Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Where did you think she was going to go? the voice in my head asks in a reasonable tone. Did you think she was banging men in the car? On the bus?
Hell, she doesn’t even have a car! I rage. She uses MY car! That fact only adds fuel to the fire as I stalk down the street, still blind with fury. What the fuck? My hands clench, the knuckles white, as I let out a low growl. I’m pissed beyond all hell, and I can’t fucking believe the gall of that girl. Not to mention, Clara’s pregnant too! What pregnant woman does that?
Finally, I arrive at our local park. It’s deserted and I take a seat on a nearby bench, trying to calm down. Let it go, the voice in my head advises again. She’s a grown woman and besides, you never said she couldn’t. If she wanted to bring one of her paramours home, then that’s her business.
But it’s my house! the voice in my head howls once more. She was fucking another man on MY territory!
I’m so fucking pissed and the rage rises all over again in my chest, making it impossible to see anything but red. I stare up into the sun, blinding myself as a result, but I don’t care. Obviously, I can’t head to the golf course like this. I’d miss every shot and probably end up breaking a club or two, seeing how angry I am. Yet I can’t go home either because obviously, a confrontation at this point would be disaster. I’d most likely pummel Clara’s lover before starting in on the sweet girl herself. Then, I’d pull her right under me and use her curves like a filthy savage.
None of those options is feasible, and as a result, I just sit on the bench like a loser. I’m so pissed and angry, and yet there’s no outlet for me to vent. I want to blame Clara. I want to blame myself. Hell, I want to blame her nameless lover, but what can I do? I never had any claim to the sweet girl, and I never made my desires known. She’s just going about her life like a normal person, and I’m the one who’s the chump. I’m the one who’s missing out as everyone goes about their own sweet business, oblivious to my rage.
After a couple hours, the sun begins to set and dusk descends on the playground. The light takes on an amber sheen, and at least I’m able to see straight now. Come to think of it, a couple families have come and gone during the day, and I probably looked like some type of criminal to them. After all, why would a single guy be sitting motionless on the benches while staring at the jungle gym? I saw how the mothers shot me suspicious glances before guiding their children away. But no cops have come, and fortunately, the park is empty once more. I’m still seething, even if plumes of smoke are no longer wafting from my ears.
But then, a small hand touches my shoulder and I hear a sweet voice that torments and arouses me at once.
“Carl?” Clara asks in a tentative tone. “What are you doing here? I thought you were playing golf today.”
I turn immediately and sure enough, the sweet girl stands there, her brown curls waving around those innocent features. She’s wearing a modest floral sundress over her lush curves and I stare hungrily at the creaminess of her thighs before my eyes go up to rest on that angelic face. Her lips are plush and just the tiniest bit swollen. It all comes rushing back then. She was taking cock in her mouth and that’s why they look bee-stung. I know it, and the rage surges in my veins once more.
“How did you find me?” I bite out.
Clara looks startled at my harsh voice.
“Just by accident,” she says in a hesitant tone. “I decided to take a walk, and you know I often come to McCarren Park. I saw you sitting here and was surprised because I thought you were golfing. You’re dressed for it, after all,” she says, nodding to my polo shirt and khaki pants.
But I’m too angry to play nice. Instead, I shoot her a searing look.
“You thought I was playing golf, huh?”
Clara nods, biting her lip.
“Did you just get back and decide to take a break here? Or …?” she pauses, unsure of what to say. I want to scream out loud, but instead keep my voice low even if there’s no one around.
“No, I didn’t get to the course today,” I rasp. “I’ve been stewing on this bench like a fucking chump for hours.”
The pretty brat looks truly confused.
“Really? But why, Carl? What’s going on?”
I know I shouldn’t take it out on Clara. I know that I should keep my mouth buttoned up and move on. I can kick her out of the house, if need be. I can force her to live in a shelter, or hell, move in with her lover. I can get her fired from Herald and withdraw all financial support, and that should satisfy my desire for vengeance. But a crazed man doesn’t always think straight, and before I know it, the words come out in a torrent.