Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I should know. Loss is one thing I have in common with her—the only thing, besides going to the same school and having a class together. It’s like walking around with a hole in your chest, but nothing can fill it. And nobody sees it, either. Sure, at first, they tell you it’s going to be all right. Whatever you need, they’ll provide it for you. Anytime, day or night. The same generic bullshit people spout off whenever there’s a tragedy.
But after a while—not even a long while—life goes on for them. They can’t watch over you all the time, always thinking about you and checking in. Eventually, their own lives take over again, and you’re left with that same unfillable hole. Only people expect you to function like you’re normal. Like you didn’t have this massive part of your life stripped away out of nowhere.
In her case, it was a bullet fired from a random car. In mine, it was the car itself that took my mom. One of those things. How many times did I hear that in the weeks and months after the crash? Just one of those things. You never know when it’s your time. All those empty platitudes.
But nobody would ever know from looking at her that she suffered such an extreme loss. Nobody would know by watching her on campus that she’s been humiliated and bullied, either. I guess that’s called dignity. She has more of it, really, than a lot of the people I know who come from rich families and have had everything handed to them forever. The people who take the most pleasure out of torturing her.
But that’s not my problem. I’m doing a job. And it’s not my fault her dad’s a deadbeat loser who can’t stop gambling. There are no personal feelings tied up in this. And I’m not going to stop just because we both lost somebody important to us. Shit, Dad would laugh himself sick and then smack the taste out of my mouth if I refused to keep going with this all because the girl knows how to keep her chin up.
Pushing back from my desk, I fold my hands behind my neck and blow out a sigh. I can’t think about her this way. I shouldn’t think about her at all unless I’m coming up with more ways to fuck with her until her dad gives my dad what he wants. I kind of wish I could think of a reason to hate her as a person. I only know she’s different, an outsider, and I’m doing what I have to do. It needs to be enough.
I’m uneasy, unsettled inside. Forget trying to get any homework done, not like that’s ever a priority. Funny how I was glad that Dad expects me to put all my time into taking care of Tamson, which means I’m not spending all my extra hours at the bar or one of his other businesses, keeping things in line. Now, I kind of wish I had the excuse to go somewhere and beat the shit out of somebody so I could get rid of this energy that has me bouncing my knee up and down and grinding my teeth.
A hot shower is a last resort kind of thing. Stripping down on my way to the bathroom, I turn on the tap and step into the shower stall once steam starts to rise. Maybe I can scald myself into relaxation.
What I can’t seem to do is scald myself out of remembering the way Tamson chewed her lip this morning. What is it about such a simple gesture that completely took ownership of my brain? I haven’t been able to get it out of my head all day. Now, as I soap myself up under the hot spray, I can’t help but imagine chewing on her lip until she moans.
My eyes drift shut as my dick twitches in response to the images in my head. I don’t need to be thinking of her like this, but my dick didn’t get the message. It’s rigid by the time my hand closes around it.
Only it isn’t my hand, at least not in my imagination. It’s hers. Stroking me slowly, building the tension, torturing me by promising so much but delivering only a little. Making my heart beat faster every time she teases the sensitive spot under my head and sends ripples of pleasure straight to my aching balls.
Those baby blue eyes of hers. I see them staring up at me as she fucks me with her fist. Faster. Tighter. It feels so fucking good. How can something I’ve done so many times feel so fucking good now, almost like the first time?
I have to lean against the wall when my knees start to buckle. My fist moves in a blur. The splashing sound echoes in the stall with my breathing, louder, faster.