Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
And when Sam wrapped his hand around his shaft, I did the same.
When he came, I came with him too.
A man is only as good as his word. He’d made the mistake of thinking I was a good man.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sam
Weekend One
“How do I look?” I asked Molly.
I’d decided to get ready at her place. Mom thought I was spending the weekend with Molly, but hopefully I’d be having lots of sex with Emerson instead.
Mama hadn’t had another drunken night like the one from a few weeks before. We didn’t talk about it afterward; most of the time, that didn’t do any good. Even if I told her how I felt and promises were made, even if she broke down, angry with herself, hating what she did, things never changed. Sure, we had lulls, which we often did after bad nights, but the lulls always ended, so I’d learned to take advantage of them while I could.
“You look like you’re going on a date, not spending the weekend having sex with some guy who’s not only paying you, but seems like a bit of an asshole too.”
I flopped onto her bed, lying down with my legs over the side, throwing an arm over my eyes. “A hot asshole.”
“Yes, that, but still a jerk. Are you sure you want to do this?” Molly sat beside me. I was waiting for her to ask me this. I could sense it brewing from the night I told her what Emerson had offered me. Molly genuinely had my best interests at heart, but she didn’t get it.
I sat up because some conversations called for it. “Damn straight I am. I know you don’t understand. And I know you think it’s just about the sex, which makes it even more confusin’ to you…and while it is, it also isn’t. Name one thing in my life that’s only mine?” Sure I had Molls, but she was still connected to my family. I waited, and when Molly didn’t respond, I continued. “Name one time I did something for myself? Or shucked my responsibilities? One place in this whole damn world where I can be completely myself? Because no matter how much I love you and how much I know you love me, I can’t even with you. Since the moment you found out about Emerson, you’ve been judgin’ me for what I’m doing. You’re the same with the videos. It’s different with him.”
She was visibly uncomfortable. “Shit. I know. I’m sorry.” Molly scooted closer to me and dropped her head on my shoulder. “I’m just afraid you’ll get hurt.”
“It’s sex, Molls. I won’t get hurt.”
“What if you want more from him?”
“I won’t.” I kissed her temple, then stood. I took off the stupid button-up shirt I’d put on. What a dumbass choice that had been. She was right. I wasn’t going on a date. Hopefully, I’d be naked most of the weekend anyway. I put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and plucked the bag from Molly’s bed. “I have clothes, which hopefully I won’t need.” I waggled my brows at her. “Lube and condoms, which I hope I do.” Well, at least the lube. I was sorta excited about trying sex without condoms. I had my test results packed in my bag too.
“You’re a fool.”
“I know it.”
“Text me. Seriously, at least a couple of times a day. I want to make sure you’re okay. He could be some psycho murderer on the run and we don’t know.”
I fought the urge to laugh. She had quite the imagination. “He’s not a murderer.”
I ruffled my wet hair, put on my ball cap, backward, then socks and shoes. I looked at my friend again, trying to pretend I wasn’t as stressed out as I was. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” Molly kissed my cheek. “Be safe.”
“I will.”
The drive to Emerson’s place felt like it took a hundred years. We’d said after work on Friday, but he hadn’t specified a time. Hopefully he hadn’t expected me earlier, but I’d wanted to make sure to shower and clean up before I went to him.
Since we’d made this arrangement, I’d only seen him once at the market. Every day I expected to deliver a package to his door or for Emerson to order food and tell me he’d changed his mind, that he didn’t want me. It damn near killed me not to just show up, but I already looked like an inexperienced kid to him. The last thing I wanted was to add pathetic to that.
My gut twisted up as I turned down Emerson’s driveway, bumping along the familiar gravel road. His house was set far off the road, almost a mile back, trees blocking his property from prying eyes.
When I pulled up, I saw him digging in his yard, next to the barn—shirt off, evening sun glinting off beads of sweat on his back. His muscles constricted and moved as he pushed the shovel into the ground, then tossed dirt aside.