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 have to be at my bus stop by seven-thirty.”
“That’s fine. My alarm is set for five-thirty anyway.” I leave her there and walk into my bedroom and close the door, locking it behind me. I don’t want to have temptation lurking. I let my fatigue take me.
The next morning I drop her off at her house, waiting until she’s secure inside and then I pull onto the road and off to work. I hope that’s the last I see of the cute minor. I have one more school year before I can claim her. That’s a strange thought in my head. A year from next week. I try to shove it away because it’s for the best.
Chapter One
Dean Jr.
A year to the day…
I twist the shower handle to ice cold, but that has no effect on my dick. Every inch of the fucker is solid stone and ready to unload like it is every time Greta crosses my mind. Admitting defeat, I turn the spray to a normal temp and lube up my cock with bodywash and stroke the fucker.
In my head Greta's already mine, and I'm doing everything possible to knock her up, but first I have to teach her a lesson about looking at me. She shyly refuses to meet my eyes, so I grip her chin. "Open, baby."
She does and I slip the tip in and watch as she feels my cock on her lips for the first time. Groaning, I grip her hair, and tug her head up so her eyes are focused on mine. "Suck like the good girl you are. Every time you refuse to give me your eyes, I'm going to fuck your pretty mouth until you remember that I need them beauties. You don't lower your head to no one. Now suck. I need my balls empty." Greta opens wider, attempting to take me in as deep as she can, choking with just a couple of inches. She pulls off for a breath before going harder at it, taking another inch before gagging again. "What a fucking good wife you're going to make Greta. Where do you want me to come? Because I sure as fuck am."
She moans before pulling off, and says, "In my pussy. I want you to fill me up with all your hot cum."
I scoop her up and pin her against the wall, slamming my rod deep into her innocent slit until she cries out. I don't stop, pumping harder, faster, giving my woman what she needs. "I'm coming," she screams, and I do as well, shooting my load deep in her womb.
I open my eyes to the mess I've made of my shower stall as my heart attempts to recover. I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to handle it when I finally take her because I understand my fantasies got nothing on her. I wash up and then turn off the tap. Snagging a towel, I dry off and look at my semi-hard cock. "Stay under control today. I have a job to do."
It's useless because it doesn't matter what I do, I can't get Greta out of my head almost all day. I run my electric razor over my face, trimming my growing beard down to a manageable scruff. After that's done, I find my suit for the day and change before heading into the station. It's going to be a long evening, but the cases are continually growing. It's the one job that will always be in need, a homicide detective. I haven't been in my position for more than a few months, so I get the shittiest cases, late night calls, of which there are many. Sometimes I go from one damn crime scene to the next depending on a given night, especially weekends when fools run amok.
Once I'm dressed, I send a text to my brother to give me details about Greta and who the fuck her date is. So far, no one has mentioned it. Benji and James claim they have no idea who he is because the girls have been completely mum about the whole situation.
Two minutes later, my dad sends me a text. Relax. Don't go guns blazing in there to kill her date.
Don’t worry. I’m working all night.
Then that means I’ll be worrying. I love you, son.
Love you too, dad.
I haven’t seen her in months, and tonight’s the night I’ve been dreading. She’s fucking going to prom with some jackass, and I can’t do shit about it.
The ride to the station is filled with stress. I don’t know what they have in store for me today, but it’s never ever good. I’m going to watch some family suffer with grief as they learn their loved one has been killed. Roxbury’s my usual area, so I expect to be too busy to think of Greta. However as soon as I get inside, my partner, Malcolm McKnight comes up to me with a grin on his face. “We got the son of a bitch.”