Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 68(@200wpm)___ 55(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
“Raised? How old is he?”
“Thirty-three,” I reply. There’s no point in lying to her. She’s a human lie detector.
“Oh, Belle. That’s old.”
“No, it’s not, Mama. He’s perfect. I love him,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t think I’m crazy. I don’t think she will since she fell in love with Papa when she was seven years old or something like that. She waited for him, and he waited for her. My aunt and uncle are the same way.
“Ah, well, there’s that. Our family, well, when we fall in love, we fall hard and fast.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that. I’ve got to get back to work, and then I’m going to his place. It’s in New Orleans,” I tell her.
“You say that like it’s a million miles away. It’s only an hour-ish.”
“I know. I’ve got to get some clothes for tomorrow.”
“Invite your guy over to dinner Sunday. His sister’s too. I’ll get Jason and Daniel to come as well.”
“I will, Mama. Thank you for being so cool about this.”
“Belle, you’re nineteen. I can’t tell you what to do anymore, not that I ever really did. You’ve always been your own person.”
“Still,” I say, standing. I lean down, kiss her cheek, and then bound up the stairs to the bedroom I’ve had since I was born. The house is next door to both sets of grandparents and across the street from my aunt and uncle. I pack a small overnight bag and toiletries before returning to the office again. As I’m driving, I can’t help thinking that my brother Jason would be perfect for Tasha.
After work, I drive to Kent’s house, stopping at the grocery store on the way. It’s so cute, and I love that his sisters still live with him. Marla is the only one home when I get there. She helps me bring in the groceries and put them away. I immediately start baking a cake for dessert after getting the steaks in my super secret marinade.
“What grade are you in?” I ask as we prep a salad.
“I’m almost done with tenth grade. Just three days left, then summer vacation.”
“Got any plans?”
“Nope. My seventeenth birthday is next week, but otherwise, I’m a homebody. I hate being in the car, so road trips are out. I’d probably have a heart attack.” Last night, Kent told me about what happened to his parents and Marla before we fell asleep. I reach out for her hand and pat it.
“Oh, we’re going to find something amazing to do this summer, don’t worry.”
“You know you don’t have to be nice to us, don’t you? Kent is… smitten with you.”
“Smitten?” I laugh. “I know I don’t have to be nice to you, but I want to be. We’re going to be friends. I don’t have many, do you?”
“No. No one wants to be friends with the scarred freak,” she says, gesturing to the long jagged scar covering the left side of her face and neck. Whatever got her in that car really did a number on her. Kent said it covered most of the left side of her body at one point. \
“Sure, you have scars, but you’re not a freak. Don’t you be talking about my friend like that,” I tell her, and she starts laughing.
“You’re funny, Belle. Be that as it may, I don’t have any friends other than my brother and sisters.”
“Now, you’ve got me. My mom’s gonna love you. I’ve got brothers and a bunch of cousins. You’re going to have so many friends you won’t know what to do first.”
“I don’t remember what my mom sounded like,” she admits, and I feel for her.
“I’m so sorry, Marla.”
“It’s okay,” she says, using her fingers to dash away tears. “So tell me about dinners at your house.”
Later that night, I’m getting ready for bed, brushing my teeth. Kent comes up behind me and kisses my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Does he know how hot he is? He also happens to be the sweetest man I’ve ever met. Is it any wonder that I love him?
“Do you have any home movies of your parents?” I ask.
“Yeah, on my laptop why?”
“Marla told me she couldn’t remember what your mom sounded like.”
“She never asked. I assumed she didn’t want to relive it.”
“She probably assumed you didn’t either, so she never asked.”
“I’ll take care of it. Thank you for telling me.”
“No problem,” I say as he drags me to his bed.
I’m so, so, so wet for him. The first time he takes me, it’s rough and dirty. I do my best to be quiet, but I know it’s no use. The second time is no quieter. It’s slower and more intense, though. I love when he presses me down on the bed, holding me down while he fucks into me. I also find myself praying when he comes inside me. Praying that we’re making a sweet little baby who we can spoil.