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Chapter 4
Bryce
I open the door to our house and see Alana fluttering around the kitchen, preparing supper. “Smells good, babe.” I bought this house years ago when I first moved here, but when I ended up going to Edmonton, after meeting Alana, I put the place up for rent. Only evicting the tenants, who kept the place in perfect order, when we decided to move to Calgary.
She turns around, smiling brightly at me. “Homemade lasagna, with garlic bread. Minus the cottage cheese, because I know how much you hate that it,” she tells me.
I smile at her, pulling her close, kissing her nose. “You’re amazing, babe.”
“I try.” She winks at me and goes back to the stove. “It will be ready in about twenty minutes, so you go ahead and shower. By the time you are done, it will be on the table,” she tells me.
I kiss her forehead and move to the bathroom and into the shower. My entire shower, I keep flashing back to that girl from earlier with the colorful hair and personality to match. As I am drying off, all I can think about is the way her jeans showed off her ass. My cock is hard and in need of release. Trying to shake my head of her image, I think of bike parts, but instantly I flash back to her perky chest. I go over to the door and poke my head out. Hearing Alana still flitting about in the kitchen. I try to picture her in my mind as I grip my length in my hand. With one hand on the counter and the other stroking my hard cock, I begin to pleasure myself. Alana’s head morphs into that chick’s and I get harder, pumping faster.
I imagine bending her over the counter of my shop and sliding into her. I continue stroking myself, and in my head, I’m telling her what a filthy mouth she has and just what I want to do to it.
When I finish, I feel guilty for fantasizing about the girl from earlier, for masturbating to her image. Fuck! I scrub my hands over my face, hoping when I go down to supper, my guilt won’t be written all over me. My face feels hot as I pull on a pair of shorts and grab a clean shirt.
“How was school today?” I ask her.
“Good, I think I made a new friend. She thought I was a stuck-up bitch though, and tried putting me in my place,” Alana says, sounding put out.
She hates that shit. And it’s true, she might dress the part and look the part, but she’s far from a stuck-up bitch.
“You tell her off?” I grin, knowing she probably didn’t. She’s usually too shy for that.
“Sort of, and then she smirked at me and said to me ‘I think I’m going to like you’ or something like that. It was weird. She’s so pretty though, Bryce, she’s perfect, short but perfect in every way. I think I might try and talk her into modeling some of the new lingerie I’m making for my shop,” Alana says, sounding excited.
I dig into my food and listen as she tells me about her classes and her professors. I’m glad she had a good day.
After supper, we’re sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels.
“I asked my dad about seeing if he would invest in your shop, but he keeps saying that it’s something you need to do for yourself. I’m sorry, Bryce,” she tells me. Considering he is going to help her invest in her own shop, I call bullshit on that. The deal was she went to college to learn all she can about business, and he’d help her out.
I pull her close to me. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t even know you asked him. So, it doesn’t matter. I’ll figure something out.” One thing I don’t want, and never wanted, was a handout from her father. We already catch shit talkers saying I’m only with Alana for her money, and that’s not even close to the truth.
I don’t ask anyone for a damn thing. I try to earn my way. It may take me longer than others, but I will get where I want to be by working for it. I hate that she even asked, pissed actually. I’ve told her time and time again, I didn’t want her father’s money. But I let it go, not wanting to start a huge fight before bed.
Kristi
I wake up to the sound of my sister giggling. I groan as I roll over in bed. Checking the time, I realize I’m going to be late for my shift at the grocery store. Forcing myself to get out of bed, I crawl from underneath the warmth of my Monster High blankets. Emma must hear me waking up because she peeks her head into my room and narrows her eyes at my bed.
“Really?” she asks amused.
I smirk at her. “Yup.”
She makes a really face. “But those are kid blankets.”
“Guilty pleasure,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
She stands in the room, arms crossed. “If you ever want to bring a guy here for sex, you might want to rethink that bedding.”
I sigh, shutting my dresser drawer after taking out a blue tank top. “That’s not going to happen. I don’t have time for that stuff right now.” And I don’t, after the pregnancy scare I had a year ago, after a one-night stand, I’ve avoided guys.
“You keep saying that, but really, last night when we were watching Magic Mike, you were totally getting a lady boner. What with your shrieking and panting,” she says, grinning at me.
“That’s a movie, it’s not real. I have time for fake stuff. Besides, Channing Tatum and Matt Bomer, together in one movie? I’ll gladly dedicate my life to watching those two while using my vibrator any day over getting into a relationship,” I say, walking passed her into the living room.
Her nose scrunches as her lips screw into a pout. “That was a really gross visual.”
