Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Later, after the blood was cleaned up from the floor of Marjory’s, I chalked it up to adrenaline and my surroundings. All that soft stuff, all that lace, all those high heels. It wasn’t anything that I was familiar with. That’s why I felt those stirrings low in my gut. The same ones that are settling in now, making my balls tighten and my cock grow heavy.
I duck inside the shower, crank on the cold and try to freeze out those feelings. I didn’t save her all those years ago to put her life in danger now. She deserves to live a normal life—one where she’s not watching people get their necks sliced open or looking over her shoulder for someone to act out some dark revenge or coming home to someone who has to spend an hour in the shower scouring the blood off his hands. I scrub those hands across my face.
Bitsy deserves the world and I’m determined to give it to her.
Does her world include a man? Or do you plan for her to die alone?
I drop my forehead to the tile wall. These thoughts are gonna kill me. I shut off the water. The freezing temps aren’t doing anything for me. I could be in Antarctica and my dick would still be hard if Bitsy was around. I do a half-ass job of toweling off.
My feet carry me past my bedroom to the end of the hall and stop in front of Bitsy’s door. If I wasn’t so tired or so lonely, I would’ve been able to force myself back fifteen feet and into my own room. But I can’t stop myself from sinking to the floor.
Knowing she’s a breath away is killing me…and bringing me to life. The last four years I’ve been dead inside. I’ve eaten, slept, killed, come home to an empty apartment and lain in my bed until the sun came up. I take a deep breath and instead of stale air, strawberry and soap and floral perfume fill my lungs. The taint of the night drains away. The water, no matter how hot, can’t do that for me.
Bare assed, I sink to the floor. From here, I can see a tiny sliver of gold from the light under the microwave in the kitchen. I close my eyes and see her in front of me. She arches her back and her hard, erect nipples press against the thin fabric of her T-shirt. Her eyes are full of challenge and invitation. Take me if you dare.
Her tits are small but juicy. Big enough to fill a man’s palm—my palm. She probably has dusky nipples, darker than her golden skin.
My cock turns rock hard.
Yeah. There’s only one female that turns me on and it’s the one I can’t have. Not just because she’s young, but because I raised her. I took her in. I cared for her when she was sick. I held her tiny hand while we watched cartoons and ate cereal out of the box. I bought bunny slippers for her and tied her shoes for her and fuck. It is wrong. This lust I have toward Bitsy is just so fucking wrong.
I order my legs to move, but my ass is glued to the floor. I’ve tried to erase the desire, ice out the heat, shut down my heart. It was easier when she was gone, but now that she’s here, telling me that she wants me, it’s too hard to shove these wicked feelings into a concrete box in the back of my head.
Maybe if I…if I just this once…I reach between my legs. My shaft is thick and hot. I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall. I force the image of the two brunettes up. They had big boobs and long, slender legs. Their waists nipped in, emphasizing two bubble butts. One was shorter than the other, her breasts tucking under the ones of the taller girl. They played a game where the short girl was rough with the taller one. She’d grabbed the girl’s hair in her hand and yanked her head back so hard I thought I heard a bone crack. Snow choked on his tongue and soiled his pants at that scene.
It left me cold.
I pump my hand along my shaft and the two girls disappear, replaced by a dressing room.
Take off all your clothes.
All of them?
Yes.
The image shifts again and now she’s in the kitchen, lowering herself onto the table. Her shirt rides up, revealing a thin patch of skin. Her fingernails scrape along the edge of the hem. The lace of her panties peeks above her tight black leggings.
My throat is thick. Lust lies heavy on my tongue, like a thick cream. I shift on the floor, but I can’t get comfortable. The floor’s too hard. Her wiry, curled hair rings her face. A nervous hand comes to rest between two small, juicy tits.