cheese. “What’s wrong with the normal way?”
“Plain pasta noodles with sauce slapped on top?” Riley offers back, and I nod. “This way is better,” she declares, sounding as confident as any top Italian chef, and I believe her implicitly, but then she smirks as she leans toward me to reveal, “Before you ask, I learned it from cable cooking shows.”
I can’t help but chuckle because I totally trusted that her culinary experience cooking for kids had led to her creating the best spaghetti in existence. In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised me at all because I’m almost unsurprised by all her revelations at this point.
Together, we finish plating the pasta and pour two glasses of red wine and sit at the island. We automatically take our usual seats, which leaves one between us where Grace typically sits. Even empty, the buffer is appreciated.
“What are you doing tonight?” I hear myself ask as we start eating. Damn, she’s right, the pasta’s a lot better this way. But I wish I hadn’t said anything because whatever she answers is only going to be fodder for my fantasies when I’m locked away in my office.
Washing her hair? I could run my hands through it, cupping her face as I feed her my dick.
Laundry? Strip down and let me memorize the parts of your body I haven’t seen.
Watching a movie? Laying her out on the couch comes to mind again. I could eat her out while she watches some pointless rom-com.
Packaging her thrifted items for tomorrow’s trip to the post office? Okay, all I’m getting there are some freaky ideas about things to do with packing tape.
But the point stands. I don’t need anything that’ll get me more riled up than I already am.
“I need to paint my nails,” she answers, distracted as she looks at the pink polish.
An image of her hand, complete with chipped pink polish and a ridiculous number of bracelets, wrapped around my dick, stroking me fast and tight, pops to mind. I shift on the stool, trying to will my dick not to respond. It laughs at me, growing harder, and finally, I have to lay my napkin in my lap in an attempt to hide the damn traitorous appendage. I’d threaten to punish it later, but I think that’s exactly what it's hoping for.
“Sounds fun. What color are you thinking?” I could smack myself on the forehead for asking such a stupid, banal question, but it’s all I could come up with no blood flow in my brain. Hoping for some carb-spiration, I shove a too-big forkful of spaghetti into my mouth.
“Pink or black. Those are the only two I have, so I usually rotate between them.” She shrugs like she hasn’t decided yet as she takes a bite of her dinner. “Maybe both?”
I don’t know a lot about women, but only having two polishes sounds… odd? Mom always had a whole drawerful of them, and growing up, Kayla used them all. Michelle had at least a dozen, and I think Grace has at least that many too. But Riley isn’t the least bit concerned about what some would consider a lack. She’s happy with so little.
It makes me feel a little ashamed because I know I’m giving her so little too. A little taste of family, of home, of me. But that’s all I have to give.
Except…
“Mom takes all the girls—Grace, Janey, Kayla, Luna, Samantha, Dani—for manicures pretty regularly. I’m sure she’d love for you to go with them next time.” Mom makes it a point to be a good mom, grandmother, and mother-in-law to all the women in our family and routinely spends time with each woman individually and in groups, finding and creating those deep family attachments.
Riley’s eyes jump to mine, and I can see the eagerness there, along with the surprise at being included and the yearning for that sort of connection. But almost as quickly, shutters slam down and though she smiles politely, she declines. “That’s okay. It sounds like a family thing.”
I make the instant decision to tell Mom to arrange an outing and put the whole damn spa day on my credit card. It’d be a small price to pay to make Riley smile and feel the Harringtons’ special brand of fucked-up affection. Although it’s risky because it might be enough to send her running for the hills. Especially Kayla and Mom together. Though Samantha and Dani aren’t much better, with crazy shit coming out of their mouths, sometimes loudly and at the same time. Luna and Janey are sweet, though. I know Riley and Janey get along, so I’m pretty sure she’d like Luna too.
“I’ll talk to Mom,” I declare, and Riley presses her lips together, fighting to hide a smile, but I can see it dancing in her eyes. “How was Janey today?”