Page 7 of Kelsey's Keeper


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That had him cursing again under his breath, and he hit the call back immediately.

She picked up before the second ring.

“Hello? Uncle Ma—?”

“Well, that was… I don’t know what that was. You want to, uh, enlighten me?”

“It was totally an accident.”

“Who was that supposed to be for? Why are you sending pics of chick’s… you know whats?”

She giggled. “It’s not just some chick’s pu—thing. Oh, fuck, never mind. It’s not a big deal, okay? My mistake.”

“What do you mean? Do you know this person? Do they know you’re send—”

“Yes, I know them, Max. Very well.”

Holy shit.

“Oh.”

She giggled again, but it wasn’t out of nervousness or bashfulness. Not at all.

What the fuck is going on here?

“Then, uh, who is it?”

She didn’t reply.

“Wait… this isn’t. That isn’t… you, is it?”

Kelsey laughed then, rich mischief in her voice, as she sing-songed her reply. “A girl never tells.”

“Look, I don’t even care. I don’t need to know.”

But that was a damned lie. Which was itself wrong, on several levels.

“No prob! Just a screw-up. Sorry again. See ya, Uncle Max!”

Then he hung up, taking a deep breath, adjusting his still very hard cock in the confines of his jeans.

“The last thing you need to be fucking doing is popping a goddamn Woodrow right now, Max. What the fuck, dude!”

He threw his phone down on the driver’s side seat, running both his hands through his sweaty hair.

She was going to drive him to an early fucking grave.

Then his phone buzzed once more.

For reasons he didn’t understand, he knew he didn’t want to pick up that phone and see what it said. This was so awkward already, all he wanted to do was go inside and have a beer—or ten. And try to forget about what had just happened.

Even if his cock had no intention of doing so anytime soon.

“Get it over with, asshole.”

He plucked the phone from the seat, and read the text.

It was from Kelsey.

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