“Is that good?” she whispered. “I’ve heard you when you do it to yourself. You always think I’m sleeping. I want to do it to you.”
My fingers dug into her shoulder, my other hand curled into the sheets at my side, fisting the nubby material. My lungs hurt from holding air in. I was too afraid I’d explode, and then Uncle Dickwad might hear us.
Would I get loud like he did?
If he caught us, he’d throw me out on the street, kill me. He hated having me around, another mouth to feed. But he’d grown to like the fact that I now looked out for his daughter. He didn’t have anything restraining him from his daily or nightly activities—women, drugs, gambling, stealing.
I clamped my jaw down tight against the strain.
She kissed the side of my face and nuzzled my throat as her strokes grew harder.
My feelings for Inès were a secret wish I’d kept locked up in my twisted heart. I barely understood these feelings myself. She was my first cousin, as good as a sister.
We can’t. It’s wrong. So wrong.
But with every stroke of her hand, those feelings exploded like tiny hot-air balloons all through me. It felt good…so good. The wrong made it even better.
“Shit!” My cock throbbed and pulsed, my hips tensed.
A string of Spanish curses and loud drawn-out groans coming from Uncle Johnny and his puta were the soundtrack for my very first orgasm at the hands of a girl.
I blew, my cum spurting.
Her body jolted. “Oh!”
Both our gazes went to my dick in her hand. She blinked up at me. Waves of euphoria flooded through me.
“That felt so good,” I whispered.
She smiled against my skin and crashed her mouth against mine. She gave me her tongue, and my stomach flipped. I swirled in a kaleidoscope of color and distorted sensations.
This was what kissing should be like.
This wasn’t what I should be doing with Inès. This was for other girls…for Lucy…
This was bad. This was wrong.
Fuck it. Ah, fuck it.
I took her in my arms and kissed her deep.
She pulled away, giggling, her dark eyes huge, and sparks went off in my chest. I hadn’t heard that sweet tiny laugh of hers or seen such an effortless smile on her face in ages.
“Gosh, my hand is…full of you. This gets messy, huh?”
I dropped to her side and pulled her in close to me. “Very messy.”
“Hi.”
A child’s voice sliced through my fog, bringing me back to the doctor’s waiting room. Two big brown eyes with long lashes stared up at me.
I sat up straight, my eyes focusing on that small face. It was the little boy whose mother had been reading to him.
“Hey there,” I replied, clearing my throat, pushing my hair away from my face.
“Brent, come back here.” The mom gestured at her son. “Don’t bother the man. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Hi, Brent.”
He tilted his head at me.
I gestured at the book his mother held in her hands. “You like your book?”
Brent nodded.
“I like books, too.”
Brent stared at me, as if he’d finally met Darth Vader. A mix of fascination, awe, and excitement sprinkled with dread.
I pointed to his T-shirt that had dancing carrot and broccoli figures on it. “You, uh…eat your vegetables? You like broccoli?”
He only made a nasty face, and I laughed.
“How about cucumbers?”
Brent shrugged his shoulders.
“I like cucumbers,” I said. “They’re really fresh and…refreshing. You got to try ’em. They’re green, too, but they’re tasty. You gonna try ’em?”
Brent nodded. He reached out and touched my silver rings, his fingers landing on my One-Eyed Jacks skull.
“Honey, don’t touch the man!” The mom’s face tightened. “I’m so sorry.” She moved to stand up.
I held my free hand up at her. “It’s fine. Please.”
Brent’s tiny lips parted as his index finger traced the round, smooth head of the skull. “You like that one, huh?” I asked him. “Me, too. That’s my favorite. You like this one?” I pointed to the fanged snake ring.
His eyes widened, his lips twitching as he nodded again.
“You’re a lucky boy to have a mommy who reads to you.”
“Does your mommy read to you?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah, she did when I was like you.” I slid up in my seat, lifting my sunglasses off my face. “She was real busy though, so she didn’t have a lot of time to read to me. But I liked it a lot when she did.” I glanced over at the book his mother held in her hands. A lion, a zebra, and a giraffe decorated the cover. “You like animal stories?”
His eyes lit up, and he smiled.
I smiled back. “Me, too. I liked jaguars the best.”
“Jag-oo-ars?”
“Yeah, they’re big cats that run very, very fast. Like tigers, sort of, but they have spots instead of stripes. They’re beautiful.”