At first thought, a party with my brother and the stray I’m fucking doesn’t sound like much fun. But maybe afterward it’ll turn into a party of two.
I stalk toward her with devilish intent, darkening my gaze so she knows what’s coming.
Seeing her perched on the hood of my truck makes me all kinds of hard and crazy. Especially while she’s wearing one of my flannels, and the top few buttons are undone so I can see down to her bra while she’s hunched over. Her fading blonde hair is brushed over one shoulder in loose waves from sleeping with it in a braid.
She’s sexy as hell. Always has been. She could be wrapped in a carpet and still turn me on. Maybe that’s why it makes me nervous, because I don’t like someone having that much power over me.
I walk toward her grabbing my cordless jigsaw and set it on the hood of the truck beside her. I grip her knees to spread her legs apart which she does so easily like a good little girl. Her need for me turns me on just as much as her rosebud lips. She’s willingly giving me the power in this situation.
One hand smooths the flannel fabric over my chest while the other supports her against the car as she leans her torso back a bit, arching her back so her tits are in the air.
The music changes to the next song as it shuffles through all the music downloaded on my phone. The heavy sounds of “Power Over Me” by Dermot Kennedy fills the space as I give the buttons on the front of the snow pants a sharp jerk, the snaps break contact and I’m pleasantly surprised to see she’s going commando.
As soon as I slide my fingers between her legs, she’s wet for me. A sick satisfaction takes over me. I lower my face closer to hers and deeply inhale her feminine scent before flicking her clit with my index finger. The quick pressure makes her body jerk so I wrap my free arm around the small of her back, tugging her closer. Her breathing becomes erratic, nothing consistent about it aside from the way her breathy moans consistently make my cock stand at attention.
Then I shove two fingers directly into her tight pussy without warning.God, she’s tight.I knew she wasn’t a virgin and I thought maybe she’d be a little…worn out, for lack of a better description. But just like the rest of her, her vagina is just to my liking.
I start pumping my fingers in and out of her, curling them against her inner walls in the process to work her like an instrument. And I’m proficient at playing Mara.
The higher she climbs into the sky, the more flushed she grows. Her cheeks turn pink, her chest reddens a bit, and her lids grow heavy. Reaching out for support, she wraps a shaking hand around my neck as my pace quickens until she’s panting and proactively gyrating in my arms.
Nervous about the intimacy of that gesture, I remove her hand from my neck and flatten her suddenly against the hood of the truck. Her body meets the truck with a bit of athwackbut it doesn’t seem to bother Mara. In fact, it seems like she likes it. I’ve noticed how her eyes darken with need when I’m rough with her, how they practically scream for more.
So I grab the jigsaw, flick the switch to turn it on, and press the butt of the tool (not the sharp end) against her clit so the vibration ripples through her from the center out. All while furiously finger fucking her into oblivion. This, to my surprise and delight, makes her go wild. She lets out a moan of “oh god” and laces her fingers through the roots of her hair.
I know when her breath hitches and her eyes shut that she’s about to come so I press the active jigsaw body harder into her clit right before she erupts. Her body clamps and pulsates around my fingers. A cry that could be mistaken for painful bounces off the walls of the shop in a key that ignites me. When her eyes open they meet my fierce stare. I hold her gaze for a minute and give myself permission to lose myself in her endless hazel abyss. She hesitates before taking another breath like it might kill her.
But my actions might.
I remove my fingers from her pussy and suck them between my lips, cleaning my fingers of her, swallowing her down. Releasing her, she’s star-struck where she sits on the hood. I wave my hand in the air in the universal sign for “wrap it up” so she knows to replace the tarp before she heads back inside. And I go back to my work, pretty proud of myself for the look plastered on her face.
Chapter Sixteen
Jason-Present
Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’
Panic sets in. I see the pure terror in Dylan’s eyes, hear Mom plead for our father to stop, crying in between sucking in lungfuls of air she can’t hold onto. And my chest caves with the weight of it all. I can’t see them hurting. He can hurt me all he wants, but not them.
So I do the only thing I can think of.
I can’t believe he’s dead. I watched it happen and it still seems impossible. The monster that’s been slowly killing us seemed infinite. Yet there he is, laying in a growing puddle of blood on the flagstone pathway to the street from our front porch.
He’s dead.
I look from his lifeless body to Mom and then Dylan. We all share the same shock, fear, and a glimmer of relief. We shouldn’t be relieved he’s dead, it sounds cynical and morbid. But we’ve all been through so much with him.
And so much transpired in the last five minutes. If I’m struggling to process all of it, they must be, too.
My mother’s watery stare lifts from her dead husband to me. On a hushed breath she utters my name.
“Jason?”
Music is blaring from downstairs. Not much rouses me from sleep aside from my nightmares, but whatever they’re playing is obnoxiously loud.
Frustrated and curious, I whip the covers off me and tug on some sweatpants before heading down the stairs to make a point of turning the music down.
“Don’t Come Home A-Drinkin’” by Loretta Lynn is playing when I enter the living room to find Dylan wearing a crown of fake flowers and Mara dancing around in short cotton shorts that allow her ass to hang out. They’re barely hanging onto her hips with the drawstring pulled tight. I know my brother has no interest in her, but still the thought of her showing those round cheeks off for anyone else pisses me off.
