Page 6 of All My Love

Once they’re gone, I make my thorough weekly pass of his place. Ivy sketches on the porch while I do it, as my lookout. But I don’t wake her up to do it until right before it’s time. Even then, I still bribe her with coffee.

Everyone else gets in the truck, but my focus stays on him once he leaves the house. I can’t look at anyone or think about anyone but him when I have my fingers spearing through my pussy, teasing my achy clit in his honor.

He twists to put his seat belt on once he’s in the truck, and I rub faster, picking up the pace as I imagine riding bitch, bobbing in his lap, sucking warm semen from his cock, making him feel things that onlymymouth can make him feel.

My cunt clamps down around my fingers as my orgasm explodes in my groin, sending a rush of cum onto my hand and into my panties.

Ialwaysgush for Hudson.

I lift my sticky fingers beneath my top and pluck at one of my hardened nipples, imagining it’s him. My abs clench as my orgasm continues tearing through me. When the engine starts, I open my eyes and watch him toss his muscular arm over the seats and twist his gaze to back out. A soft humming twitches between my thighs. If I watched him for another few minutes, Icouldcome again.

I’m always so hungry for him in the morning.

When the taillights are tiny, I replace the binoculars and use the restroom, swapping my soaked panties for fresh ones, washing my hands then face, and brushing my teeth.After running a brush through my hair, I pull overalls over a tiny white cropped tee, slide into my sneakers, and carefully tap on Ivy’s door.

“Five minutes,” I tell her before heading to the kitchen to start her coffee. While it brews, I return to my bedroom, where I pull open my largest desk drawer, the bottom one. The tracks squeal quietly as I tug it open, exposing its contents. Reaching in, I take a newly packaged red toothbrush out. Now there are 78 red toothbrushes in that drawer.

I slide it into my pocket and make my way to the kitchen, where Ivy is sharpening a pencil through a yawn. We don’t say a word as I mix her protein powder with her lactose-free milk, then pour steaming caffeine over the top. Shuffling along behind me, still yawning, we head to the front porch where I hold her cup as she settles into her chair, resting her sketch pad on her thighs while she pulls her hair off her face.

After a ponytail is secure, she reaches for her mug. “Okay, have fun,” she says, looking down at the drawing which is, so far, a photorealistic sketch of a knife with something dripping from the pointed tip.

I pause and take it in. “That’s pretty,” I say, twisting my neck to see it upright. She sips her coffee and beams.

“Thank you.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Still thinking about Rhett?”

Her blue eyes roll to high heaven. “What gave it away?”

I smirk, tapping her paper. “The bloody knife.”

Freeze—I know what you’re thinking. But no, Ivy didn’t murder Rhett. We may be passionate, but we’re not killers.

She just wants to kill him and sometimes wishes shewould have. Because he was a horrible boyfriend who thought the world of himself and in doing so, managed to minimize everyone and everything around him, including Ivy.

I hate him, too. But the next guy she meets will be totally different. I mean, how many ego-driven, self-involved,really a five but think they’re a ten, narcissistic pricks can there be in a super small town? One feels right.

“You don’t know for sure it’s blood until I add color,” Ivy says, taking another sip from her coffee. I trot down the porch stairs and lift my hand over my head, waving back to her as I head to Hudson’s.

“It’s blood, we both know it.”

As I pull open the door, my senses awaken at the scent and temperature of Hudson’s home rushing against my face. Crackling, comfortable warmth hits my nose along with smells of coffee and aftershave, and a trace of pepper hanging in the air—maybe left over from last night’s blackened cod. I twist the deadbolt after clicking the door closed, and slide out of my sneakers. Stepping out of them, I get to work, making my way through the kitchen first.

His mug sits dead center in the white porcelain sink basin, an inch of unfinished coffee left behind inside. Mychest squeezes. He hasn’t left a dish in the sink in a few weeks. Carefully, I lift the mug from the sink, running my thumb over the block letters reading WORLD’S GREATEST DAD. Turning it over in my hands carefully, so as not to spill the remainder, I search for an indication as to where he drank from. But without a single drip in sight, I play it safe, and drag my tongue along the entire rim, my veins going hot at all the unseen things I’m collecting.

Traces of his lips. Maybe even saliva.

Tipping it back, I drink the rest of the cold, bitter coffee. I don’t drink coffee unless it’s his. There’s a fork in the sink that I notice as I replace the mug, but because Bear eats pancakes almost every day, I’m willing to bet it’s his.

Lifting a stack of mail from the countertop, I see the water bill, electric bill and a bill from… “The Feed ‘n’ Seed sends statements?” I question aloud. Hudson always pays for the chicken feed with three crisp hundred-dollar bills. There’s always four dollars and thirty six cents change.Always.

Carefully, I slide my nail beneath the seal, popping it open. After unfolding the paper stuffed inside, I find that I was right. Feed ‘n’ Seed didnotsend a statement. Without hesitation, my blood goes fiery, anger thrashing in my veins.

The paper is a letter from Jade, inviting herself over to Gray Farms before the market on Saturday.

I’m good here at the store, which means I’d be pretty darn good at your place too. If you ever need help setting up, just give me a call.

xo

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