Bastard(68)

Underneath the material of her white top, I can see a hint of her white lace bra covering the swell of her breasts. It gives me an idea. I can’t help myself. I lift the sponge in my hand until it’s hovering over her tits. I hear her gasp when she realises what I’m about to do. I clench my fist tight and the water drips out. It soaks into the fabric of her top, making it transparent. Her nipples harden and so does my cock. Christ. I haven’t even touched her yet and I swear I could break diamonds with this fucker.

Peeling my gaze from her spectacular rack, I make eye contact with her again. I’m feeling quite pleased with myself, but that feeling doesn’t last long. The anger I see in her eyes is not what I’m expecting. When did she lose her sense of humour? I guess I should’ve known from past experience, when it comes to her, I’m playing with fire. Especially since she has five years of pent up anger towards me inside her.

This is one time I’m not anticipating her next move. So when it comes, I’m totally taken by surprise. She raises her right leg slightly and then, BOOM. She knees me fair smack in the nuts. Hard. Jesus fucking Christ.

All the air gushes from my lungs as pain radiates through my whole body. My dick goes instantly limp. Fuck, I think she just killed it. I’m pretty sure my boys are now lodged somewhere in my throat.

A feral, high-pitched sound escapes me as I fall to my knees in agony. “Stay the fuck away from me, arsehole,” she screams as she turns and runs inside.

Somebody call an ambulance. I think I’m gonna die.





CHAPTER TWO

Indiana


Tears threaten to fall as I storm down the hall towards my room, but I will them back down. I shed a lot of tears after he left, too many to count. I refuse to shed another. Fuck him.

Ripping my wet shirt over my head, I throw it across the room in anger before flopping face first onto my bed. He’s back. After all this time he’s come home. I don’t know how I feel about that. Actually, yes I do. I’m elated, devastated, and pissed off like you wouldn’t believe. Is it possible to feel so many emotions at the same time? I guess it is, because I’m feeling all of them right now.

I knew in my heart what I felt for him all those years ago was still lurking somewhere in the background. Hidden deep within the depths of my soul. Seeing him now has brought everything flooding back to the surface. It took me years to move on after he left. Fucking years.

I can’t go there again, I just can’t.

There was a time I would’ve done anything to see him again. Absolutely anything. But, he’s come back five years too late. I have Mark now. Next week we’ll be celebrating one year together. I care for him deeply. Maybe even love him. To be honest, I’m not sure. He’s already told me he loves me, but I can’t say it back. Not until I’m one hundred percent certain. Maybe because what I feel for him doesn’t hold a candle to what I once felt for Carter. I think that’s what’s throwing me.

Mark’s handsome, successful and hardworking, but he’s never been able to ignite the burning desire within like Carter could. Mark and I met at college. He chased me for months before I eventually gave in and agreed to go on a date with him. We’ve been together ever since. He’s the first guy I’ve been intimate with since Carter. I stayed clear of any kind of relationship after he left.

For years my shattered heart still belonged to him.

Finally, I gave in to the notion that he wasn’t coming back, so I decided I needed to at least try and love again. Mark’s a good guy. The total opposite to Carter. He’s definitely not what you’d call the bad boy type. He’s safe. Stable. Most importantly, he loves me. He’d never walk away from me. Never crush me the way Carter did all those years ago.



I locked myself in my room for most of the morning. I wasn’t aware of what was going on next door until I finally surfaced. I had no idea Mr. Shepard had passed away during the night. That’s obviously the reason why Carter has returned. To be honest, I’m glad he’s dead. The way he treated his stepson and what he did to me after Carter left, I can’t say I’m upset about his passing.

“Elizabeth’s a mess,” my father says over lunch.

“I bet she is,” is my only reply.

“Carter came home this morning,” he adds giving me a strange look. I know he’s waiting to see my reaction. Well he’s not getting one.

“Yeah I know. I’ve already had the misfortune of running into him.” I take a bite of my sandwich so I don’t have to say anymore.

“You’re still angry after all these years?” he asks reaching across the table and placing his hand over mine. I sigh.