Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 107(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
They won’t last any longer than that. If Travis and Alicia were here, that pan would already be demolished.
“Will do.” He grabs a napkin. “What are we watching?”
“That new Korean zombie movie?”
“Let’s do it.”
It’s become routine for us to wind down on the couch. Usually that’s early in the morning, after spending the night in a patrol car. Then I sleep away most of the day and get up late in the afternoon.
I’m not always sure what Brandon does each day, though I know he keeps busy. Since he’s been living here, a bunch of little things around the house and farm have gotten fixed. Like Alicia had ordered a replacement burner for our range about a year ago, but neither one of us had taken the time to install it yet—until the other day, I realized that burner worked again. The windows of this old house have been resealed, the dripping faucet in the downstairs bathroom no longer drips, a wobbly board on the front porch steps was replaced, and the ancient tractor stored in the barn is shining again. But that’s just what I’ve noticed. I’m pretty sure there are other things he’s repaired without saying a word to tell us what he did.
Which reminds me. “Did you do something to my pickup? Because it seems to be running smoother. And it doesn’t do that wah-wah thing when I start it anymore.”
“Maybe.” With a heavy sigh of satisfaction, he settles into his corner of the sofa and stretches his legs out.
“Do I owe you anything?”
That apparently doesn’t even deign a response. He just thumbs the remote, scrolling through the menu onscreen.
“Thank you,” I tell him, claiming my own seat—sideways at the other end of the couch, tucking my toes under his thigh like I always do.
This time he grunts and shrugs in reply, like him fixing my truck was nothing special. “This one?”
The movie. “Yep.”
He selects the show, puts the remote aside, and starts in on the cinnamon rolls. In the darkened living room, the flashing glow from the screen lights his profile in varying colors. I should be watching, because I need to read the subtitles to understand what’s going on, but I also really like watching Brandon Ranger.
I can’t believe how content I am. Alicia and I used to do this sometimes, but our schedules didn’t mesh very often, and she prefers to wind down with a book. Plus our tastes don’t match all the time. There are some things we agree on—we both enjoy action movies—but I’d rather poke out my eyes than watch a romantic comedy. She’s not a fan of horror. And I don’t have the patience for the slow, unfolding drama in some of the shows that she likes. I’ll watch one or two episodes and then read the plot summaries for the rest of the season on Wikipedia.
Still, we made an effort to spend time together. And I know we’ll continue making that effort now that she’s living in town, but it won’t be the same. I don’t regret or resent her going. I’m thrilled that she’s so happy with Ranger. But I’ll admit, I was a little worried that I’d be lonely out here after she was gone. Enough to start thinking about getting a dog or a goat or a fish.
Instead I have a bear. And it hasn’t been lonely with Brandon here. I might even be happier than I’ve ever been.
I just don’t want to mess that up.
One after the other, he tucks away the cinnamon rolls while people run and scream onscreen. Done, he sets his plate aside and settles deeper into the couch, drawing my feet up onto his lap like usual.
And like usual, my pussy is going at full burn. I desperately try to pay attention to the movie. Except this time, knowing that he knows just makes the need worse. Then it trips through my head—I’m always hard, he’d said—so I steal a glance. Though the angle’s bad and my feet are obstructing part of the view, I’m pretty damn sure he is. Which means we’re sitting here with a hot dripping cunt and a rock hard cock and we both know it. We’re both pretending to ignore it. And I don’t think either one of us has any fucking clue what’s happening in the movie.
All I can think of is Brandon. About how he’d only have to look at me right now, and despite my firm intention to stay friends, I’d whip open my thighs so fast that I’d probably need hip replacement surgery.
But I know he won’t look. I know he won’t kiss his way up my leg toward the pussy that’s so hot and slick for him and have a taste. Because he promised to wait for my mouth to give the invitation.