Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
“Here.”
I hear Haven from beside me, but I don’t take my eyes off the only girl I want to watch until the end of time. Not until she straightens up, gives me a peek of her heaving tits in that pretty dress, and looks away. What the fuck was she talking about when she called her tits small? They’re perfect. Perfect little handfuls. Perfect little mouthfuls, too, if I put a little effort into it. Not that I’m going to, but still. Breathing through my nose to calm down my raging hard-on, I turn to Haven. She gives me a look like she knows what I’m thinking. But I highly doubt it. My thoughts about the Turner Princess would scare her and she’d never look at me the same. In any case, I ignore her look and glance down between us. She’s holding a little pouch in her hand, offering it to me. Instead of taking it, I look back up at her.
Sighing and rolling her eyes at me, she goes ahead and, grabbing my hand, puts it in my palm herself. Then she smiles at me all sweetlike and I grunt.
Her smile widens. “Aren’t you going to ask me what this is?”
I curl my fingers around the tiny sack. “Reckon you’ll tell me anyhow.”
She rolls her eyes again. “It’s yarrow.”
I frown in response.
“For your headaches, Rad,” she explains.
My gut tightens and my fingers flex around the pouch.
“Last time, I gave you the prairie coneflower, but you said it didn’t work. So try this. I saw it in my grandma’s journal. She said to steam at least five leaves in hot water for instant relief.”
I clench my jaw as I feel her watching me. “Don’t need it.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Why not?”
“’Cause I’m cured.”
“Oh, really?” Haven widens her eyes. “So your headaches that you’ve had on and off for over fifteen years, that don’t let you sleep most nights and for which I’ve been trying to find a perfect remedy for the longest time, are just gone?” She gasps in mock surprise. “That’s a miracle, Rad. Please share your secret with us.”
This time, I go for Haven’s hand and put the little bag in her palm. “It’s called shut your mouth and let me live in peace. How about we try that this time, yeah?”
She exhales sharply. “Take it.”
“No.”
“Why don’t you ever listen to me, Rad?”
“I listen,” I say. “Just don’t really do as you say.”
She stomps her foot. “You’re worse than Arsen.”
I grunt again, ready to leave.
“Okay, at least let me take a look at your side,” she says, concern etched in her features. “I know you said one of the fillies kicked you in the ribs, but you’re really walking funny and favoring your left side.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Peyton sitting up even straighter at this. Her fists clench and her breathing changes. Gets faster, anxious. I bet if I looked at her, I’d find those perfect tits of hers jiggling too. Fuck, why can’t I stop thinking about her tits? I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve got a long list of things on her body I want to suck on. And her tits are in the top two. A very close second to her princess pussy. And like the bastard I am, I choose this moment to think about—for the millionth time since it happened—how she was in my arms that night, writhing and moaning. How good her cunt smelled and how she drenched me.
Clenching my jaw, I try to focus. But not before I take another whiff of the air, trying to hunt down the scent of her pussy under the smell of cupcakes and her flowery lotion.
“Again, I’m fine,” I tell Haven.
But Haven is determined. “But can I please take a look at it? Maybe you broke something.”
And Peyton’s breathing quickens. I know she’s concerned. She was concerned two days ago when she stabbed me, or rather when I made her stick the knife in my ribs. While I’ve not seen her in person or had any contact with her since then, I know she’s still worried. She’s sweet like that. Sweet and innocent, worried about the man who’s going to destroy her life. It only makes me want to keep her more. Possess her, rope her like she really is the reward I’m owed, and not the cargo I need to deliver.
“Didn’t break nothin’,” I tell Haven and her.
It did need a few stitches, though, that were easy enough to do on my own. But as I figured, it’s just a regular wound. Hurts like a fucking bitch, but then again, that was the plan all along. To hurt. For everything that I’ve done to her and for everything I’m going to do. Regret is new for me, and she’s the only one who’s ever been able to pull it out of me. I can’t let it stop me, but I can’t deny, it’s a big fucking thorn in my side. Just like this wound.