Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
They are bigger. I remember they were on the football team and basically they fit the stereotypical jerk jock mold you’d expect from some low-budget teen movie.
There’s name calling and chest puffing but I’m just happy I can finish my enchiladas in peace.
The vision of last night’s fantasy comes back in an inappropriate wave. It was of me and Eli in his bed. He was on top of me, my back arched as he entered me, making me scream as he held me down and growled for me to be quiet.
When I couldn’t help myself any longer, I bit down on my pillow, begging for Daddy to tell me I’m a good girl and that he loves me as he stuffed me full of his cock.
I’m not so goody-two-shoes after all.
Rebecca emerges from the kitchen with another plate of enchiladas for me, giving the boys in the corner a hard look.
“I didn’t order more,” I say.
“They’ll just go to waste this time of night. Eat. Eat.” She flutters her hand over the plate and who am I to say no to free food? When you’re poor, a free plate of enchiladas is like winning the raffle at the church fair.
When the voices from the corner rise again, I spin around to see arms and fists flying. A glass shatters on the linoleum floor as Rebecca screams at them to stop or get out.
In the circumstances, I should hit the door and head back to pick up Marcy, but…enchiladas y’all.
So, instead of making a rational decision, I’m scooping bite after bite into my mouth as the melee reaches a fever pitch. Logic prevails and I grab my plate, eyeing an empty booth at the other end of the diner, when all that adolescent testosterone ignites.
The plate flies through the air, crashing against the glass door as mondo number one stumbles back, knocking me almost to the floor. I manage some traction, the air expelled from my lungs, when the second body comes flying, sending me ass over teakettle into the glass window.
There’s shouting and the sound of breaking glass as time slows and I do my best to tuck my body, lacing my fingers behind my head and bracing myself for the stinging pain of glass ripping through my flesh.
The last thing I see before I squeeze my eyes shut is Mario and Rebecca, hands covering their mouths, and two football players spinning to watch me crash through the plate glass window.
I hear my voice as I join the screaming, but the riotous pain never comes. Instead, I’m scooped from the air by muscled arms, thudding against a hard chest as the familiar scent of Eli breaks through my terror.
The broken glass crunches under his boots as he swings me around, tugging me against him with a roar that shakes the dark sky.
“Are you hurt?” Eli rushes me into the diner through the glass, the bright lights buzzing along with my head as he sets me on the counter and starts to inspect me from head to toe. “Answer me. I cannot go another second without knowing if you are hurting.”
“I’m okay. Just…” I swallow, looking over at the five guys now frozen in place, staring at Eli. “Out of breath.”
He runs his fingers through my hair, down my back, lighting fires wherever he touches. My breasts start to ache with need and milk, even though I know he’s only making sure I’m not hurt. The rough pads of his thumbs run down the thick scar on my left thigh, left there the year I arrived at the farm after I climbed on top of a combine and slipped, the sharp metal of the hay rake tearing through my ten year old flesh, leaving me bleeding and alone in the huge barn.
Eli has a sixth sense about when I’m hurting because he was there within minutes. Sure, I was screaming, but on a farm that doesn’t mean much. Eli could have been acres away and I would have surely bled out if he hadn’t found me when he did. It was the moment I knew he would protect me forever. This enormous, dark farmer who felt like an alien to a Park Avenue princess, would be the best father I could ever ask for.
I shiver as he inhales, holding onto that breath, his white t-shirt impossibly tight across his chest.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, releasing his grip on my leg with a touch of my fingertips on his wrist. “Really.”
His dark eyes are on fire as he nods toward Mario and Rebecca, then everything goes nuts.
It’s ten kinds of crazy as Eli loses it on the boys in the corner. One by one, he throws them out the already shattered window, faster and farther than humanly possible as they land one by one in a pile near the curb.