Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Thanks for the ride,” he says, climbing from the car.
I go into the house, take my prepared meal from the fridge, set it to the side, and then heat the oven. Ryan’s already upstairs. It’s not too late, but I know he’s very drunk, hence the idea to take a crazed trip to Vegas. As the food warms up, my mind goes to earlier in the night, to Molly.
My base aches, and my tip gets hard when she enters my mind. My instincts tell me to find her, grab her, and massage her thick, wide hips. Glide my hands up her body to her breasts, massage them too, look into her eyes, and see that spark of lust, of excitement. Fuck. I’m getting rock-hard now.
Standing, I return to the kitchen, feeling like a teenager with all this testosterone flooding through me. Dammit, if she were here right now, I’d take her so hard. I’d lose control. I’d grab a bunch of her hair, hold her in place, and crush her lips with mine. I’d turn her around, bend her over the counter, pull down her jeans, and indulge in her round, big, beautiful ass. Maybe I’d spank her a couple of times and watch her curvy body shake for me.
My hand twitches toward my crotch. What the fuck am I doing? Am I going to jerk off here in the kitchen?
Squeezing the counter, I take a few slow breaths, just like in a fight when I need to remind myself to focus. This is life or death. Maybe that’s dramatic as hell, but it feels true. The only way I can truly live is to be with her. Otherwise, it will be a cold, dark, miserable death.
I want her so badly. My balls are hurting. I’ve never felt this before. It’s like destiny has punched me right in the face.
CHAPTER FIVE
Molly
“What are you doing up so late, hmm?” Mom says, smiling at me over video chat.
I’m lying in bed with the lamp on. I’ve replayed the conversation with Duke, imagining what I could’ve said differently and been braver and more confident. Heck, I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. I managed not to stumble over my words, at least.
Anyway, this is about revenge. He’s on that dating app. He’s probably with one of his matches right now. I’m just one in a long line. That depresses me so, so much.
“Did you call me just to stare into space, sweetness?” Mom says in her classic bantering tone.
She’s on the West Coast, where I’m from. Mom joked that I purposefully moved to the farthest possible point on the other side of the country for college, and maybe she’s right in a way.
“Sorry.” I cover my mouth as I yawn. “Just wanted to check in.”
“I’m kidding,” she smiles. People say we have the same eyes. I see it, though I think hers must be more beautiful. They make her look younger than her forty-nine years. “I’d happily watch you staring off into space for the entire call, believe me.”
I smile, though there’s a touch of sadness. There always is when I speak with Mom. I can’t blame her for what happened to Dad. I don’t, not anymore, but I wasted a lot of time being mad at her. A lot of useless years. “I broke up with Ryan today.”
“Thank God,” Mom says. “That’s excellent news. I’m really happy about that, Molly. I wish you’d done it sooner, but it’s over now. How did he take it?”
“Not well,” I reply, “and you’re right. I should’ve done it the first time he belittled me. He showed his true colors, but I was scared. He’s so cruel sometimes.”
“But he never…”
“No, no,” I say quickly. “He didn’t touch me… like that.”
Or in many other ways, but I don’t add that part. We held hands. We sometimes kissed, but it always felt cold, clinical, and distant. Whenever he tried to push it further, I always stopped him. His dad, on the other hand…
“You deserve somebody who appreciates you,” Mom says. “I know you’ve always found that side of life difficult.”
I almost shoot back, That makes two of us, but I know she’s coming from a kind place. My instinct to get snappy and defensive immediately is something I don’t like about myself. It’s something I’ve been trying to fix with Mom, especially after she cried and apologized about Dad.
“I met somebody tonight, actually,” I murmur.
“Oh, really?” Mom brightens up. “Do tell…”
I swallow. “Well, he was really funny. We got on so well. I didn’t feel awkward like I usually do, but he’s forty-two.”
Mom blinks and readjusts the camera. “Did you say forty-two?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I know. It’s a bit of an age gap.”
“A bit,” Mom repeats. “He’s twice your age. Exactly twice your age. If there were two of you and you added them together, that’s him.”