Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 105398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Grabbing my boots, I shoved my .45 into the left one before opening the door. I turned out the light, and walked quietly to the bed. There she was again. In the exact same position. Placing my boots and gun next to the bed for easy access, I stared down at her sleeping form. I couldn’t make much out other than her silhouette, but what I could see took my breath away.
I contemplated how to sleep around her since she was in the middle of the bed, but just decided to get in and shove her over some. Well, maybe not shove.
I eased down beside her and moved her carefully over to the other side of the bed. I laid there stiffly for five or so minutes before finally relaxing enough to reach for the covers. I pulled them over both of us and placed my arms behind my head.
I was nearly asleep when I felt her creeping towards me. I don't think she was awake because she was making the funniest noises. They were somewhere in between whimpers and moans. It didn't take her long before she was straddling me with her head tucked underneath my chin. I left my arms right where they were. This was going to be a long night. At least the noises stopped when she finally settled.
Ember
If I didn't have to piss like a racehorse, I would never move. I was so very comfortable. I knew exactly where I was, too.
Cracking an eye open, I searched the area for a clock. Finally spying it projecting onto the wall across the room, I focused on it until my eyes cleared of some of the bleariness. Ten till four.
Good. I had a reason to come back to bed.
I gently eased off my Gabe bed, and shuffled stiffly to the bathroom. I didn't bother closing the door, because I honestly didn't have the gumption to do anything more than walk straight to the bathroom.
Since I was already up, I popped a pain pill and drank it down with water from the sink. I hope that it kicked in soon because my back was throbbing. With each step I took, tiny sparks of pain would shoot down the length of the cut, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from whimpering.
It took me a few pain-filled minutes, but I was shuffling back to the bed in no time. I contemplated walking around the bed but decided I just might die if I had to walk any further, so I went to the same side where Gabe still was.
I crawled back onto the bed and went back to the same exact position I’d just left. Straddling Gabe with my head tucked under his chin. I wasn't sure if he was awake or not, but didn't want to take anything for granted. I was going to lay on Gabe, because this was the one time I could do it and actually have an excuse.
All the tension left my body, and I fell into a deep sleep once again.
Gabe
She is seriously trying to kill me.
I honestly thought it couldn't get any worse. However, I was mistaken. I’ve spent the last five hours in a light doze, waking every time she moved slightly. At least earlier, her crotch rested over my belly.
This time her crotch was nestled snugly against mine. It took absolutely everything I had to keep my cock from going rock hard.
I thought about the smell of rotting flesh, the sight of a gunshot wound, gray matter leaking out of a blown apart head, and everything else truly disgusting to keep my mind from the party that wanted to happen below my belt.
Fuck me.
I've thought about this for nearly a year. Every time I saw her. If she was in the room, I could pound nails with my dick.
Not that I was good enough for her. I knew that and she knew that.
My step-father made sure to tell me every day that I wasn't good enough. Or smart enough. Or even halfway decent looking. I constantly heard from him that I was a mutt and would never amount to anything.
Apparently, half-Brazilian and half white are considered a mutt to him.
My Brazilian father died when I was twelve of cancer. My mother couldn't afford to work and support us with also paying for medical bills, so she married to make our life better. Little did she know that she was going to turn my life into a living hell all the while thinking she was making everything better. She married for all the wrong reasons. She never loved Patrick. I never once heard her tell him she loved him. He used to say it all the time, but my mom would smile and go about what she was doing. This was what made it so bad for me.
I look a lot like my father. Tall, at two and a half inches over six feet, with a dark tan. Jet-black hair and a muscular build. Not too bulky, but nothing to sneeze at either. I was literally the carbon copy of my dad. I didn't have one ounce of my mom’s features except for her cerulean blue eyes. Which looked totally fucked up with my dark features. Nevertheless, what do I know? He saw in me the reason my mom would never love him like he loved her. Therefore, he took it out on me.
He never hit me, but his words could be as cruel as a whip. I spent seven years living in an emotional hell, and my mom never even knew. I wouldn’t have told her though, and he knew that.
I set out in life to prove that bastard wrong. I kept to myself and tried to make myself invisible. I never spoke unless spoken to; I kept my head on straight, worked thirty hours a week at a local construction company after school and on weekends. I studied my ass off to graduate with honors at sixteen. Then joined the military when I was sixteen. My mom wasn’t too happy about that, but she knew that I was unhappy, and she’d do anything for me.