mumble. She smiles.
I grab a towel and shut myself in the bathroom before the bulge in my khakis can make things even more awkward. Goddamn, what is this girl doing to me? I’ve never had such an intense and immediate reaction to a woman before. And now she’s going to be staying here. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I strip down and step into the shower. Thankfully there’s already soap and shampoo in a plastic caddy. In my race to get here, I didn’t think to bring much of anything—including clothes. Hopefully something of Jack’s will fit me. As I’m soaping up my body, my thoughts float back to the drive up here. To Norah’s thin tank top, her creamy thighs.
And, oh yeah, her hand on my dick.
My cock is hard, and has been since the moment I first saw her. But it’s the pressure in my balls that needs relieving. I wrap my fist around my shaft and stroke. I think about porn. I think about blonde chicks with fake tits and leather cuffs around their wrists.
I think about anything other than the girl asleep in the next room.
But after a while, the usual bondage fantasy just doesn’t cut it. My cock knows what it wants. It wants Norah Benson on her knees. Her soft, pouty lips wrapped around the head, her pink tongue stroking the underside. It wants her hands gripping my shaft, her big, green eyes gazing up at me, questioning. Is this right? Am I doing it right, Daddy?
Fuck, yes, baby girl. You’re doing it just the way I like...
I bite back a moan as my cock throbs in my fist, shooting cum all over the shower tiles.
One by one, my muscle groups start to relax, as the reality of what I’ve done starts to sink in.
I am in deep fucking trouble.
Chapter Six
Norah
In the hazy space between sleep and waking, I almost forget where I am. I forget that my dad is dead because of me, and that I’m technically sleeping in a stranger’s bed. But as my eyes adjust to the light, the memories come flooding back, and I can’t stem the tears that follow.
How did this mess become my life? Why did I let an utterly despicable asshole like Brody take control of my mind and body? My parents never beat me, though they weren’t always around. My mom’s a pretty scattered person, and my dad was constantly working.
Materially speaking, I had everything a girl could ever want. But knowing my parents love me isn’t the same thing as feeling their love. Brody saw what I was missing and worked hard to fill in the cracks. He weaseled his way into my mind and heart, until I was convinced that he was the only one I needed. And the only escape I got from Brody’s control were the weeks I spent here at the cabin with my family.
I aim my sobs into the pillow as the memories come rushing back: playing cards on the porch with my parents, helping my mom hang the laundry, all the afternoons I spent hunting and fishing with my dad. Maybe if those moments hadn’t been segregated to only a few weeks every summer, I wouldn’t have fallen prey to Brody’s manipulation. I wouldn’t have let him mold me into the kind of person who lies and steals and cheats to get what they want.
Because that’s who I really am underneath. I put on a good-girl act for my parents, but inside, my blood is poison, killing everything I touch. What happened to my dad was my fault. I can lie to my mom, to the police, to the whole damn world, but there’s no lying to myself.
Thankfully, lying to Silas came easily enough. Brody always said the best lie is one that includes a version of the truth. When Silas threatened to kick me out, I knew I had to tell him something. Not the whole truth, but just enough for him to understand why I couldn’t go home.
My stomach twists and gurgles. At first, I think it’s my guilt eating away at me, until I remember I never actually bothered to eat dinner. I dry my eyes, and drag myself out of bed, listening for signs that Silas is up and walking around. Hearing nothing, I tiptoe to the kitchen for a towel and then scurry back to the bathroom to shower. I put on a fresh pair of panties and a black tank, plus