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)
Her fingers trail down my cheek and brush my beard and the muscles in my legs turn to knots. My balls try to climb up inside me and the throbbing ache of my constant erection is making the world sort of hazy around the edges.
Somehow, I make it to the grocery store on the edge of town without ravaging her or driving us off a cliff.
Tess is blushing as I jump out of the truck and run around like a jackrabbit to her side to open the door like a gentleman should.
“I’ll take, like, five minutes.” She slides down from the seat on a smile that makes me think she’s not playing with me, that she even really likes me.
But I already know in my heart I love her.
I wish my grandmother was still here. I bet she’d know how you turn like into love, and she’d surely tell me how to do it.
“Five minutes,” I agree, my eyes darting up and down the street. There’s more danger in town than in the forest, and if any of it comes around, I want to be ready. But I wonder if I’ll be able to handle five minutes without her smell, her touch, her beautiful eyes.
I watch her ass as it sways and bounces into the grocery store, loving every little jiggle. I’m jealous of the bell ringing over the door when she goes inside. Jealous that anything gets to experience her presence on this planet.
I spend all five minutes staring at the clock in the park at the center of town, waiting for her to come back.
As soon as it ticks past five of the little dash marks, I come undone. I throw myself through the same door where she disappeared, and stalk into the store like a wild man, the bell jingling more like a warning than a welcome this time. There’s apples and broccoli in the bins by the door. I’m tall enough to see down aisles without moving around. But her scent is faint, like she’s far away, so I scan the store, all the way to the back past the chips and soda and cans of soup, and there she is.
In the part of the store where they have the medicine and make up.
Someone’s talking to her.
He sounds angry, and as he turns a little I recognize him as the store owner. I know him and he’s not nice. He always rolls his eyes when I come to the register to pay for my supplies and have to count out the money three times before I’m sure it all adds up to the amount he wants.
I think he would take more than I owe if he could. He’s got those eyes. The take advantage kind of eyes.
I take out a pyramid of canned beans as I bolt her way. I’m at her back, standing over both of them, glowering at the piece of shit, and Tess looks scared.
The owner’s got his arms crossed, his body blocking Tess from leaving the store.
“Back away,” I snarl, my knuckles letting out a pop-pop-pop as I clench and extend my fingers.
He looks terrified as I approach, my long steps meeting the tile floor with resounding thuds. I’m not counting my money this time asshole, I think as I watch his throat move as he swallows hard.
The distance his eyes travel to get up to my head makes him more panicky. But he thinks he’s a tough guy, and he squares up his shoulders. “I saw this girl put nail polish into her pocket. She’s a thief. I’m calling the police.”
“Back. Away.” I say again, resting my hands on her shoulders.
He swallows again as I lean forward over Tess, locking my eyes with his.
My nostrils flare as he finally stumbles back.
Good.
“I could have her arrested,” he snaps, his voice cracking as I take a long inhale over Tess’s hair.
My cock jerks in my pants, nudging against the middle of Tess’s back, but she doesn’t move.
“How would you call the cops with two broken hands?” I ask, and his eyes widen.
“You can’t threaten me, I know who you are—”
I don’t let him finish, retrieving the little shopping basket that she’s holding filled with cans of kitten food. “What’s this worth? Twenty? Forty?” I’ve got cash. Money’s not a problem. I reach into my pocket and throw a handful of twenties at him, and I know it’s more than enough for nail polish and cat food. It’s better than he deserves. “Now you can fuck off.”
He gapes at me like a dying fish for a minute, before scrambling to pick up the money. I step over him on the way out the door, steering my woman with my hand on her back around this waste of flesh.
I grab a bag as we pass the register, dropping the cans inside, then throwing the basket over my head, listening to it crash into the ceiling then fall to the floor with a crunch as the bells on the door signal our exit.