AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I never wear red lipstick, but I like the way it looks. I like the way I feel wearing it right now.
I think I’ll keep it.
Satisfaction washes over me as I drop the cheap lipstick I was accused of stealing right into my purse. Deepens as I start my car and back out, knowing I’m heading to Milo’s house, and knowing how fucking mad my mom would be if she knew.
Chapter three
Milo
When Jonathan told me this morning he thought there was something going on between Jet and Kennedy, I didn’t believe him.
It seemed downright fucking absurd, in fact. I love my youngest son, but if it weren’t for the strength of my genes causing him to physically resemble me, I’d be tempted to question whether or not he’s even mine. We couldn’t be less alike, and there’s no way in hell a woman could be attracted to meandhim.
I stand by that, but I can’t deny the way he lit up when her car pulled in the drive tonight. The way she looked with her long curly hair a wild, unruly mess and her lips painted red. She looked like she’d just been fucked, but she was ready to go again.
I like it, but also,I don’t fucking like it.
I’d like it if she looked like that because she was coming over to seeme, but my son? Nope, don’t like that one fucking bit.
I suppose it makes sense. They’re the same age. That’s why her lovely little tits are so pert, her ass so tight, her skin so fucking soft that I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes certain I can still feel it on my fingertips.
I knew it was fucking mental to go after her, especially when I only knew her because I’d gone out with her mom a couple of times. I onlykeptseeing her mom because it meant spending time with Kennedy, and her mom was happy to keep seeing me because I paid for everything. And I mean everything. She thought she was so slick whining and complaining about her utility bill being past due and they were going to shut off the power. I handed over the money without complaint, but not because the thought of Tracey sweating her ass off in the summer heat bothered me.
It was Kennedy. Lovely, beautiful, fucking mouthwatering Kennedy. I wanted her tits in my mouth and her ass cradling my dick, but in the meantime I wanted her to be comfortable, so I made sure she was.
Well, as comfortable as she could be living with that woman, anyway.
Now, she’s at my house in her ripped black jeans and her cranberry sweater, her hair wild and free and her lips painted red, and all I can think about is the candy apple ring they would leave around my cock if I could get her alone somehow.
It’s a little more sordid now that my son might have a crush on her, but I’ll upgrade his fucking robotics lab or something, make up for stealing his girlfriend. Jet wouldn’t know what to do with Kennedy, anyway.
I got a taste of her, and it made me want more.
I want to taste her free from the constraints of guilt. I knew she felt bad encroaching on territory she thought of as belonging to someone else, but I’m no one else’s territory, and damn sure not her lush mother’s.
Jet is busy fine-tuning some solar-powered robot he’s working on. I think it’s for school, but it could be just for fun. I don’t think Kennedy gives a single fuck about robotics, but she curls up on the floor with him and listens patiently as he explains things while he works. She leafs through his instruction booklet and consults the blueprint like she’s helping, but I don’t think she’s contributed a single thing.
After a while, she grows bored of the tinkering and goes over to lie on the couch. Her long curly hair spills over the side and she makes a lovely silhouette as she lies there with one knee bent, a swatch of her stomach exposed, and her head turned so she can watch Jet work while she tells him about some pop star she admires.
She’s so fucking young.Toofucking young. I know it logically. It’s reason enough to leave her alone even if Jet didn’t like her, but I know myself well enough to know neither of those things will stop me.
I’ve never been shy about taking things I want, but I’ve never had to take from my own flesh and blood, either.
I had her first, but Jet doesn’t know that.
“Kennedy.”
Her gaze shoots to me at the sound of her name and she sits up, her body tentative as she remains on the couch, but one summons from abandoning it. “Yeah?”
“Come in here.”
I don’t tell her why and she doesn’t ask, just rises from the couch and saunters into the kitchen.
I’m standing at the counter, so she comes over and leans a hip on the counter a couple of feet away. “What do you need?”
“You want to help me with dinner?”
The invitation surprises her, but she nods her head. “Sure.” She glances at the empty countertop, then back at me. “What are we making?”
