Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
For me this would mean some light workouts, healthy eating, and maybe watching some game films. The only thing wrong with that plan is that it leaves far too much free time for my head to get caught up in Simone.
I fucking gave in to her.
Sue me.
When a naked woman walks in your room, and you already know she’s the hottest fuck you’ll ever have, there’s just no turning her away.
So I put aside any foreboding I had about messing with a nice girl like her and I let her ride my face, then my cock. It was risky with Lucas across the hall, but until I came down off my orgasm, I just didn’t give a fuck about that.
What I did give a fuck about, and still do, is letting someone like Simone get close to me. I’ve never done it before, not only because I was being cautious given my familial history, but because I’ve just never met anyone who intrigued me the way she has. Her fierce determination, snarky attitude, and weirdly sweet disposition makes her beyond intriguing to me. Add on the “hottest fuck ever” thing, and it’s no wonder I’m letting some of my barriers down.
But they can’t go all the way down. I still have to exercise caution with her. Because while I deep down know that my father was fucking with me yesterday at the prison, I can’t seem to displace the foreboding sense that I could have something dark inside of me just waiting to spring free.
My father is a mystery that will never be solved. He had so many people fooled. The double life he led was what was shocking about his crimes. He was a hardworking man who came home to eat dinner with his family. He took us to church on Sundays. Gave my mom compliments and brought her flowers. Helped the neighbors whenever he could. He was a regular fucking Joe, and no one had a clue.
If he’s telling me the truth, and he didn’t start killing until after he met and married my mom, then did that mean she was a trigger? Did having the security of a wife and a family give him the balls to give in to his sickness?
What if I’m just waiting for my trigger to come along?
I know that would probably sound completely ridiculous to any competent psychiatrist. Hell, it even sounds ridiculous to me, but I’ve spent my entire life worrying about just such a thing. My dad called my mom a cow yesterday, which was absolutely shocking to me. He’d always treated her with reverence and care in front of me. A motherfucking chameleon is what he was, and it just proves to me that you can never truly know a person. While the logical side of me knows it’s absurd to think this way, I can’t help but wonder if my genetics are completely fucked by my dad.
That there could be a monster inside of me, perhaps only visible on a cellular level at this point, is what really plagues me. What if it breaks free and then my life is doomed? While I can truthfully say the thought of raping or killing a woman is so disgusting to me and I want to throw up at the thought, I’m still a dark man. When it comes to sex, my thoughts are usually filthy half the time, perverted the other times. I’m angry much of the time, tiny frustrations or annoyances having the ability to make me explode. My rage is always best channeled out on the ice where I can beat the fuck out of an opponent, but I’ve gotten in plenty of bar fights in my life if I’ve been pissed off.
Would I ever hurt Simone if she angered me enough? Do I have that in me?
I’ve never cared about anyone in my life other than myself and Etta. I’m not sure if I really care about Simone, but I’d have to say I must, or I wouldn’t be letting these things wig me out. I’d fuck her and not give her a second thought, but here I am obsessing about it.
Which is why I’m in the small garden shed that sits just off the house. There’s an old push mower and a gas lawn mower, but both Lucas and I have been too busy—or lazy—to hire someone to do the yard. The grass is getting ridiculously high, and I could stand to burn some energy.
So I’m going to cut the grass, and I don’t give a fuck that it’s 7:30 A.M. on a Wednesday. I figure the neighbors are probably up to go to work, but I can’t say for sure, as I don’t know a damn thing about them. Lucas’s door was still shut when I walked out here, and Simone was sound asleep on the couch. If it wakes them up, what the fuck ever. I need something constructive to do, and pulling Simone into my room with the chance Lucas could be walking by is not a good idea.