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Touch me.
Here. Where you are looking.
Not with your eyes this time.
I’m sure he wants to tell me to go upstairs and put on a bra, but that’s not his way. Somehow, with a look, Lucy and I know when we have done something well or something wrong.
Except for right now, I have no idea. I can’t read the look on his face and it’s making my head feel spinny.
A string of tension sings between us, flames flickering around my feet, my rapid pulse ticking in my neck as he takes an uneasy breath.
“Lala!” Mama barks, calling me her pet name when I’m lost in la la land.
“Jesus,fuck, what?” I clear my throat, tearing my eyes from Papa as Lucy stands from her chair, her bowl empty.
“Don’t curse.” Mama points her spoon my way. “You clean up your grandfather’s dishes. Lucy and I are going to settle our dispute on the centerpieces. A decision needs to be made today so the florist can fly in the flowers and deliver them on time. Oh,” she rolls her eyes, sinking her spoon into the bit of soup left in her bowl, then finishes, “Mort left a note on the door about the reindeer pooping on his property again.”
Mort’s our less than friendly shotgun wielding recluse of a neighbor. He’s nearly half a mile away, but he’s the closest neighboring human to Grandpa’s property.
He hates Papa and his big mansion and his ‘for-een’ accent, but he hates the reindeer more; and somehow, they repay his hatred by sneaking over to his place and leaving him little gifts now and then.
Mama turns my way as she pushes at the door. “You take care of your papa, yes?”
I nod. “Yes.” I stutter, barely able to breathe.
Visions of crawling under the table and taking care of more than his dishes sends heat prickling up my legs and over my chest, as the crotch of my jeans soaks through.
CHAPTER3
Gennero
The idea of loving someone the way I love Carina was never in my plans.
No matter who was around me, I’ve been alone all my life. I enjoyed my fair share of company in my youth, but the demands were never worth the payoff for a man like me.
My time was mine and mine alone. As soon as someone started acting as though they had a say in what I did, when I did it, or how much time I spent with them versus everything else in my life, it was over.
But, not with my granddaughter. If she only knew how I’d cave to her every demand. I wish she would understand that for the first time in my life, I would take a knee in front of another human. Her.
I hear her voice everywhere. In the corners of my workshop. In the hallways. Outside in the whistling wind through the barn. In my fucking sleep.
Papa.
I hear her whisper my name a thousand times a day as I think of her soft, fragile body under me. How her barely-there tits would rasp against my chest, brushing in my chest hair, back and forth as I moved in and out of her while her elegant hands tore at my hair, begging me to stop one second, then in the next, to fuck her into forever.
But, if I give in, forever may be shorter than I think. For the first time in my life, I’m distracted to the point of pain.
Keeping her as mine is dangerous and unfair. But letting her go out into the world someday...it’s impossible. My sanity dangles by a thin thread already. If she was not by my side with her wide eyes and filthy mouth and the way she looks at me like a fucking God...
I wouldn’t last a day.
What if she kissed another man?
Let him touch her?
Would she marry and give her untouched innocence to someone else?
What would I do then? Track down the guy and mail his balls back to her in a box, letting her know the marriage was over?
