Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 87908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I was shifted from foster home to foster home where I had to learn survival skills even before I could walk. By the age of five I knew how to fight off predators, how to hide at night when the sun went down.
As soon as I could I hit the streets, but even then I always wanted better. Couldn’t see it, but wanted it nonetheless. When I was sixteen it was an old bum who lived under the same bridge I had chosen to call my home for the summer who had taken an interest in my wellbeing.
He was an old army vet who still had connections, or so he said. I didn’t believe shit the old man said. Why would anyone with so-called connections be living under a bridge?
No I just thought he was a lonely old man full of tales. Since he was no threat to me because at that age I was already well on my way to my six-four height, I listened to his tales, thinking nothing of them.
Until one day he brought someone to see me. An old buddy of his who promised to get me into some program or the other if I would enlist when the time came. All I had to do was stay in school and keep out of trouble.
Since the only trouble I ever found was when someone fucked with me that was easy. Even though I was skeptical as fuck at first, I’d gone for it and never looked back.
I did go back once looking for the old man, but neither the recruiter nor I had ever been able to find him again. I’d gone through basic training like I was born for it, surpassing everyone’s expectations. Then again that wasn’t so hard to do, there weren’t that met for the kid who came from the streets.
I’d taken all the pent up rage and shit that I had believed myself long over and honed it into a particular skill. One that may not have gained me much in the way of a career stateside, but there were still plenty who would be willing to pay me top dollar to do what I do. I’d just have to sell my soul first.
Until she came along, I had no real direction. I had enough sense to know I never wanted to be on the streets again so I learned everything I could while I was on their dime and looked ahead. I socked away my pay like a miser, getting by on the bare essentials.
I was never going to be Gates, but I won’t starve. After her, things changed. In the beginning it was because of the little kid I now found myself responsible for. Then later it became something else.
Now she’s the woman I’m going to marry. The one I want my forever after with. Everything was about her now. My sweet little babygirl!
I reached out my hand and touched her hair, trailing my fingers down her cheek as soft as a butterfly’s wings so as not to wake her.
Beyond the hardening of my cock was the irregular beating of my heart; that more than anything told me that I was well and truly gone. It was as if the last two, almost three years hadn’t been, as if time stood still and we were back there under the stars with her gazing up at me with lust reflected in her eyes.
I’d been scared then, but now, now I wanted that and more. I wanted, no needed, to be the man she turned to for everything. I wanted to erase all the hell she’d been through and fill her only with the good.
I wanted her every thought to be of me, to know that no matter what had come before, that she could depend on me. It might take some time, but if it’s the last thing I do, I’d make her want me as much as I now wanted her.
She made a soft sound in her sleep and I eased my fingers away from her skin, not wanting to disturb her rest. Would she wake in terror thinking she was back there at his hands again? The thought had me folding my fists and wishing I’d done more. She looked so fucking perfect lying there, like the most perfect thing ever created.
What the fuck was I doing? Could I really give her everything I’d always wanted for her? Or was I being a selfish prick? That’s one of those questions I keep asking myself. Especially when it’s late at night and I have nothing to keep my mind occupied. Always it reverts back to her, and always, after I’ve convinced myself that I was the only one for her, the questions would start.
I hate my fucking conscience sometimes; shit’s always trying to fuck with my program. But this was my Jessie, my babygirl. When I look at her I know that not even I am good enough for her, she’s so fucking perfect.