Page 94 of His Big Bad Stick

They’re fucking tight pebbles pressing against the inside of my t-shirt she’s wearing.

I know what they feel like too. What they taste like.

I know how her nipples react to my fingers and tongue.

How they react when she orgasms.

Now I’m second guessing myself here. Having her stay here.

But I can’t let her leave.

When she finishes making her coffee, she takes a sip and sighs. “So much to figure out, huh?”

“I guess you can say that.”

“Can I bring up an interesting subject?”

“Why not?”

She sips her coffee again. “My mother. Your father. There’s a history there. History with us.”

She cringes a little.

I lift an eyebrow. “Really? You’re worried about that? About stupid fucking titles from years ago?”

“I mean, my mother was married to your father.”

“I don’t think the ink dried on their marriage license before my father was screwing someone else.”

“True,” Abrielle sighs. “But still…”

“You want to just say it out loud? You have a thing for it?”

“Stop it. We’re not… related…”

“You’re the one who is trying hard to connect dots that aren’t there.”

“I was just pointing something out.”

“Something stupid,” I say. “Do you know how many women were paraded through that house? How many stepmoms I’ve had?”

“The bigger question is how many of those stepmoms’ daughters did you get pregnant?”

I step closer to Abrielle.

She’s fucking beautiful in the morning like this. It has to be the pregnancy. I’ve seen the morning before. There’s something radiating off her.

Yet she ruins it by talking.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” she whispers. “And wondering what do we tell them…”

“I have nothing to say.”

“You’re not going to tell your father?”

“I haven’t talked to my father in close to ten years.”

Abrielle gasps. “Oh, Colver. What happened?”

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