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I was so angry, so jealous, I went and spread my legs for Kevin, offering him my pussy on a grassy platter.
Fucking Kevin, for Christ’s sake.
I fall apart at that.
What has my life come to? I’m a cam-girl, of all things. A cam-girl who fucked herself while fantasizing about her stepfather railing her instead of the dildo.
I’m losing it.
My stomach cramps with the force of my laughter, and I double over, wheezing and wiping at my wet cheeks. At this point, I’m not even sure what the tears are from, laughing or the sudden burst of emotion clogging my throat.
It’s not funny. None of this is funny. But I can’t stop.
“Miss Eve. You have to be quiet,” she cries, shaking her head rapidly. “Shh. Please, shh. Don’t tell anyone.” Her eyes continually dart to the closed door, separating us from the empty church, like she’s waiting for Jesus himself to burst through at any moment. If that were the case, I’d be nothing but a bit of ash on the rug from the force of the epic smiting I’m due.
Sucking in a panting breath, I force myself to get it together. I can’t do this here. Not now.
“Sorry,” I gasp with a thick cough, clearing my throat. I wipe my cheeks again. “Sorry, honey. That wasn’t about you.” I grimace from the way my outburst probably looked to this sweet angel.
Her head bobs, her face a mask of worry and nerves.
“And to answer your question,” I continue, squeezing her hand. “There’s always a boy.”
A man.
A stepfather.
A stepbrother, my mind supplies unhelpfully.
She opens her mouth to respond, but a booming voice fills the air, stealing her words from her lungs.
“Clover, time to go!”
She wilts before me, becoming a shell of herself before Ms. Willa has even finished speaking. Clover swallows thickly and nods. She drops her head and turns away from me to finish packing up her backpack. I dart forward, gripping her by her shoulders, and tug her into me.
“Wh—” she starts, but I shake my head, rushing to rebraid her hair. She sucks in a panicked breath, and I try to soothe her.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You’ll go. You’ll be brave. You’ll be resilient. And when things get tough, you’ll think of—”
“The Lord,” she mutters. “I know.”
I huff a laugh, tying the band around the end of her braid. Bending down, I whisper in her ear. “No, honey.” I press a kiss on her cheek. “When things are hard, you’ll think of the boy.”
We all do.
“Oh, come on,” I cry out, pointing an accusing chopstick at the TV screen. “He’s totally fucking Lindsey on the side.”
“I think I love him,” Natalie, the hopeful single, gushes, making me scoff into my broccoli beef. “He’s definitely the one.”
Rolling my eyes, I settle deeper into the couch, preparing to watch this whole shit storm blow up in poor Nat’s face the second she finds out her bestie’s a lying ho.
Lindsey’s eyes widen, but I see it. The guilt. It surprises me, but not nearly as much as her acting skills. “I’m so happy for you, girl. He totally loves you too,” she simpers.
“I thought you were better than that,” I grumble with disappointment. “It’s always the ones you least suspect.”
Sighing, I finish my broccoli beef and swap it out for spicy cashew chicken and steamed rice. The first bite has a loud moan slipping through my lips, but I can’t help it. Golden Bull is my favorite and I only get to indulge in the delicious, savory, carby, MSG overload once every few months, if that. Isaac hates it. He hates it so much he swears he can smell the spicy aroma days after still wafting around the house. In his defense, Mama felt the same.
I huff a laugh, eyeing the massive meal I have spread out across the coffee table. He’d blow a pupil if he saw me right now. Wearing nothing but an old t-shirt I love and a cheeky thong, curled up and eating Chinese food on the couch. Drinking stolen wine straight from the bottle because I’m too lazy to wash dishes on my week off.
