AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I remember reading the phrase, ‘Good boy’ in one sex forum article I stumbled upon in my research. I say the words in my head as I stare at the results of his efforts.
A hand clamps down on top of mine, shattering my viewing pleasure. My heart lurches into my throat as I look up and find Jesse looming in front of me.
“Let us see who you’re–”
I discover two things in the next five seconds. Dad’s moonshine hasn’t sedated me as much as I thought, and I apparently know more about football than I realized.
Springing from my chair, nothing on this planet will get me to release the vice grip on my phone, no matter how hard Jesse tries to pry it from my fingers. A loud, guttural sound slides out of my throat as we scuffle. He might as well be trying to rip Cam from my memory, given the way I react. I am blinded, completely blinded by rage, fear, and protectiveness. It’s the only explanation for how I tackle him, my shoulder acting like a battering ram to his chest.
The force launches us off the porch. We’re airborne for a split second before we crash onto Mom’s flower bed. My landing pad ceases his maniacal laughing when I land on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. My phone goes flying into the yard.
There’s squawking and shrieking behind us. I even think I catch Miranda cheering me on. There’s a broken rose bush, stabbing me through my jeans. Jesse racks out a cough, pushing at my chest. He’s a man down, but his need to breathe and live another day is low on my priority list as I scramble over the top of him. My knee lands in his nuts. My foot in his face.
“Jesus, Pete! Watch it!” he grouses.
Both probably hurt but were accidental. He’ll survive. Idiots always survive. Bear crawling on all fours through the damp grass, I breathe a sigh of relief when my property is back in my possession. He’s safe—Cam is safe.
“Boys!” Mom scolds.
“Knock it off, you’re scaring your mother,” Dad warns, but like a true farmer adds, “If you’ve got that much energy, you could have finished off that last row of Jonagolds.”
“Oh, my roses,” Mom laments over my sister’s laughter.
Rolling onto my ass, I slip my phone into my shirt pocket and survey the damage. Dad is still sitting in his chair, shaking his head as he stares out at the orchard, unfazed. Bethany is clinging to a porch post, scrutinizing Jesse’s dramatic efforts to de-rosebush himself.
“Why did you do that, Uncle Jesse? You’re not supposed to take other people’s things.”
“He tackled me! You’re not supposed to tackle people either.” Groaning, he starts getting to his feet. “Ugh. I think you cracked a rib.”
“I want ice cream,” Bradley moans, sleepily, followed by a heavy sigh from Craig.
“Great. Look who’s awake now,” he laments.
I have officially had enough of moonshine-on-the-porch. It occurs to me that before I lost my mind, I was staring at the most intimate picture I’ve ever seen. Judging by my family’s reactions, they didn’t see it. Miranda and Craig are rounding up the kids to head home. Dad lets out a yawn and starts gathering up his and Mom’s glasses. Jesse, the damn baby, looks disgruntled that Mom is paying more attention to her roses than him.
Getting to my feet, I make my way up the stairs. “Sorry about your roses,” I offer to my mother as I give Bethany’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Peter are you alright?” she calls, worriedly.
Pinching my eyes closed, I wait impatiently for Craig and Miranda to move out of the doorway. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Him? What about me? He could have crushed me or collapsed one of my lungs with a hit like that!”
Rolling my eyes at Jesse’s dramatics, I make my way inside the house and head for the stairs. No one followed, so I give into the urge to pull my phone out again.
The image is still there. It’s real. I didn’t imagine that perfect ass that’s concealing half of my gift inside of it. The entire ordeal is too great a depiction of my need to control and his need to be controlled. I sent a toy, and he diligently used it. I know I’m not the reason he’s using it, but the fantasy follows me all the way up the stairs.
ME: Did you come?
I’m done giving a damn about how bold the things are that come out of my mouth. The fog is real and thicker than ever. It took everything inside of me not to find him at work this week, just to catch a glimpse of his face. I can’t say how bitter I feel that he didn’t find me like before. I shouldn’t be bitter. I should be happy that he listened to my advice and acted sensibly. Knowing he’s preparing his body for someone else, though, doesn’t just make me feel used. It feels like a loss of significant proportions.
CAM: No, but I’m close.
Stopping on the landing, I absorb his confession. He’s still at it. He texted me while he was at it. Maybe it’s just his innocence, his misguided trust in me, or his lack of filter that has him sharing that fact, but the charge of heat that engulfs my lower half doesn’t give a damn why. I’m basically in his room with him. As close as I’ll ever be again.
ME: Wait
I text in a rush, booking it down the hallway. And just in case that wasn’t clear enough, I shoot off another.
