Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Ogling wasn’t usually my thing, but the woman had curves I ached to brand with my fingerprints. And that was just the back of her. The front was even more torturous.
Her plump lips as her tongue snaked out to dampen them.
The curve of her delicate collarbone.
Her golden skin flashing from under the hem of her tank top when she’d stretch to paint the top of the wall.
It made me a creeper, but I’d had an entire internal debate on which part of her I wanted to taste first.
Spoiler alert: Her nipples won. Whoever had designed that bra, so damn thin I could see her perfect peaks through her baby-blue tank top, either deserved a national holiday in their honor or to be thrown in prison immediately. I couldn’t decide which.
Fuck me. I tried not to stare. Really, I did. But in a cruel twist of fate, when I closed my eyes, instead of transporting me to my own personal hell, my brain taunted me with memories of her head thrown back in ecstasy as she rode my cock. It was nothing short of a miracle that I’d escaped that restaurant with my zipper still intact.
So I did what I always did: I ran. My feet pounded the pavement, each step echoing like a desperate heartbeat as I raced back to my house. It was my safe space, where I could sift through my thoughts in peace and quiet and then pretend that my world hadn’t been completely upended.
A few weeks earlier, that booth had a forcefield around it. I could block out everything. Waitresses taking orders. Customers chattering. The bell over the door. Cooks clanging utensils in the kitchen. I heard none of it.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block out Gwen.
I’d spent the past week waffling back and forth on how to handle Wednesdays moving forward. My routine was ruined, but the thought of giving up and staying home made my skin crawl. The only other option was to spend yet another evening gawking at my ex-wife. That came with a different set of challenges though. I could not afford the water bill for another week of marathon cold showers.
So between damned if I do and damned if I don’t, I was stuck. No place to go, no way to stay away.
After a long debate, in which I vetoed all commentary from my cock, I decided to give it another shot. Maybe Gwen wouldn’t be working in the same room with me this time. The restaurant wasn’t big, but there were places where she wouldn’t be directly in my line of sight—and thus obsession.
I just needed to be there, destroy myself, pay my penitence, push my rock up the hill, and then come home. Gwen should not have been a factor in that.
Though as I got ready that afternoon, I spent extra time in front of the mirror, trimming my beard and styling my hair. I’d dug through the back of my closet to find my good jeans and a fitted Henley I hadn’t worn in years. I passed on my go-to Chucks in lieu of a pair of black retro motorcycle boots that I didn’t tie in order to keep the look casual, but then I spent an exorbitant amount of time making sure my pants legs settled on top, purposefully messy.
When it was all said and done, even I had to admit I cleaned up pretty nice. And wasn’t that a fucking waste. Delusion was my drug of choice, but this was a lot even for me.
What the hell did I think was going to happen? Gwen would see me looking half decent, forget that I was a master-level headcase, and then fall naked into my lap?
I didn’t even want that.
Actually, I did. Desperately.
But what would have been the point? So I could disappoint her again? Abandon her? Break her?
I was a rat-fucking-bastard for even thinking about it. Neither of us needed an instant replay of the catastrophe that was the end of our marriage. If I was any type of man, I would have left her the hell alone and not bothered her with more of my bullshit.
But in a real-life showing of Jekyll and Hyde, I couldn’t stop myself.
I berated myself as I stood at my front door with my hand on the knob.
I opened it anyway.
I trembled with both anticipation and guilt as I walked down my front steps.
I never slowed as I headed toward the restaurant.
I saw my cowardly reflection in the glass door—my eyes hollow with regret.
Yet, when her innocent gaze lifted to mine, a wave of something I vaguely remembered as happiness washed over me.
I should have kicked my own ass right then and there.
Instead, I walked inside.
To her.
Gwen
“Hey,” I said, wiping my dusty hands on my shorts as I strolled toward the door.