Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I tried to tell myself it was just because of how long it had been since I’d been with a woman.
I didn’t even know how long. Six months? No, longer. I definitely hadn’t been with anyone since my sister died. So it was sometime before that.
I remembered who it had been.
A divorced mom at Charlotte’s school pickup who’d been eye-fucking me well before that ring came off her finger. And the only reason I’d agreed to meet up with her was because that was the week I’d been making funeral plans for my mother, and my stress and grief made me desperate for something that felt good.
It’d been kind of detached on both our sides, and neither felt the need for a repeat.
Still, it would have made more sense for me to fantasize about her, since I had actual memories to pull up.
But, no.
It was the hazel-eyed firecracker that I was desperate to bend over her pawnshop counter and fuck from behind until she was hoarse from moaning and my orgasm was strong enough to make my legs go weak.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled, reaching down and closing my hand around my length, a hiss escaping me at the sensation.
I’d been fighting this exact urge, not wanting to reinforce the idea that I could have thoughts like that about her. A woman who was very much off-limits to me.
But I wasn’t going to be able to think straight if I didn’t get some relief.
So I imagined her in that makeshift kitchen in those ridiculous polka dot panties and a white tee that got more and more see-through as her wet hair dripped on it.
But in the fantasy, instead of keeping my hands to myself, I reached for her, grabbed her, pulled her back against my chest, then reached around to palm her through her shirt, teasing, rolling, and twisting her nipples until her ass was rocking back against my erection and she was begging for me to fuck her.
I came so hard my vision went spotty for a second.
Even after that, I couldn’t seem to get her off my damn mind as I finished my shower, toweled off, and changed into a fresh suit.
It was another family dinner night.
Charlotte was excited.
Liam was… Liam.
And I was racked with guilt for having sexual thoughts about Ezmeray’s little sister when I was about to sit across the table from her and eat her food.
Oh, well.
I had to suck it up.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Charlotte asked her brother when he walked out of his room in a wrinkled Midwest emo band tee from the ‘90s and a pair of ripped jeans.
She took the words right out of my mouth.
I was glad not to have to be the bad guy all the time with the kid.
“Shouldn’t have to get dressed up for family.”
He wasn’t wrong there. Back in their hometown, no one got dressed if I was coming over for dinner. If I showed up on a weekend, there was a good chance that all three of them would be in their pajamas at three in the afternoon.
It never bothered me.
And it wouldn’t bother me if this was the second or third time we were going to dinner. I just wanted them to look like they gave a shit the first time they met all these people.
Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“It’s about good first impressions,” she insisted.
She’d hemmed and hawed over her outfit for over an hour when she came home from school, bringing out outfit after outfit to ask me what I thought.
She settled on a simple navy blue t-shirt dress and a pair of sandals. And a purse that was big enough for her to ram not only a book but her tablet.
Liam looked at me, daring me to give him shit. But I didn’t have time for an argument with him about it.
“If that’s how you want to present yourself, then that’s fine,” I said with a shrug.
He wanted to get a rise out of me.
And he was pissed that I turned it back on him.
With a tight jaw, he turned back into his room.
He came back out not two minutes later with a black button-up shirt on over his t-shirt.
It wasn’t much, but it was a slight improvement.
With that, we headed out.
Liam charged ahead of us, already comfortable with the crowds, with the people, with the unique, hectic atmosphere of the city. He didn’t even flinch when two guys started yelling and shoving at each other just in front of the turnstiles.
Charlotte, still adjusting to public transit and so many strange faces all at once, stayed glued to my side as we waited for the train.
Then I watched as Liam went in ahead of us and glared at one guy until he got up from his seat.
“Char, sit,” he called, waving to the seat, then standing guard right in front of her, his arm raised to grab the bar.