Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Sophia was a cuddler.
She’d always been that way.
When she’d sleep over with Clem, Clem would always tease her for her constant need for cuddling. They’d go to sleep in one bed and wake up practically wrapped around each other.
Hell, even when Boston was in a good mood, he would allow Sophia to cuddle up to him on the couch while they all watched a movie on my living room television.
The kids called her Octi because of her ability to wrap them up with any body appendage.
I’d never, not ever, been on the receiving end of that until now.
I’d always been very aware of when I was in bed.
Mostly because I had to.
If my leg so much as crept over to Trista’s side, she’d snap it off with her giant claws and sharp teeth.
Or, more accurately, she would dig those manicured nails of hers into whatever body part it may be and shove it unceremoniously onto my side of the bed.
Then she’d berate me for an hour for ‘waking her up.’
And God forbid she broke a nail while doing it.
Needless to say, I knew for a fact that I slept on my side of the bed—or more importantly, my quarter of the bed that I’d been allotted when I married Trista—when I felt first a hand, then a foot, followed by a torso, slowly creep their way onto my side.
At first, I was going to leave it alone.
Or, at least, try to go back to sleep.
But then that shapely leg made its way up between my own, and I realized a few things.
One, I was doing this with a much younger girl—all of twenty-two years. Two, this girl belonged to my best friend.
And three, which was the most important, I was doing it while practically naked.
Speaking of, how the fuck did she end up out of her blankets and beneath my sheet? All the while I didn’t move an inch from my side of the bed, or feel her moving?
My dick, which I was fairly sure had never gone down since the moment I’d realized that she was going to be at my home, alone, at the same time as me, went rock hard all over again.
I growled and tried to reach down and push that roaming leg away from my now very hard cock, but all I ended up doing was allowing her upper body to come in closer, too.
I couldn’t stop myself from embracing the closeness for a few long seconds, my body sinking into the feeling of having her wrapped around me.
I was so focused on how she felt that at first I didn’t notice her hand moving.
Not until I felt it on the lower part of my abs, one finger lay so close to my waistband that if my dick got any ideas, she’d be touching the head.
I squeezed my ass cheeks and realized that I had to stop this.
Sadly, this wasn’t something I could allow to happen.
At least, that was what I told myself as I slowly moved us both until she was once again on her side of the bed.
She didn’t move or stir, but I did get a glimpse of her bare ass—and I do mean bare—before I hurriedly yanked the blanket up and over her.
I then recovered myself with the sheet and reached down to adjust myself, squeezing my dick roughly and praying that I could make it through the rest of the night.
The answer to my prayer came a few seconds later.
My phone pinged, and I reached over from where I lay to find it on the nightstand, nearly dead.
I winced when I read the words on the screen.
Madden: My kid okay?
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Me: Fine. Body tore that guy’s asshole out, though. He might not be.
Madden: I already called and talked to the people at the hospital about him. His asshole is fine. The meat on the inner thigh is not. He might lose his leg. Serves him right. I wish he’d lost his life.
Me: Police officers aren’t supposed to say that, dear.
Madden: I don’t fucking care anymore.
I didn’t think that he did.
Madden had changed after Jasper had died.
That night, Jasper hadn’t even wanted to be at that concert hall protecting the music guru.
He’d wanted to be at home, at a CrossFit competition, but they’d refused his leave time, and instead put him on superstar detail.
In the end, he’d lost his life.
And Madden had lost his way.
He didn’t see the point in being a police officer anymore, and I had a feeling that soon, he wouldn’t be.
Not because they would fire him or anything, but because he just didn’t have the heart for it any longer.
It’s hard to have faith in an organization that only cares about their own asses, and not the men and women on the street covering them.
Me: I don’t blame you. But don’t do anything stupid.