Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
I'm not saying that I wasn't a walking hard on as a teen, but I channeled that release for when I was home alone and turned the rest into working out until the urge passes. Since I met Greta, my cock lives for thoughts of her. I can’t wait to get my hands on her soft skin and make her mine. Time can’t move fast enough.
The sound of dad’s SUV pulling up tells me that I’ve taken too much damn time, playing with myself like the sick fuck I’ve become, so I do my best to prepare to congratulate my future wife. The front door chimes and voices cheer as I finish slipping on my clothes. It’s a fucking struggle, but I do my best to make it work so I don’t feel completely helpless.
I take the stairs gingerly, finding my father coming up to meet me. "Sorry, I should have been down here sooner," I grunt out. As much as I should be ashamed to need his help, I'm fucking lucky to be alive so I'll take all the assistance I can to get back to one hundred.
"Don't rush, Junior. You need to be resting as much as possible," he reminds me. Everyone's watching as we make the final step, and James brings over the wheelchair. I hate to say I need it, but I'm fucking beat. I've only been out of the hospital two days after catching an infection which was more dangerous than my initial injuries.
"Dean, you're here," Emily calls out, giving my girl an excuse to speak. She gets so nervous around me.
"I couldn't miss celebrating with the rest of you. Congratulations, Em, Greta." She looks up at me in surprise at the mention of her name like she hadn’t expected me to address her. I don't take my eyes off Greta until she ducks her head, but I can still see the blush spreading across her cheeks. Damn, I'm glad I'm sitting in this chair or I'd embarrass myself.
"Dean, thank you. You should be resting," Greta scolds me like a good wife. Damn, I want to bite that pouty lip of hers. She's lucky I'm forced to wait.
"I've rested enough. Time to have some fun,” I growl, refusing to stop smiling.
"You're right! Who's ready to eat?" I silently thank my mother for breaking the tension because my dick’s so hard right now, I can use it as a cane.
"Me," Emily shouts, nudging past James.
"Of course," Becky giggles, rolling her eyes at Em who is always hungry.
"Sweetie, did you take your meds?" my mother asks. She truly lives up to the name Angel.
"Yes, Mom."
"So no alcohol. I just wanted to make sure before I forget."
"No problem." I roll up next to Greta who stands there looking nervous.
"Are you okay, Greta?"
"Yes, it's just...It breaks my heart to see you like this. Does it hurt a lot?" She bites her bottom lip and I want to pull her onto my lap and let her know my injuries can be made better by her.
"Not that bad, baby. I'm going to be okay in time. I promise." I take her hand and bring it to my lips.
"Okay, enough of that. You've got a long way to go." Greta's face turns crimson, and I flip off my brother Benji who decides to come behind me and push me into the kitchen. "Remember to take it easy or you won't heal as fast as you want." I suppose he does have a point. I want to make sure I devote my entire energy to healing so that I can be with Greta once her birthday comes. The rest of the night is fun, but I’m worn out early.
Sleep doesn’t come easy until I pop the pills I’m supposed to take and then my mind goes into dream mode. Greta has starred in most of the dreams and many of the nightmares that I’ve had. It’s the fear that we can never be together that fuels the bad ones, but the good ones are driven by pure lust and hunger.
This morning is my first home session of PT and I’m not looking forward to it. The guy coming works with a lot of the officers and gets them up and running quickly, but he’s also a handsome, brawny son of a bitch and I don’t want my girl around him.
As I get ready for breakfast, I lose my appetite when I spot Greta in a pair of too cute shorts. "What are you wearing?" I snarl out.
"It looks like clothes. Don't start shit with me, Dean. I'm not one of your sisters. My shorts are a normal length."
"Ouch," Benji says, walking into the kitchen.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Wow, so your temper isn't just for our adorable guest. I happen to have a meeting with Dad about something, so mind your business."