Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“I’ll be gentle,” I murmur, kissing her sweetly. “Nice and slow for you, Love.”
“I love you, Hugo,” she breathes. “I didn’t want to leave.”
I smile against her mouth. “Didn’t plan on letting you leave.”
We fuck until she’s crying out in pleasure. I release inside her, not as much cum as before since I’m getting older. The water starts to run cold, so I quickly shut it off and dry us off. Naked but dry, we crawl into my bed so I can hold her close. She stares at me, stroking my cheek.
I don’t know what I was thinking this morning, but it was truly fucked-up. I don’t want what happened to ever happen again. I just want this. Me and her. Alone.
Her lids start to droop. I kiss her forehead and allow myself to drift off as well.
I wake some time later, the late morning sun warming my flesh through the window, to the sound of my phone buzzing where it’s charging on my nightstand. Untangling myself from Aubrey, I roll over and grab it.
Jude: We need to talk. On my way.
If Jude’s coming to visit, it’s serious. We barely get him out of his house for family dinners. Fuck. This can’t be good.
Me: About what?
The three dots move.
Jude: It’s about Neena. You’re not going to like this.
Aubrey
I know they’re two different people, but strangely, their beds smell the same. It’s another added layer to why this thing between me, Hugo, and Spencer is so complicated and confusing.
Rolling over, I stretch to touch Hugo. The bed is cold and empty. My heart is full, though, and my body is deliciously sore.
I can’t believe I had sex with both of them at the same time. It all just sort of happened. With Hugo being the older, wiser father figure, I’d expected resistance. He didn’t resist. He was an active participant.
So wild.
Although he bailed pretty quickly after, it was fine. Something settled in my chest after we’d had sex. Completion. I finally felt complete.
Maybe the crap that happened with me and Spencer two years ago was meant to happen. We were just kids then. I could have had him had my mother not intervened, but then it would mean not having Hugo.
I can’t imagine being with Spencer only.
That feels incomplete.
I’m not ready to thank Mom or anything. In fact, when she finally resurfaces, I’m going to have a long discussion with her. How could she pit her stepson against her own daughter? What was her motive for making me out to be some villainous gold-digging toxic girl? I’m still upset that Spencer would actually believe her.
Those texts weren’t mine, which means Mom used my phone to create this false narrative to present to Spencer. But why?
Dad hates me and I deserve that for humiliating him.
Mom’s animosity toward me has always been confounding. I’ve never understood the distance between us or the walls she put around herself. All I wanted was for my mother to love me unconditionally. Truth is, I’d have preferred Tasha for a mother, or even Jamie next door. Too bad you can’t choose your parents.
Thoughts of my parents have me thinking back to Dad. Did he give Ben my address up here in Washington? Or was Ben resourceful in finding me? I’m not exactly hiding, so it wouldn’t be difficult for someone really trying. It’s still super creepy that he came all this way up here to profess his love to me.
Gross.
What did I ever see in him?
Nothing. Ben was a distraction. Something daring and rebellious to entangle myself in. A way to feel past the numbness that had grown like a fungus all over my entire being since the day I left Park Mountain. It seemed as if I was in a fog at the time, doing the bad things because I could, not caring who I hurt in the process. Now that I feel awake to my life, and the fog has lifted, I realize how lost I truly was.
I’m not a whore.
I’m just a broken girl looking for love in all the wrong places.
Deep voices can be heard rumbling from beyond Hugo’s closed door. If Hugo and Spencer are having some sort of discussion, I feel like I need to be a part of it. Sliding off the bed, I head straight to Hugo’s closet for something to wear.
Mom’s perfumed scent still lingers, though she hasn’t been here in close to a year. I force my gaze away from her rows of expensive, tailored clothing and endless amounts of shoes to Hugo’s side. Grabbing an old, white PMU T-shirt that’s probably been around since the late ’90s or early 2000s, I throw it on and then head out to find them.
I round the corner, locking eyes with Hugo, who’s sitting in an armchair, his elbows resting on his knees.