AllFreeNovel
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We pause and stare. Outside a wind whips up the snow and aims it at the window, but the warmth inside causes it to steam and become a mirror that just shines the inside back at us until there is only the inside.
Only us.
A winter’s night with a woman made for pleasing, loving.
Anything could happen.
I feel my phone buzz and I check it, guessing correctly that it’s Fiona.
“Fiona’s definitely staying out tonight,” I say, voice husky. “She says you’re – quote – more than mother-thumping welcome to get your ass down here and then top-and-tail me as Jess’s house.”
“Hmm.” Her tongue runs over her lips … and then, in my mind, around the tip of my manhood, and then her lips open and I’m inside of her, pumping, her eyes wide as they gaze up at me, silently begging for more. “I don’t know if I want to, to be honest. I’m not much of a party girl. That’s more Fiona’s … Oh, God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”
That’s right.
Because Fiona’s my daughter and she’s her best friend and this is all a malformed mess.
I’m starting not to care, though.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “This isn’t the first time Fiona’s stayed out late. But at least it gives us an opportunity, eh?”
“To do what?” she asks, voice breathy with possibility.
To fuck. To put our first child inside your womb. To claim you and own you and mark you with my seed so that every other predator in this savage world can know who you belong to.
“To drive,” I say.
“To drive?” she repeats. “Where are we driving to, Saul?”
I smirk. “Downstairs.”
“What?”Chapter NineSadieI stare in awe as the overhead lights blink on, one by one as though for maximum effect.
The basement is a warehouse-sized room, stretching from what must be one side of the estate to the other, the racetrack laid out in a looping circuit that returns to itself via a bridge. At the side, the Go-Karts are lined up, painted in similar colors and patterns to Saul’s Formula One cars upstairs.
“Now you’re just showing off,” I giggle.
He turns to me with his characteristic smirk, looking somehow more primal in his shorts and T-shirt. His muscles on display and they’re so tight and honed I have to keep reminding myself not to stare.
I remember how he took my hand in the bedroom, just casually reached across and took it. And then held it – about a million lightning bolts shattering in the contact – and we both just silently agreed not to address it.
It’s like we both somehow know that if we were to address this – whatever this is - than we’d have to address Fiona, and what this means for her.
I try to tell myself I’m getting ahead of everything.
Maybe this is still nothing.
But he leaned toward me in the kitchen, didn’t he?
And he did hold my hand. There’s no question about that.
“Maybe I’m showing off a little,” he agrees, smirk twitching. “What’d you think, though? See if you’re as much of a Sparkplug on the track.”
“Are they electric?”
“Yes, why?”
“I don’t think I’d be able to handle the real thing,” I admit.
“They’re safe,” he says, and then pauses to consider, tapping his chin in an over the top way that makes me fill the room with dorky laughter. “Well, safe-ish.”
“Great, you’re really filling me with confidence,” I mutter dryly.
I’m still in my tank top and shorts, my bra all tangled from where I hastily pulled it on.
His eyes locked on me as I adjusted it on the way here.
Fine, maybe I did it on purpose.
Maybe I’m playing the same game like he is if he’s playing one if this isn’t all some invented ploy.
We’re both basically half-dressed, no buttons to fumble with, no clasps or zips, nothing to get in the way if we fall upon each other, hands exploring.
Then what, Sadie? Do you really think you’ll be able to please this man? You better hope you’re wrong. Because the second he touches you, really touches you, he’ll realize just how inexperienced you are.
Anxiety lances up my spine.
“Let’s find you a ride,” he says.
Together we move to the Go-Karts, walking shoulder to shoulder, or more like arm and shoulder, almost touching.
I try to picture Fiona out with her hometown friends.
I try to make rise some anger toward her, as though that will justify this blazing madness that won’t sputter out inside of me. I tell myself it’s not fair, how she left me here, how she abandoned me when we’re supposed to be besties.
But of course, that’s just juvenile nonsense. She invited me and I declined and this isn’t first freaking grade. We’re allowed to have other friends.
The truth is there’s no excuse.
“What do you think?” he asks, as we walk up and down in front of the Go-Karts.
