Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
His command forms moisture between my legs, but I do exactly as he asks. Opening my mouth wide, I crawl up on my knees to get a better angle so that I can take all of him.
His hand grips my hair, and he guides my head down and then tugs me back up. We repeat this action several times with his moans growing in intensity with each time. I drag my tongue along his flesh and love the power that I have. I’m giving him pleasure and I know it. I love it. I love the control.
I realize I can tighten my lips and he groans. I can go deeper into the back of my throat and his hips buck. His actions are the result of mine. I’m finally feeling like a wife who can please my husband.
“Ember,” I hear Papa Rich call from the tunnel.
He doesn’t usually give warning, but thank goodness he is. I jump up and when I see that Christopher isn’t moving in the slightest to pull his pants back on, I panic. He’s going to push Papa’s buttons. I can see it in his eyes.
“Please,” I beg, tugging his pants up the best I can.
Christopher sighs, rolls his eyes, but pulls up his pants right as Papa Rich enters from the tunnel.
He stops and looks at me, then Christopher with that suspicious eye I know of his. “Christopher, it’s nice to see you look as if you’re getting comfortable in your new home.”
Christopher smirks and remains leaned back on the mattress. “Very.”
Papa Rich looks at me and I know my face must be several shades of red. “And are the two of you getting along good?”
“Extremely,” Christopher says with a twinkle in his eye.
I see Papa’s jaw tighten and his eyes narrow.
I hold my breath. I don’t want Papa to think we’re sinners and feel we have to pay penance for our actions. Christopher doesn’t seem concerned at all. His hardness is still very visible beneath his pants, and I wonder if tossing a blanket over him will be too obvious.
“I’m running into town,” he says to me as he clears his throat. “I saw your usual grocery list on the fridge. Is there anything else you need?”
“Yes, actually.” I say softly. “Is it possible to pick up a razor for Christopher? In case he wants to shave his beard.”
I figure that Christopher should have the option, and I know that him borrowing anything from Papa was out of the question and even angered him. At least this way, he will have something of his own.
Papa Rich nods. “Anything else?” He actually looks at Christopher and waits for him to answer.
“Yeah. How about a bottle of Jack?” Christopher says with a cocky grin.
Papa surprises me when he says, “I don’t see why not. I’ll add it to the list.”
I see the cocky look on Christopher’s face disappear and something unfamiliar takes its place. He’s angry. He knows Papa is playing his game right back. Two men who have fury bubbling up inside but neither will show it.
“Sugar,” I add, hating the tension in the room. “I’ll make us a cake.”
Papa nods again and then goes back into the tunnel.
“You drink?” I ask, knowing Papa Rich rarely did.
He shrugs. “I used to drink a lot. Maybe too much.” He chuckles. “This place has been the worst detox known to man.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why too much?”
“Life,” he says almost sadly. “In some crazy way, being here made me realize that I was in some sort of prison of my own in New York. I think I was self-medicating.”
“Booze is a medicine?” I know I’m sheltered from all the things in the outside world, but I have never heard of alcohol being medicinal.
“Just a saying. But it did seem to make me function better. Pills and whisky were my go to.” He looks at me. “Like I said though, this place broke me of that habit cold turkey.”
“Do you miss it?”
“No.” Christopher hops off the bed and walks to the window, jerking me alongside him. “How often does he go to town in the winter?”
“Not as often,” I say.
“How long is he gone when he does?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure. A couple of hours with good weather, but the snow slows him down.”
Christopher’s face lights up and he looks at me. “He’s gone for hours?”
I nod. I know what he’s thinking. What he’s hoping.
He’s wrong.
There’s no way out of here.
There’s no way.
“Is there any other vehicle here? Another ranger truck? Anything?”
I shake my head.
Christopher stares out the window waiting for Papa Rich to leave. The glass fogs up with our breaths, and he wipes at the glass for a better view. “What about the ranger’s office? A phone? There has to be a phone.”
“Papa has a radio, and he takes it with him. I told you this. No phone. No way out.”