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)
She was wearing a giant shirt and jeans, but they didn’t do a lot to hide her body. I still can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to weigh those huge breasts in my hands—and I’ve never touched a woman before, not like that, but I can still vividly imagine how good the weight will settle on my palms.
I want that big round ass of hers pressed against my lap. I wanna grab her waist and measure it between my forefingers and thumbs. I don’t know I could reach all the way around, but goddamn if I don’t wanna try.
The instant I saw her, my dick got so hard that I couldn’t think about anything except pressing it between her breasts and against her ass and just everywhere. I imagined rubbing it all over her softness, up her back, on her poochy little belly, even slapping her cute little cherub cheeks with the head. I almost did it too. I had to force my feet to stay stuck on the ground—
Dammit, I’m made out of need.
Everything human is gone from me. My worries are drowned out by a screaming animal howling for its mate, like wolves hollering all through mating season.
And now that I’ve seen her up close, it’s worse. I caught her scent even hiding behind the sign but now? It’s assaulting me.
Ruining me from the inside out. I thought I might chill the fuck out if I could just look her in the eye. I thought if I got close, I’d notice bad stuff and lose the fantasy.
She’s better than the fantasy.
Tess has pretty fingers tipped by neon nail polish and full lips that I want to feel around my dick. I’m just as interested in her throat. She shows it off when she tilts her head back to look up at me, because she’s such a tiny little princess.
The curve of her chin to her neck to the skin I can just barely see under the gap of her collar—I want to sink my teeth into it. Lick it. Shove my nose in her hair to smell it. I want to stick my tongue in her ears and taste her. There and other places. All the places, but especially down low. Where I know she has womanly parts.
Yes, God, I want to eat that part of her. Eat. It.
I’ve never felt like this before.
I’ve never met a woman who makes my head feel fuzzy and like the world is spinning me sideways.
I should have been listening when Lindsay was talking, but looking and listening to her with Tess so close was impossible.
Lindsay and I have business. She says she’s been trying to renew the lease so her art program can stay on my land. We can resolve all your concerns, she said, like I should understand what she’d been telling me. I hadn’t even heard a thing she said before that because I was eating Tess with my eyes.
It would have been fine, except that I still haven’t read the lease.
That’s the biggest problem.
I can’t fucking read enough to know what the hell Lindsay wants from me.
Leases have a lot of long words. Lawyer words. Paragraphs of it.
When you grow up in the forest, there isn’t a lot of chance to learn fancy words.
I can read stuff like “caution” and “DeWalt” and “double aught” and exactly everything else I need to do my normal work around the property. I’m good at my work. I’m great with my hands. I have to be. I started working with my dad at the lumber mill when most kids were learning letters, and I lost half of two fingers over it. The ring finger and pinkie on my right hand don’t go past the second knuckle.
I’m still real good with those damaged hands.
Back when I still had grandparents, Grandma tried to teach me the letters and the words, but my brain didn’t seem to want to understand. It would twist the letters, and it would make me mad. So, they told me to be proud of my big, calloused hands instead.
“Sign of a man who works for a living,” said Grandpa.
They took me in after my dad died to the sawmill. Someone hadn’t inspected the safety on one of the machines in too long, Dad tripped at the wrong moment, and he was just gone like that.
One day I had him. The next day I didn’t.
It took a little longer for my mom to disappear.
She didn’t die. She just left.
See, my mom was scared of me. I hit six feet tall before I was even a teenager. “Early bloomer,” she used to say, like it was an insult. “You’re a monster.”
She was nice to me sometimes, but it always felt a little like she was just a zookeeper trying to keep the lion fed with a long stick.