Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I’m still unsure what my next move is, so I don’t get up and leave. I guess I could hitchhike into Bishop and try and catch a ride back to Charleston on the tour bus. I’m definitely not gonna try that in Disciple. The last thing I need is someone from there to recognize me.
Actually, it would be even worse if they didn’t. And I suspect that’s what I’m really afraid of. That I’d walk into Disciple, West Virginia, and not a single person would know my face.
Bishop isn’t a great plan either, but at least I won’t have to look at grown-up versions of my childhood friends when I walk right past them and they don’t even look twice.
The front door opens and closes and I stiffen, readying myself for my next fight with Collin. I turn my head towards the open bedroom door as heavy footsteps make their way down the hallway. He stops just short of my door, staying out of sight. But he’s casting a light shadow on the hardwood floor, so I know he’s there.
“You might as well just come in,” I say. “Obviously you’re here for me.”
To my surprise, it’s not Collin who takes those final few steps and looms in the doorway.
It’s Shep.
“What do you want?” I sneer.
“Collin wanted me to come talk to you.”
“Why would he want that?”
“Because… this is between us, right? You like me. You came here for me. Well,”—he throws up his hands—“here I am.”
I turn my head away and look at the window. This one has curtains, not shutters, so I can see outside. It’s just trees, though. Since this house kinda bumps up against the woods.
“Can I sit?” Shep asks.
I don’t answer or look at him, just shrug. So he sits, making the mattress dip on his side, which in turn forces me to scoot over and adjust my position. So now I do look at him. “Look,” I say. “Sorry I came here and ruined things for you. I’m leaving, so it’s over now.”
“Can I ask you something?” is all he says back to that.
“I guess.”
“What was goin’ on back there in the kennel? And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I got rough with you and then I put my hand on your throat and you…”
I shoot him a contemptuous look, waiting for his word choice.
“You… like it.”
“So?”
“Olive, I… don’t even know where to start this conversation, and…” But he stops. And I watch him carefully here, almost able to see the calculating moves happening inside his head in real time.
“And what?” I prod. Because while I can see that he’s reevaluating things, I have no idea what options he’s weighing. And I’m kind of dying to know.
But instead of answering me, he moves closer. Repositioning his body. And then he’s slowly raising his hand. His palm is flat and facing me, but as it comes up to my neck, it curves into a loose fist.
He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna put his hand—
And then it’s there. Pressing against my throat. Without hesitation, my eyes close and a moan comes out of my mouth.
The next thing I know, he’s kissing me. And it’s just like it was before. Ravenous and filled with an almost uncontrollable lust.
I don’t kiss him back this time. No. This time I start whispering, “Do it. Do it, please. Just a little bit, OK? I can take it. Just a little tighter. Please.”
When he grants my request and his fingers tighten around my throat, I nearly come apart. The moans coming out of my mouth are low and erotic. If I was able to articulate coherent thoughts in this moment, I’d have the good sense to be embarrassed.
But I’m not embarrassed. In fact, I’m rather bold. Because I twist on the bed, facing him. And then I press my hand up against his just to make sure it doesn’t slip out of position and I climb into his lap.
“Wait,” he says.
But fuck that. No. I’m not waiting. So I hush those words with my mouth on his, while at the same time I reach down and press the heel of my palm into his rock-hard cock. Even through his jeans I can tell it’s long and thick and I want it. So I slip my fingertips back where they were before Amon interrupted us and pop the button of his pants. Then I drag the zipper down, shove my hand inside, and grab his cock with a greedy fist.
His reciprocal moan is a signal that this will happen. And the next thing I know, he’s pressing that hand against my neck with more force.
“Yes,” I say, allowing myself to fully enjoy the feeling. “Yes. More.” But he doesn’t increase the pressure, and this frustrates me, so I ask again. “More. Just a little bit.” This asking becomes begging almost immediately. But he’s hesitating. Any more pressure and he’ll cut off the blood flow to my brain.