Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
The Wanderer waits for us to board, a sleek large yacht, shiny in the afternoon sun. We’re getting lucky with the weather today, and yet some crazed part of me doesn’t believe that it’s luck. Some part of me thinks somebody, or something, arranged for the sun to shine down on us so brightly, as though somebody knows that I’m taking my lady out on the water today.
“Ah, here they are,” Ma says, commanding my attention.
I return to her side, standing up a little straighter now that I know my queen is almost with me.
A different feeling moves over me, not the same as last night. It’s warmer, fuzzy almost.
At first, I’m shocked.
I never felt this way.
But I can’t let my lust take control of me when my mother is standing right next to me, conscious of any change in my mood or demeanor.
Today has to be about romance, not the beast inside of me, the beast that’s battering its claws against my self-restraint, trying to break free and turn me feral.
Vinnie brings the jet-black car to the end of the dock and parks.
I feel my heartbeat pick up as my gaze comes to rest on her. She’s wearing the black winter coat I included in the box with the life jackets, the hood covered in frilly faux-fur. Beneath the coat – despite how thick and warm it is – my eyes automatically pick out the shape of her body, the heaving motion of her breasts.
I bite down and flit my gaze to her sister, instead, to stop the lust from erupting inside of me.
Her sister is shorter then Kimberly, with short hair and a thin build. She holds Tinkerbell in her arms, already wearing the life jacket Mother had made for the pup when I told her about the little Chihuahua.
We walk forward and meet them in the middle of the dock.
Kimberly’s eyes flit here and there as we approach, never quite settling.
She’s nervous, I guess, about me meeting her sister. Or about meeting my mother.
I stroll over to her and lean down, kissing her respectably on the cheek. I make sure to make it a quick kiss. Otherwise, I know something will erupt inside of me and make it impossible to hold myself back.
I stand up, the taste of her cool skin on my lips.
“Kimberly, Jackie, this is my mother, Carmela Cameno,” I say, waving a hand.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Mother says, stepping forward and embracing them both in turn, with kisses on both cheeks for good measure. “And this little darling must be Tinkerbell. Hello, girl.”
“Careful,” Jackie says. “She doesn’t like—oh.”
Jackie trails off when Tinkerbell tips her head back, grinning as Mother tickles her behind the ear.
“She’s never done that with a stranger before,” Jackie murmurs.
“That’s because she knows we’re not going to be strangers for long,” Mother thrills.
“Jackie,” Kimberly says. “This is Kristian. My …”
“I’m her boyfriend,” I say.
The word doesn’t do it justice, not even close.
Still, conventionalities come in use sometimes.
My heart – dormant for years – flares to life when Kimberly smiles at my words. It’s a bright smile, a new-star smile, and I find myself almost smiling like a fresh-faced boy in return. It clearly means a lot to her, and that makes it mean a lot to me.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Jackie says. “And thank you.”
I incline my head. She’s talking about the rent, I presume.
“There are no thanks required,” I tell her. “Shall we board?”
“What do you think, little lady, hmm?” Mother says, still doting on Tinkerbell. “Would you like to get on the water?”
The little white dog whines and moans, squirming in Jackie’s arms.
“What is it, girl?” Jackie says. “You want to go with Carmela?”
“Oh, please,” Mother laughs delightedly. “If you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Jackie says, handing Tinkerbell over.
Tinkerbell curls up in Mother’s arms, rubbing against her jacket.
“Look, Kris,” she gushes. “Doesn’t she just remind you of Rusty?”
“Who’s Rusty?” Kimberly asks as the four of us move toward the yacht.
“Rusty,” I say, reaching down and taking her hand, our touch causing my skin to tingle, “was a Great Dane the size of a vending machine. I fail to see the comparison, Ma.”
“It’s in the eyes,” she declares. “When you’re dealing with dogs and people, you must always judge by the eyes.”
I share a look with Kimberly, and she smiles, letting me know she’s having a good time. So far, I’d say, this is going pretty well.
“You didn’t tell me it was going to be boiling hot,” Kimberly smiles, shrugging off her coat.
I almost roar when I see what she’s wearing underneath. It’s a gray hoodie, which perhaps shouldn’t send me into a near-frenzied compulsion. The fabric is thin, though, so thin that it outlines her build perfectly.
I turn my gaze away from her, gazing from the heated enclosure in which we sit out on the water. I stare across the sun-dappled sky to the iron-gray city, small and seemingly insignificant in the distance.