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TWENTY-FOUR
Mom looks undoubtedly hungover, sitting at the island with her shoulders hunched and massaging her temples.
Ignoring her pitiful groans, I continue to the fridge to retrieve the container of pasta salad our cook prepared upon my polite request.
“Hi, Bran,” Mom rasps after sipping her coffee. “Where are you off to?” She squints at me through the strain of light pouring into the kitchen.
“Trying to be motherly?” I sneer. “That’s funny, considering you’re hungover for the twentieth time this month.”
Mom scowls at my remarks and clucks her tongue. “You know very well that’s not true. My drinking isn’t an issue, Brandon.”
“Isn’t it?” I mock. “You woke up at noon.”
Releasing a long, exasperated breath, she hangs her head and murmurs, “It’s like you’re always trying to hurt me.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” I sputter in wonder. “You’ve done enough hurting for all of us combined.”
Her head snaps up, eyes wide.
I stride out of the kitchen before she speaks again.
Dad enters just as I reach the foyer.
“Oh, hey, son.” He places his travel bag on the floor. “How’s it going?”
I nod toward the kitchen and tell him, “Mom needs you.”
A frown distorts his face, showing new wrinkles.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Despite what your mother thinks or might have told you, I’m not having an affair.”
“That’s between you and Mom.” I step past him, going outside to my car.
I’m looking forward to having Kayla to myself again. The more I’m with her, the lighter it feels inside.
It’s been four years since I allowed anyone to touch me upon request. I never thought the day would come, but more and more, I want to feel Kayla against me.
So far, pleasuring her has been while the beast is in charge. If I ever slow us down and take my time with Kayla, I fear the past will interfere, cause me to reject her.
But I was surprised when she held my hand and nothing happened. I stayed calm. Perhaps if I let her do it more, I’ll no longer have bursts of rage.
Kayla struts out of her house like a fucking goddess, curls down, subtle makeup enhancing her gorgeous face, brown skin ever glowing.
The more I regard her appearance, admiring her curve-hugging, thigh-length floral dress, lust mounts, and I want to wheel her back into the house and bury my shaft inside her.
That thought vanishes when Mrs. McNeil peeks out to wave to me. “Hello, Brandon.”
I swallow the lump and wave in return. “How’s it going, Mrs. McNeil.”
Reaching the car, Kayla wags a small paper bag. “Hope you like pastries. I saved two homemade buttery croissants for you.” Before getting in, she flashes a smile that makes my heart thump faster.
I snap out of the trance and slide in behind the wheel.
“Sam messaged me that some kids would be at a private beach later if you’re—”
“No.” I drive away from her house.
Kayla snorts. “Sheesh. So anti-social. Where are we going, anyway?”
