flying, and I wonder if I will ever be able to enter her.
I can’t stop myself from thinking about her late into the night. When it’s dark, and nobody can see, I stroke myself until I’m sticky and wet. A loud shriek comes from the house, and the moment I spin around, I find Ginnie racing up toward me.
The sun hits her white tunic just right, and I’m afforded a view of her beauty. Every, sultry inch. She’s quite stunning, and she doesn’t realize what she does. It’s her innocence and girlish giggle that always gets me, and I’m tempted to fuck her right here. I’ve seen the books and magazines. I know how to make her mine. I push my cock inside her and make her bleed. I’ll steal her essence because I believe it’s mine. It should be mine.
“Trenton,” she squeals, leaping into my arms, and I’m forced to hold onto her or she’ll land on her ass. “You didn’t wait for me,” she accuses me with a pout that does things to me. Things that are wrong.
“I . . . I needed a moment to think,” I tell her. She knows what I mean. Last night, we did something we shouldn’t have. I felt her warmth through the cotton. The bed we shared a few times—when he wasn’t aware—is so small, I can’t not touch her. And the moment it happened, I rolled away from her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, lowering herself to her feet, her body still inches from mine, and every part of me has come alive from the proximity. “I wanted to spend the day with you,” she tells me. “What if you go back in there?”