At first, I was grateful for Jessie’s mother. She did her best to protect Jessie from an abusive father. But over time, she’s become greedy and hardened. Selfish. A threat to my girl’s happiness—and I won’t have it.
“What am I supposed to wear after you burn my clothes?” Jessie asks.
“I’ll go out and buy you something.” She’s making no move to unbutton her shirt, so I do it for her, revealing her flushed, braless tits. Smooth, apple-sized globes tipped with raspberry that I’ve spied on for years, but will forever have the ability to make me harder than steel. Fuck, they’re so luscious. The urge to reach into my sweatpants and masturbate to the incredible sight of her is fierce, but I bite down on my tongue and fully strip off her shirt. Then I kneel and peel the jeans down the swell of her hips, the lithe length of her trembling thighs. And all the while, I’m inwardly panting over the expanding wet mark on the front of her panties. God almighty. Just want to eat her pretty cunt so bad. It’s right there for the taking.
Resolutely, I close my eyes and remove her jeans, standing before I follow my urges and rip off her panties with my teeth.
Then my sweet Jessie is standing in front of me in nothing but a little scrap of fabric, truly the sexiest, most angelic female on the planet. I want nothing more than to kneel back down and worship at her feet. Instead, I stand there clutching her clothes so tightly in my hand, I feel the blood leaving my knuckles.
Vulnerability skitters across her features and she crosses her arms over her bare breasts. “What about you?” she asks, breathily. “Don’t you have to burn your clothes, too?”
“Uh-huh.” With my tongue tucked into my cheek, I push the sweatpants down my hips and step out of them—and she finally gets a load of my fully erect cock for the first time, where it’s huge and pulsing inside my briefs. There’s more than one reason I wear oversized pants and T-shirts. Yes, I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable with my physical appearance. But more than that, I needed larger clothes to hide what she does to me simply by breathing.
And my size…suffice it to say, it matches the rest of me.
“Oh my God.” She covers her eyes with her hands, but only lasts a few seconds before peeking back through her fingers. “Ryan, it looks like you’re smuggling a-a…footlong Subway sandwich in there.
I drop my head back and laugh. “Only half of that statement is true.” I bend down and kiss her lips softly. “Stay here, princess. I’ll go get some clothes and…” I check my watch. “Food. Your stomach is going to start growling in nineteen minutes.”
“Nothing is what I thought,” she whispers after a moment. “Is it?”
“Wrong.” I brush my thumb across her lower lip. “Deep down, you’ve always known I loved you, Jessie. You just had no idea how much.”
What the hell is happening?
My entire world has been tipped sideways, oceans pouring into land masses and earthquakes turning into structure fires. Ryan loves me. A lot. And he’s been coming here, to this magical cabin, creating a Valentine’s Day oasis, year after year. But never brought me, because I’m the lady who doesn’t do love.
Why is he wasting his time?
Doesn’t he realize I’m not built for a…a romantic relationship?
I shiver at the R word and continue pacing in front of the giant picture window, watching Ryan stride from the cabin, toting our clothes—and his giant penis—down to a stone campfire ring. He tosses the garments down in the center, dumps an accelerant on top and ignites the pile with a match.
Wow. I mean, honestly he is…built. Built, I say.
He’s thick and strong and hot. Plus, he’s a cop. A man in uniform who is also thoughtful, kind and has a good sense of humor. How is he single?
Just like earlier, the thought of Ryan with another girl makes me feel like I’m spiraling down, down in the center of a massive whirlpool. I fan my hot face and stumble through some more pacing in front of the window. Okay, I think I can safely admit to myself I don’t like the idea of Ryan with another woman. Fine. That doesn’t mean I want to be his girlfriend.
Laughter bursts out of me, but it sounds panicked, instead of humorous.
I wet my dry lips and approach the window, watching as Ryan heads to the car. Unlike me, he had a change of clothes stashed at the cabin, so now he’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a navy T-shirt. They fit him, too. Really…really well. The sleeves look like they’re going to rip at the slightest flex of his cannon-like biceps.