Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
There’s no way not to care after seeing her react to everything that took place in that grimy, grungy trailer. Learning her aunt was dead and that the woman wasn’t her aunt at all. And this on the heels of Nathaniel and the whorehouse. How long until she shatters?
How is that any of my concern? Of all the times for me to grow a sense of empathy.
“I’m all alone. I mean, I was before, too. But there was always knowing she was there. I could go back to her if I needed to; if things were so bad that I didn’t have any other option. Now I have nobody at all.”
“You’re young.” What a lame fucking thing to say. It’s better than blurting out something stupid like offering to be the support she needs. That would be a true mistake.
“What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I get to have friends and family like everybody else? Don’t I deserve that? Why am I always alone?”
“It could be a strength,” I point out. “When you don’t need people, you can’t be hurt by them.”
“There’s always a way to be hurt by people. They always find a way to surprise you.”
It seems unfair for someone so young to be this deeply wounded. “But you’re free now, too. No ties, nothing weighing you down. You can start fresh and be whoever you want to be.”
I don’t know what I expect in response to that. I know better than to think she’ll be excited, not in her mood.
But tears? Not happy ones, either. She covers her face, shaking hard enough to shift the mattress under us. “That’s a lot,” she manages. “I’ve never been free.”
“Now you will be. This is a good thing. You can work to forget all this past shit weighing you down. You’re better than that, anyway.”
“Since when?”
I can’t pretend I don’t understand what she means. “You deserve better than what you’ve gotten so far. That’s the truth.”
“You’re the only person who’s ever felt that way. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what to do. It’s too much, all at once. How am I supposed to sleep when I have to start making every decision in my whole life for myself? I’ve never been able to do that. And before you woke up…”
She lowers her hands with a shuddering sigh. “I’m ashamed to admit this, but I sort of wished things could go back to the way they were. At least then, I knew what was happening. I knew how to handle things.”
“You don’t want that, really.”
“Easy for you to say.”
There has to be a way to get her through this. Yet I can’t help but ask myself, why do I care? It might be as simple as wanting to get some sleep without the question of whether she’ll decide to off herself weighing on my mind, or it could be something else altogether.
“Follow me.” I’ve made up my mind. Climbing out of bed, I pull her along with me.
“What are you doing?” She knows better than to try to fight as I lead her across the room and into the bathroom.
“Helping you relax.” I run the shower before peeling off my shorts. “Come on. A hot shower will ease the tension.” I have more in mind than that, but the shower is a start. She doesn’t hesitate long before pulling Celia’s nightshirt over her head, then dropping her panties.
Hunger stirs deep inside, and my cock twitches at the sight of her body as she steps under the steamy spray. By the time water begins running over and dripping from her luscious tits, I’m left battling between the desire to protect and comfort her and the desire to slam into her until we both collapse from exhaustion.
Instead, I soap up a mesh sponge and begin working it over her shoulders and arms. She closes her eyes, tipping her head back so the water runs over her hair and plasters it against her. I can’t help but stare, transfixed, almost jealous of the beads tracing lines over her skin even though my hands are on her. Spreading suds, sliding over her firm, creamy ass cheeks, her flat stomach and full tits.
That’s where I focus my attention, turning her in place and ditching the sponge in favor of using my hands.
“Mm… that’s nice…” she whispers, the sound echoing in the stall. She leans against my chest, letting her head fall back onto my shoulder.
“Let go of everything,” I croon in her ear while my hands travel in slow circles over her tits. Her nipples have tightened into peaks that practically beg to be stroked by my thumbs. She gasps when I do it, so I do it again, and again. Until she begins to whimper.
My lips find her throat, and I run them over the expanse of skin, my tongue darting out to lap at her.