Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
But am I ready for that? And would Dalton, Blake, and Kain even want to do that?
I recall the original messages sent on our dial-a-dick chat. This is about my fantasies. The Nowak brothers agreed to give me whatever I wanted. If I ask for this, will it be a step too far?
I’m taking too long to reply, and Kain starts typing.
Kain - we could get a motel room. Molly’s?
I make a huffing sound because that’s where Ellie had her first group rendezvous with her stepbrothers. It’s a dump but I don’t think any of us would be fixated on the run-down decor.
There’s something about the idea of going to a new place specifically for sex that sends heat between my thighs. I could wear my red lace Basque set and my long beige coat. If we’re going to do the tacky motel thing, we might as well go the whole hog.
Blake - Come here, Gab. We’re waiting.
Dalton - Hell yeah.
Gabriella - I’ve got to eat first.
Blake - Then we’ll eat you!
Dalton - Dude!
Blake - What? We so will!
Kain - He’s right, Gab. We’re waiting.
Gab - This is starting to feel less like dial-a-dick and more like SMS-for-pussy.
Blake - I can change the name of the chat. That sounds like an improvement.
Kain - No, you can’t, Blake. See you soon, Gab x
I drop my phone to the couch, stifling my broad smile for fear that Mom will see. When I look up, she’s watching me. “Who was that on the phone?”
“Ellie,” I blurt.
“Oh really. It’s Ellie who has made your cheeks flame? Do you think I was born yesterday?”
I shrug, not prepared to admit to anything. “Can we just have grilled cheese and tomato soup tonight?” I ask, not wanting to waste time while Mom cooks up her usual storm.
“Sure,” Mom says.
I help her gather the butter and cheese from the fridge and she cuts slices of homemade bread for the grilled cheese. I search out a can of tomato soup before Mom can think about roasting her own tomatoes with garlic. There are three men waiting for sex less than twenty feet away. And I’m now so horny I can barely concentrate.
Mom asks me some questions about Uni, and I ask her about work. We laugh and eat and I’m filled with warm feelings that come with having a happy home. It’s a home that started with four of us, and then went down to three, and now it’s just two. For a second, I picture Mom in this kitchen with only herself to cook for, and it makes my heart sink. I wish she’d find a good man to live out her days with companionship. I want her to be happy.
“Have you ever thought about dating again?” I ask. It’s been over ten years since Dad died and I’ve never asked her if it’s something she’d be interested in.
Her face falls, and I immediately feel terrible. Is it still too much of a sore subject for her to consider? I’ve seen the grief fade over the years, but maybe she’s just gotten better at covering it up. “I’m so busy,” she says, glancing out of the window. It’s as though she doesn’t want to look me in the eye.
“I know, Mom. You work so hard. I see it, but that shouldn’t mean you don’t have time for friendship and companionship.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” she says, then changes the subject to her latest conversation with Travis.
After we’ve finished eating, I load the dishwasher, and then tell her, as nonchalantly as possible, that I’m popping over to Celine’s house. Relationship drama is the excuse I give.
“Okay, honey.” She smiles, and my belly is filled with sadness at her attempt to cover up what I perceive as enforced loneliness. That and butterflies from the guilt of lying. “I’m not going to wait up. I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I run upstairs, thankful that I showered when I returned from college. I slip on a sexy black lace underwear set and throw my favorite sweats over the top. White sneakers finish the casual look. Tossing my phone in my purse, I jog back down, calling out a goodbye as I leave.
The night air is refreshing, but I don’t get a chance to enjoy it because I have to move my damned car. I park around the corner, and set off back to the Nowak house, praying my mom isn’t looking out the window as I pass home.
It’s been ages since I last approached the blue door and rang the bell, and I’m suddenly transported back in time to when I was level with the shiny chrome doorknob. So much has changed since then.
Kain opens the door, standing far back enough that I can enter. I stare around at the home that is still so familiar. The same photos grace the walls, the same hardwood stretches into the den and beyond. The same furniture rests comfortably in the places I remember. It’s like a museum to a past life, one where Sofie Nowak, Kain’s mom, is still alive, and I’m just a bratty little girl wanting to play with the mischievous neighbors.