Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
She wasn’t ready for us, for a true wedding night. I’d already taken her virginity, I didn’t need to fuck her again until we were both damn good and ready. Although I wanted to. Tonight was certainly not the night.
I took care of her bra, flicking open the clasp, and then helping it find its way onto the floor. Her thong was easy. The flimsy fabric gave way, and I tossed it to the floor.
I stayed behind her, staring at her naked back, not liking the weight she had lost, but also knowing there was nothing I could do about it. I stripped out of my clothes, and then put my hands on her hips and guided her into the shower. She didn’t fight me.
When I touched her, I felt her tense. I moved her into the shower, and the water had now gotten nice and warm. We stepped beneath the water and I closed the door.
Niamh tilted her head back, eyes closed, and allowed the water to wash over her. I was able to just watch her. I didn’t need to talk or to ruin the moment. Neither of us did.
With her distracted, I reached for the soap and a sponge, lathering it up. I pulled Niamh into my arms, and the moment I touched her, she flinched, which I wasn’t happy about, but there was nothing I could do.
Keeping one hand on her at all times, I began to soap her body.
“Do you ever wonder what our kid would be like?” I asked.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Just the other day, I was in my office at the penthouse. I’ve not taken you to my other home yet, but I’ve got a yard. Even a basketball court and a tennis court. I couldn’t help but imagine our son shooting hoops on that court. Our daughter dribbling the ball down the court.”
“Please,” she said.
I never planned to tell her about my past, about who I was. My past was exactly that, in the past. “I don’t know how to be a father. I’m not going to compare or compete with your father. Your father is an asshole. My father is dead and I killed him. Don’t feel any kind of sadness or pity. My dad was evil to the core.” She didn’t make a sound. I’d always tried to avoid talking about my personal life back in Pickle Quest. “My dad was a different kind of father. To him, he didn’t want anyone weak or feeble. To him, there was nothing worse than having a weak kid, because they were going to grow into a weak adult. He couldn’t stand that. So, he came up with this marvelous idea where he would test his children’s strength. I was put through a lot of tests by my father.”
I massaged the sponge into her flesh, and waited for my words to sink in.
“I know what you’re thinking. Math tests? Spelling? Arithmetic? My dad didn’t give a fuck about how educated we were. I’ll tell you about one of the tests. None of us could learn to swim, and he always felt that the best way to learn was by throwing you into the deep end. That is how I learned to swim.”
Niamh gasped and she tried to turn, but I didn’t want to look at her while I talked about a time I promised myself I would never speak of again. This was all in the past. I was more than happy to let it go. The people were all dead.
“He grabbed me, threw me in the deep end of the pool, and told me I’d win by learning to swim and not drown. I was so tired by the end of that day. My arms ached like I’d been fighting a superhero or something. And to make sure I knew how to swim, he did it again, immediately after. So even tired, I had no choice but to fight for my life.”
“That is awful.”
“My sister and brother were not so lucky.”
This made Niamh gasp. “They died.”
“Yes.”
“Another test—he dumped me and other kids out into the woods to survive. It was freezing cold, so not only was I fighting the elements to survive, he’d also sent men in there to hunt us down.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. There is no way that could happen.”
“I got out. I killed the hunter, and I knew there were others that didn’t survive. He attempted to brand me.” This time, I did spin her around, taking hold of her fingers, and placing it at a patch of my thigh I had covered with ink. “Some of us died of sepsis. He refused to treat us, and he even left us outside. I was able to take care of myself. Others were not so lucky.” I hadn’t thought of the other boys and girls, who had struggled against the fever.