My phone goes off in my hand again.
Wes: Thanks for the show, I’ll remember this.
I hope I won’t.
CHAPTER 9
Wes
Not that Iwas planning on sleeping anyway, but after what Bailey pulled in the window there’s no way I’ll be able to now. The temptation to go over there and make her show me how she touches herself right there on her bed is so strong. I stop myself, just barely. I bet she would let me, but that’s not how I want her again.
The longer I stay here the harder it’ll be to fight the temptation to not go over there, and bang on her door. So I grab my keys and leave. Not even trying to keep my car quiet as I drive down the street. I hope it pisses her off because I would love nothing more than to get even more of a rise out of her.
The small gym in town is open twenty-four hours, so I head there first, needing to push my body to the point of exhaustion. I need the burn, the sweat—anything to distract me and take the edge off the erection that’s been tormenting me ever since I saw her pull her shirt off.
Though the image is still playing on repeat in my mind—especially when she slipped her fingers out ofview—touching herself just barely. I know it’s not enough for her. She needs it rougher, harder.
And I can give it to her, if only she would let me.
When I’m doneat the gym, I drive around aimlessly for hours. The roads are quiet and the sun is starting to appear. I feel like I may be able to fall asleep, but head to Jameson’s instead to help out with the morning chores before going home and attempting to sleep.
My muscles ache from being overworked at the gym, but I like the pain as I feed the horses. I’m standing up in the hay loft, dropping flakes down in the stalls when my name is called. I look over to see Jameson’s mom, Emily, standing at the entrance of the barn.
“What’re you doing here so early?”
“Just wanted to help out, couldn’t sleep. Like usual,” I answer, dropping down the last flakes of hay into Juniper’s stall.
“That’s not good for you, you know?” Emily scolds, and I can’t help but smirk at her motherly tone. I know she's not my mom, but since I haven’t had mine around in a long time it’s kind of nice.
I climb down, and see she has her arms folded while looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “I know, but I’ve tried basically everything else and nothing seems to help.”
“Hm,” she hums. “Well, if coming here to do farm choreshelps, then I won’t tell you no. Though, I’m sure Jameson has argued with you about it.”
“Eh, he can get over it.”
She chuckles. “He will. I appreciate your help, if there’s anything we can do for you please let me know.”
“No need for anything, I’m happy to help.”
“You’re a good man, Wes.”
I don’t always feel that way, but I’m not about to argue with her about it, or spill all the not so good thoughts that run rampant in my mind every waking moment. The same ones that keep me awake at night.
I give her a small smile, and nod. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Now go home and get some sleep. I could use the bags under your eyes as suitcases.”
That makes me chuckle lightly, shaking my head. “Thanks, Mrs. Turner.”
“Go,” she encourages.
I’m not about to argue with the woman, so I head home. When I get there, I somehow manage to fall asleep within only a couple of minutes after my head hits my pillow and my eyes fall shut.
Bruno perksup his head as I approach his kennel with a leash. “Ready to go on another walk with me?” I ask quietly, opening the door.
His tail wags once as he approaches me slowly. I slip the leash on him and let him lead the way. It’s completely obvious that he’s taking the exact same trail we did the last time. It’s almost like his paws are taking the same steps he took before. His head stays low, but he seems more sure in his movements, or maybe he’s just more sure of me.
And that feels pretty good.
