Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I allow myself one more act of perversion and move to the side so she has to walk past me and I get to see her delectable derriere as she goes. It’s even better than I imagined. And now, I must put all of that out of my head and treat her like the son-stealing harlot that she is.
“Have you ever had eggs benedict?” I ask, moving to the refrigerator and pulling it open.
“Nope,” she replies, pulling herself up onto the counter.
I’m torn between ogling her bare thighs or following the pretty glow of her tan to her feet and back up to her cunt. I wonder if, when she slides down, the boxers will hug her lips like a glove and show me just a glimpse of her young pussy.
How old is she anyway? If she’s my son’s age she’s far too young for my perverted mind. Even though she looks all woman. Her body is that of an athlete in her mid-twenties at the latest and I can’t stop obsessing.
“There are stools,” I snap, my anger misplaced.
“Sorry, Sarge.” She hops down. I grit my teeth at the sound of that name. “It’s a habit. You just sort of sit wherever you can when you’re backpacking.”
I light the stove and get to work making breakfast, turning on the radio to fill the silence and to stop me from having to speak with her for any longer.
Tempest
He places a full plate in front of me and my stomach growls its approval. I hope he doesn’t hear it over the music.
“Thank you.” I politely bow my head and bring my hand up to touch my hair.
“Something you learned in Cambodia?”
I nod and reply, “A custom in a village I was in a while ago, a habit you learned quickly or you quickly felt a cane strike your bare thighs.” He shifts on the spot and I wonder if I’ve made him uncomfortable. “It’s a habit you don’t forget once you feel the pain of that thin piece of polished wood when it hits you.”
His dark eyes stare at me for the longest moment and then he takes his plate and leaves the kitchen without another word, vanishing into the hall.
Was it something I said?
Moments later Maddox sleepily enters. “Dad’s been cooking?”
I nod, smiling at his nest of messy hair. Yanking the amber beads that dangle around his neck I admonish, “You shouldn’t sleep in those. It’s dangerous.”
He hits my hand away and rolls his eyes. “Sorry, Mom.”
I finish my breakfast as he helps himself to what’s left in the pan.
“What did my dad say to you?”
“He just offered me breakfast.” And he ogled my body in a way that was so obvious and degrading I wanted to kick him in his nuts. Not that I don’t appreciate the attention of a good-looking man, but not one that so obviously disrespects me based on the fact I have a vagina. Which, by the straining in his trousers, he wants to plunder with his cock.
He’s Maddox’s dad. It’s just wrong on so many levels. I mean, Maddox is twenty-one, so he has to be at least forty, that’s if he was a young father. He doesn’t look old, but he does look handsomely mature. Why do handsome men age so well? I deduct he can’t be older than forty-three.
“Good.” He takes a bite of his eggs and moans. “I’ve missed being home.”
“I’m not surprised, look at this place.” I grin, swinging my arms out. “It’s amazing. What does your dad do and can I do it too?”
“He runs a transportations company. He handles imports and exports for some pretty major businesses all around the world.”
I nod slowly, impressed. “He runs it?”
“With my godfather, yep. They started when they were in their teens and worked hard to build something together.”
“That’s inspirational.”
He shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “He missed out on a lot though, building his empire. It’s why he’s so lax with me. He wants me to experience life before I tie myself to his company.”
“That’s actually really nice. I wish I had parents like that.”
His hand squeezes my knee when I tilt my head and spy a fancy-looking camera inside a kitchen cupboard, through a glass panel.
“One of yours?”
“No.” He puffs out his cheeks. “That’s my dad’s. He keeps it there for the memories because he doesn’t get the urge anymore. When he was younger he wanted to be a photographer. He’s the one who taught me all about lighting and angles.”
“Is he good?”
“He’s incredible. He has an eye for images. He never took random shots, even as I was growing up. Every shot was perfect.” He looks to be awed by his own opinions. He really respects and loves his dad. And then he ruins it by smirking while saying, “But I surpassed him quickly enough.”