Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“Ripe. Fresh. Sweet cherries,” she teases like a brat, and whatever defenses I had crumble.
I’ve never been good with limits. In fact, pushing them is where I excel.
Especially when it’s dangerous.
Chapter Three
Price
This can’t be happening to me. Not right now.
Apart from one drunken night I wouldn’t remember if not for a pretty fucking undeniable piece of evidence, women and I don’t mix. They don’t like me, and that’s fine because I don’t know the first fucking thing about what makes them tick.
But it’s not just women that are the problem, it’s human beings in general. I don’t understand them. I don’t get along with them. I don’t get this need to connect all the time, to constantly seek approval from the rest of the world.
That might seem odd, coming from someone with a YouTube channel that generates a multi-six-figure income, but that was a pure fucking accident. I’ve got something people crave. Living vicariously through someone else.
They want to watch someone else doing the dangerous things.
And they love when I fail. When I smack my face into a rock wall or fall on my ass in the mud.
Give me a rope and a challenge, I know what to do, but put me in a social setting of any kind, I’m a fucking duck on skates.
But this is happening. It’s not a dream.
How do I know?
One, my dick is pressing against the zipper of my pants so hard I’m going to have a permanent impression of the metal teeth along my shaft.
Two, this girl has a smile that could melt the polar ice caps, and I can’t help the feeling that I need to make that smile part of my life.
And three, her round face and that left dimple are life changing. I want to start at her lips and lick my way down to what has to be the pussy to end all pussies.
What the hell is happening to me?
When I walked into Earl’s, my intention was to blow off some steam. Have a couple beers—alone—and settle into the idea that my high adventure days are over. I’m now the director of an adventure camp in the western upper peninsula of Michigan, raising my daughter as a single father.
I haven’t had a night away from Hailey in six months. As much as every minute with her is better than any minute I lived before her, she’s a handful.
Yesterday, she plugged the toilet in our cabin with pinecones, telling me she was doing an experiment on the density of the different varieties and wanted to see which one would sink first.
She’s six, for fuck sake. How I’m ever going to live through puberty with her I’m not sure. But one day at a time.
She’s with my best friend Ted tonight, who got me in on the camp partnership and has known Hailey since those first days when her mom, Lainy, dropped the bomb on me that my one-night stand made me a father. She took her fucking time telling me, three years fucking years I missed out on, and if she hadn’t been battling cancer, I may have never known I had a daughter.
So, my plate is more than full, and I wasn’t looking for a hook-up tonight. More people in my life is not what this guy needs. Especially women.
My own fist has served me well all these years, and I don’t see any reason to change that. It doesn’t talk back or expect conversation or after glow.
But then I saw her sitting on that bar stool, looking like a fucking Daisy Duke wet dream, throwing back shots with a guy who didn’t deserve to be in the same state as a perfect ten like her. She’s boner-inducing dynamite in a petite curvy package that has my balls ready to unload right here.
Now, she’s talking about cherries. And that she’s never used a condom. Fuck.
I’m in deep, but even with my hard-on trying to take over my brain, I know this can’t happen. Not now.
“What can I get you?” The bartender braces his arms on the counter, looking from me to the dimpled temptation standing barely to my chest.
“I’ll have another one of those whipped cream shots.” She leans over the bar, her tits resting on top, spilling out from where her shirt is open.
“You mean a blowjob?” he says with a smirk, his eyes locking on her cleavage. My instinct is to rip him from behind the bar and stomp on his head until his brains drain out his ears for looking at her like he’d be winning the lottery if she was on her knees in front of him.
Never gonna happen, bub.
I shift forward, resting my hand on her shoulder as she looks up at me, her cheeks all flushed and those mesmerizing brown doe eyes just asking for trouble.