Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Dolly leans over to whisper, “Your new boyfriend’s famous. I hadn’t heard of him, but from what some of the other counselors said, he’s a big deal in the adrenaline junkie world.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mutter, but inside my head a plan is wiggling itself together.
No fraternization policy or not, I think I’ve found my Matt Dillon.
Chapter Six
Price
After the team meeting, I practically trample the staff that stand between me and my prize.
Anger coils inside me. At myself.
I shouldn’t have bolted like I did last night, but when I saw she was going to be on my staff, I fucking panicked like a kid caught with his pants down. I suck with people. Knowing how to handle most normal situations challenges me.
Then, when I tried to casually ask Ted about a counselor named Summer Greer…
He told me she’s the girl we hired as the ages six through eight cabin monitor but also…Hailey’s speech therapist.
Fuck. I want to be the dad my daughter needs. I want to break the cycle of shitty parenting that goes back three generations in my family.
It’s only been a year since we’ve been together full time, and when I found out kids at her school were teasing her because of her lisp, I damn near burned the place to the ground. After I scared the shit out of the principal and her teacher, they said she might get some help from a speech therapist.
The summer camp and our move was already planned, so when Ted came across a counselor’s application that had some speech therapy background on it, I told him to get her here.
Now, here she is, and I’m totally fucked.
All I want is to carry her back to my office, shove her over my desk and mount her like a junkyard dog. I can practically hear the sound of wet flesh slapping, her breath being driven from her lungs with every pump, pump, pump.
And then give her more, because I’ll never be able to stop when it comes to her. I’m surprised I’m not getting complaints about the obvious hard-on tenting the front of my combat pants ever since she walked in the room.
I damn near kicked the door down when she disappeared into the ladies’ room before I could chase her down.
She emerged wearing her Camp WanderLust t-shirt and our standard khaki shorts, and the fuck if she doesn’t make the uniform look like Victoria’s Secret on steroids. She’s tamed her hair into two braids tied with little lavender ribbons, as I watch her park her wobbling suitcase next to a bookcase filled with lime green bins with each camper’s name on the side.
Taking on the camp with my friend Ted will not be without its challenges for me. But I agreed that sticking with the standing schedule of a youth camp this summer would be a good way to ease into the closest thing to a job I’ve had in a decade.
As she fists her hips, her make-up freshened and a shimmering pink lipstick applied to the lips that were around my cock, our eyes find each other.
My fingers twitch as I start her way, remembering how her hair felt clutched between them.
A few other staff are gathered around as everyone does the expected mingling after the meeting.
The main hall is used for activities and meals, and I pick up from the group standing around me that the mounted boars’ heads and stuffed black bear in the corner might not be PC. I don’t care right now.
They’re talking, but I’m processing none of it. My eyes are locked on her as she scans the room, looking unsure, her gaze flickering over me with an impish smile, and I walk away from the other counselors without a goodbye.
“About last night,” I start, barely able to form words, remembering how I had the hardest orgasm of my life hours ago in her mouth.
“That’s a movie isn’t it? ‘About last night’…” She clicks her front teeth together, nipping at her manicured fingernail, and Jesus, I want that smile with me for the rest of my life. “Anyway, it’s fine. We both knew it was no strings. I was a little…” She tugs her lips to the side, squishing up her face. “Not myself. I would have never done that without tequila and blow job shots.”
My heart sinks. Is she trying to tell me in a polite way that without her beer goggles on, she would have never been interested in me?
Of course she isn’t, you ugly motherfucker. She’s so far above your paygrade, you couldn’t touch her if you were standing on a twelve-foot ladder.
No strings.
I suddenly hate that fucking expression. Yes there are fucking strings. The strings are, I don’t ever want to see you with another man. That no fraternization policy goes double for you, little sister.