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Cascading dark brown hair down to her shoulders, and a summer dress that highlights her perfect voluptuousness. Closing my eyes, I picture the way the light fabric of the dress dappled her round and juicy ass, and I can’t stop myself from mentally burying my hands in it, squeezing and palming.
And then – fuck, fuck, I’m rock solid now – I’d smooth my hands down to her hips and pull her toward me, grinding my engorged manhood in between her ass cheeks, making her feel every inch before I lifted the hem of her dress and…
Stop, stop, stop.
I roar the word over and over in my mind.
I’m here to see my daughter if only from afar, to make sure she’s safe and happy, not to lust after her best friend.
I listen as Lena and Kelly being to make their way up the hill, pulling their suitcase behind them. Waiting for the car to drive away, I peer around the edge of the tree again, taking in the sight of my daughter, safe and full of life as I’d wished she would be.
But I can’t stop my gaze from drifting over to her best friend, my eyes locked on the way Kelly’s ass shifts in that summer dress. They’re moving away from me now, but even with the distance, her ass looks delicious, the helm of my manhood grinding against my pants, prompting a surging need to whelm up inside of me.
It isn’t just carnal and hungry though.
Something strange is happening inside of me.
I find myself picturing how Kelly would look sitting up in a hospital bed, her gorgeous chocolate-colored locks all sweaty around her shoulders, a serene smile on her face as she stared down at our child.
Our child.
What the hell am I thinking?
That is an impossible future, and not just because she’s my daughter’s best friend.
Living a life like that would mean reintroducing myself into society. That’s out of the question.
But my mind doesn’t care about that as it races ahead, flooding with thoughts of Kelly, with speculation of how she’d sound when I plunge inside of her, squeezing down on her hips that were made for claiming as much as they were made for childbirth.
And then I think about another man trying it on with her and my insides twist and a feral roar fights to escape me.
Nobody, ever, gets to touch her.
Nobody except for me.
Because she’s mine.
Chapter Three
Kelly
“I knew this would happen.”
I smile over at Lena as she sits on the balcony, her feet resting on the opposite chair with her laptop balanced on her thighs. The sun has only recently risen, but it’s so hot here, I’m finding it difficult to sleep. Plus I’m eager to check out Valetta, the capital city.
She grins over at me, silhouetted by the early-morning sunlight. “I’ll be done in…” She trails off, laughing. “Okay, I don’t know when I’ll be done. You know what I’m like. I can stop, though, if you want?”
I aim a finger at her. “Don’t you dare stop. Because you’re right. Yeah, I do know what you’re like. If you stop now you won’t be able to focus on anything until you’ve written the scene. You’ll end up dream walking into the harbor.”
She holds up her hands. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But I feel so bad. I don’t want to abandon you.”
“Lena, we’ve talked about this about a million times. If you want to write, write. I’m a big girl. I’ll grab some breakfast and then head into the city. It’s so hot, I’ll probably come back at lunchtime. Maybe I’ll see if you’re ready then?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m one hundred percent certain. So no more guilt, kay?”
Her face lights up, the way it has countless times since we were kids. “Kay.”
That’s what we always say.
Kay, instead of okay, stemming from when we were kids and I somehow had a problem pronouncing the word properly.
I head back into my bedroom for a quick shower. I try not to look at my reflection as I walk across the room naked. Looking at myself in the mirror has always been hard, my eyes drawn to my curvy form only for nasty thoughts to populate my mind.
After showering and changing into a fresh dress, I leave our apartment – clean and tidy but nothing fancy – and head through the silent city to the bus stop.
I know that later all the shops and museums will open, but this early, with few people about, Medina really does earn its nickname.
My footsteps echo quietly around me as I walk under the shadows of the two-story buildings, truly feeling like I’m in a Medieval city, my mind filling it with monks and nuns and knights and all manner of historical characters.
I can’t help but let out a few notes, under my breath so as not to disturb the peace, as I wander through the large entranceway – like a castle’s gates, propped open – and head down the hill toward the bus stops at the bottom. If my tourist guide has told me the truth, I should be able to get the first bus to Valetta in about twenty minutes.
