Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
I try to replace those bad images with the good memories that I’ve kept, ones that I’ve tended carefully and revive again and again even though I know they’re bad for me. The ones where we were young and dumb but so, so eager. He would do anything with me. He loved my body. He brought it to life.
I rub myself slowly at first, remembering the feel of his rough fingers, the inexperienced but eager exploration. We were each other’s firsts in every way. He learned everything I liked. How the friction against my sex needed to be hard and fast, and that he could make me come just by rubbing me, even through my clothes. He took advantage of that, by getting me off in theaters and at restaurants.
Once he even did while he was driving. We were going to the shore, over three hours away. I’d gotten bored and horny from watching him drive. There had always been this innate sexiness about him. He handled himself with such confidence, even back then when we were teens, that I didn’t have much control when I was alone with him. That time, I slipped off my panties and braced my heels against the dash and fingered myself. He swore and reached across the console and pushed my hand away. His long fingers replaced mine, and it wasn’t just one, but three that thrust inside me. I pinched my clit while he fucked me with his hand. Never did he take his eyes off the road despite my shuddering and crying in the seat next to him.
The moment we arrived at the shore, he was on me. He hauled me into the back seat, tearing at his jeans so hard that the metal button popped off. He slammed into me and came about two seconds later. Sweat dripping off his forehead, he pressed his nose against mine and said, “Never ever fucking do that again. It’s not safe, and I only have so much self-control.”
He hitched up his jeans, hauled me out of the car, and dragged me down to the beach. I hadn’t come, but he made me sit there and eat subs and chips while I was a mass of nerves and want.
He was right, though. It was unsafe, so I took my punishment silently or what I thought was silent. When the sun set and the shoreline grew dark, he drew me under him. “You suffering, baby girl?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t ashamed to admit to that. I pushed at his T-shirt, hungry for contact. My whole body was quivering.
“You were testing me today.” His hands slid under the elastic of my swimsuit bottom.
“The car ride was boring,” I whined.
“So you decided that you’d touch yourself and make me sit there when I couldn’t do anything.”
His hand hovered over my sex. Every time I raised my hips, he’d lift his hand higher. I couldn’t make any contact.
“West, please.”
“You put yourself in danger, baby. I can’t have that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please, please make me come.”
For a moment, he hesitated but he couldn’t hold out because he loved me so. He slid into me gently, but after the first few strokes he lost control. I loved it when that happened. His face would grow taut and his grip hard. I never felt so secure and loved than when he was thrusting inside of me, chanting my name between promises to love me forever.
I move my hand faster and faster, imagining that it’s his fingers between my legs, his hand squeezing my breast. He loved me. Loved me so much that I left him. I come with bitter tears on my lips. I have no right to reach out to him, no right to call him, no right to ask him for help.
I wash my hands and face, pull the nightgown over my head, and take my sleeping pill.
Chapter Two
WEST
The light goes off on the third floor. I find that my hand is on the door latch of my car, and I have to intentionally peel it off. That’s not my house and not my woman. I have no right to her.
Yet.
Vasey Hamlin has been watching over that slip of a girl for five years now, and I’d be some kind of monster to separate the two. When Vasey and I were kids together in the foster system, bumping from one bad situation to another, the thing she missed the most was having a momma. She’d cling to those mother figures even when they slapped her, used her up, and kicked her out. She was always finding excuses for them. Having five kids in the house is hard. Teens are moody. I think I’m a lot to handle.
She never was. She was just a kid looking for a place in the world to call her own. I was going to provide that for her, but I made the wrong decision. I left for the military, and when I got back, she was all tied up. I waited for her to untangle herself. I thought this nanny position would be temporary, that she’d move on and I’d present her The Academy on a silver platter, and that would be it.