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)
Tess is giggling when we get back to the pickup, like adrenaline has rushed through her. Her face is red though. She’s embarrassed.
“That was so bad,” she says. “I could have been arrested.”
“No,” I say. “I’d never allow that.”
“But…” She pulls nail polish out of her pocket. The unopened bottle is glittery and green.
“We paid for it.” I put the pickup into gear and pull out of the parking lot, wondering if she put it in her pocket by mistake or on purpose.
And does it matter?
“I was going to steal it.” She reads my mind, and I dislike the shame in her voice. “I’ve done it before, too. I just…” She seems to search the toes of her shoes for what comes next. “I’ve never had much money. And I can’t wear cute clothes, even if I could afford them. People get weird about me—about my body. Boys used to try to grab me. That’s why I wear men’s clothes. Big things. My mom’s boyfriends would either make fun of me or try—” She leaves that there when I start to growl as red creeps into my vision. “So, anyway… nails are kind of the only thing I can do to make myself feel pretty. Fancy, I guess. And I can barely afford cat food, so—”
“You don’t have to explain.” I swing open the passenger door, fixing the bag in the space behind her seat, then circle her soft waist in my hands and lift her into the truck, reaching around to buckle the belt over her cute little belly. “If you’re doing it, it’s right. I don’t care, but if you want polish, I’ll buy it for you. All the colors. But not from there.” I jerk my head toward the grocery as the sun turns my forehead warm. “We will find another store. A bigger store with the whole rainbow of colors, and I’ll fill a cart with them so you can have polish forever.”
I inhale, holding my breath, wondering if she thinks I’m crazy or stupid. Or both.
Her eyes widen. Then I catch tears glinting along the bottom rim.
Did I say something wrong?
“Nobody’s ever believed in me like that before. Or wanted to take care of me like that,” she says. And then she hugs me.
I’m overwhelmed by the tenderness. I haven’t been hugged since my grandma went to heaven.
There’s something soft inside of me that feels a lot like Tess herself. It blossoms open like spring flowers. I want to hold her forever, keep those flowers forever, just for us.
I make my way into the truck, turning the key and revving the engine, nearly pulling the wheel off the column as I barrel down Main Street back toward the mountain where I belong. With Tess.
But the need that cinches around my chest and squeezes my testicles is too much. That serpent inside me whispers that I need a taste. I need to eat her. I can’t stop myself.
Right outside town, I pull abruptly to the side of the road.
Tess’s breath gets caught in her throat and her eyes widen as she asks, “Rutger?”
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I fight to keep my voice steady. I haven’t cried since my dad died. Not even when Grandma and Grandpa left. I hate crying. I hate hurting. Tess is making tears come, but they aren’t the sad kind, they’re the desperate kind. The ones that tell me I haven't known sadness like the kind she could cause.
The kind I wouldn’t come back from if she was gone.
“I need.” The two words come back from when we were outside her cabin together. Touching. “Forest Daddy needs—".
And then she’s kissing me.
Her lips tease over mine. I’m too shocked to react at first. Fantasy and reality are crashing together, and I’m not sure if I’m awake, or even alive. It’s like heaven on her lips. Maybe a tree fell on me and I died.
Then my pounding heart and throbbing cock catch up.
She’s making these little sounds. They’re sweeter than anything I’ve ever heard before.
Fuck, those sounds.
When I growl again, she just opens her mouth wider and leans into me, and I can taste her sigh.
I cream my fucking jeans.
My body shakes hard as I pull her closer, crushing her against my chest. I breathe the heat of my desire into her. White spots sparkle on the edges of my vision from the sheer tension of coming, and it makes her glow in my eyes.
“That’s right,” she gasps. “You’re—you’re doing great, Daddy.”
I know from listening to people talk that Tess is only eighteen. I’m in my thirties and I almost could be her Daddy. I sure as hell feel possessive enough. Like it’s my only purpose in life to protect her now.
But I’m not that kind of Daddy. Not right now.
I’m the kind that shoves her back flat to the bench seat and covers her with my body, pressing every fucking inch of myself against every inch of her. Jerking and bucking and grunting so she knows what’s coming.