AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Until that kiss, I barely lived inside my body. I was trapped in my brain, tortured by thoughts, while the rest of me moved around cold as an automaton.
Now I’m living, breathing, walking again, full of impulses and strange new purpose.
I ate a monstrous breakfast when I woke, half a pack of bacon, an omelet, and buttered toast.
I ate right by the window, looking out at the back garden. It’s completely different in the day, dull and unassuming. But to me, it’s always beautiful because I planted every bit of it myself. That garden saved me. I’d burn my whole house down before I’d lose it.
The thought flashes in my head to show it to Remi. As someone who works with her hands, who builds things, I have a feeling she’d appreciate it.
Having her in my house yesterday was…strangely enjoyable. Nobody but my brother has crossed the doorstep in years. The women I fuck are almost exclusively vacationers. I pick them up at the local bar and take them back to their own hotel rooms, when I feel like doing that at all…
I haven’t had the urge in months. Maybe even a year. Time is a thief and a liar—until Remi showed up, I hadn’t realized that Ernie’s been dead for three years. How pathetic is that? My closest friend was the ailing lunatic who happened to live next door.
Fuck, I miss him. Ernie’s mind worked at about ten times the speed of anybody else’s. He talked a mile a minute, a thousand ideas and jokes and connections, leaping from topic to topic too quickly to keep up. He’d hold an entire conversation himself, both sides, doing different voices for each speaker, impressions of the people in our town, politicians, celebrities, characters of his own invention. He inhabited a world six inches in front of his eyeballs, and when he’d come back to me, he’d be panting and sweating, and I’d be laughing so hard my sides hurt.
Remi’s funny. Not like her uncle, but also a little bit like him in the way she talks straight from her brain, telling you things she really shouldn’t.
The thought of Tom Turner up at her house, probably half drunk, sneaking looks at her phenomenal ass, puts me in a dark mood.
Is she helping him work? Swapping hammers?
I never thought I could feel envious of that pickled turnip. God, look how far I’ve sunk.
He won’t even have to beg for her number because he’ll already have it.
He’ll ask her on a date, that’s a given.
Will Remi say yes?
I’d like to think she has better taste, but I’ve seen her clothes.
She’s not coming back to work on my fence for two more days.
I’d drag her out here every damn day, but I want to fuck with her, not bankrupt her. It’ll already take a miracle for her to successfully flip that house.
I bet Tom has lots of good advice for her…
The idea of that mediocre fuck worming his way into her good graces with his construction talents is maddening. Rewiring a socket is probably the only thing in this universe he can do that I can’t.
That, and take her to the beach at noon in July.
Well, guess what—I don’t want to take her to the beach, and I sure as fuck don’t want to rewire her sockets.
What I want to do is string her up in my basement and whip those tiny tits until they’re rosy as apples, and then I want to turn her around and do the same to her ample ass. I want to build her pleasure and pain in layers until she’s sweating and shaking and begging, until the slightest flick of her nipple brings her to tears, and the touch of my tongue against her clit makes her scream my name until her throat is raw.
The thought of Tom-fucking-Turner putting his hands on what I’ve already claimed makes me want to do terrible things.
To him, and maybe to Remi as well for granting him permission to drive downmygoddamn road to see her.
They’re probably alone together right now. The brother’s even lazier than Remi will admit.
Are they playing music? Is Tom making her laugh? How will they celebrate when he gets her lights running?
Only one way to find out.
I slip into my shoes and head out the back door, careful to stay under the trees to avoid the late afternoon sun.
* * *
