Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
The romance of it takes my breath for a second. God, am I that girl who gets all tingly and special feeling by making a man murderous with jealousy?
Until now, I wouldn’t know, but yeah, I nod to myself, I’m totally that girl.
The reasons for being in the car with Phil are totally innocent, but I get the feeling that doesn’t matter to my monster-mountain-man. Disapproval radiates from Rutger like a dangerous haze.
Possessiveness hardens his jaw.
I’m his. And he’s come to claim me.
“Are you okay?” Rutger barrels down the hill at an impossibly fast run for a man his size, ignoring Phil and keeping his eyes keened on me.
Phil jumps sideways as Rutger passes, but he quickly turns back to his baby. “M-my car,” he stutters. “It’s ruined! I was trying to be so careful. And now look at this.”
“Go back to camp. There’s a tow truck number in the office,” Rutger tells him. “Call them.” He looks me up and down, claiming me with a hard stare. “I’ll take Tess into town.”
Chapter 4
Rutger
Iget Tess into my pickup, and I think about keeping her there.
Forever.
It’s been too long already, and I’ve been watching her the entire time. Last night, I spent the entire night at her window, peering into the darkness, making sure she was safe and happy, but it wasn’t enough. I almost broke her door down and claimed her right there and then, but talked myself out of it.
Don’t scare her away, I told myself, even though I knew if she ever tried to run, I’d chase her down and bring her back. And if she wouldn’t stay, I’d make her.
I’ve got chains.
I like the sight of her bouncing around in my passenger seat. The suspension’s shot. It’s not an easy ride. Her tits bounce and her butt comes off the seat. Every time she lands, it’s a little closer to me, so I start aiming for the potholes in the road.
I like her closer to me. I like her tits moving around. It’s better than any cartoon I’ve ever watched.
In an enclosed space like this, I can smell her hair and that flowery, fruity scent she gives off. My mouth waters. My cock gets longer and harder. It’s hurting to be closer to her again, but it’s a good kind of hurt. The kind that makes me forget to keep my eyes on the road.
“I really appreciate the ride,” she says, her colorful fingernails glinting in the sun as she holds on to the dashboard as I hit a deep hole toward the side of the road, jerking the steering wheel to the left to see what that does to her tits.
It does fun things. They bounce and sway, and I almost burst in my pants again. I want to play with them for the rest of my life.
I grunt in acknowledgment, darting my eyes from the road to her lips. I keep flexing my hands over the steering wheel, rolling my fingers, tensing my knuckles. I want to grab her thighs and take her for a real ride on top of my cock.
“I didn’t really want to go into town,” she explains. “But it’s my kitten. Frida Kahlo. I don’t have any proper kitty food for her, and I worry she’ll get sick.”
Her whole face lights up when she talks about her cat. I know what love looks like, seeing that, but I want to see it when she talks about me.
But I’m not cute. Or fluffy. And I don’t understand women. Not at all.
I’m reminded of why I stayed away for two days, wondering if she was just playing with me like others do. If what happened outside her cabin was some kind of joke. I watched her every minute since that I wasn’t sleeping, I just didn’t let her see. Conflict pulls at my insides, not knowing anything about these feelings she gives me or if she feels anything the same.
When I don’t answer, she gives me a confused look. “You saw my kitten when we met, do you remember?”
Again, I grunt. The memory of that little bundle of fluff with its claws out is still fresh in my mind.
Truth is, I’m scared of cats. I’ve kept away from them since I was a kid and didn’t know how to pet them. The last one I tried to touch, I got scratched. Never tried again.
I won’t tell that to Tess.
“So Phil was just taking me to the grocery store to get kitten food.”
This time, what comes out of me is a growl. Not a grunt. I don’t like her saying his name or reminding me that he was taking her anywhere. I’m the only one that gets to have my name on her lips and her ass in my car.
I’m viciously angry—at Phil, at myself. At her for going along with it instead of coming to me.