Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Such a good girl.” I cup her cheek and get to my feet, adjusting my hard-on into the most comfortable position possible as she looks down to see the obvious bulge. “Have you ever even seen a man before?”
Her bright eyes turn sad and I already want to hurt someone. “Yes and no. I mean, some of the men in our family, group…whatever you call it, they like to tease us. They get drunk and show it to us then—”
Rage engulfs me like a tornado and I have to put my hand over her mouth or I’m going to go postal on every one of those fuckers in her little tribe. “Sorry, baby. You’re going to have to finish that story another time. I’m carrying a gun, and I have to make sure I’m around to take care of you. Sorry.”
I drop my hand, barely able to see straight, but I have to stay calm for her.
“It’s okay. It’s not a life like most people know.” The break in her voice tells me I may have to kill someone after all.
“Well, your life is about to change.”
She gives me a sad smile, her lips tight as she looks up at the sky. “I really should get back. Father will want me there for tonight’s performance. It’s where we get the most tips. The patrons have been drinking most of the day and they get a little freer with their money.”
I growl. The thought of anyone with their eyes on her only fuels my red rage. But tearing her away from her ‘family’ right now may be premature. I want her to believe in me and what I see for us, even if it’s going at lightning speed.
“Fine. We’ll go, but I’m staying to watch. No one is going to touch my pretty baby. No one but me.”
Chapter Eight
Kezia
The warmth of the fire burning behind the stage takes the chill from the air, but I still shiver as I take deep breaths. My dance finale of the evening drew more cheers and tips than usual but it feels empty to me.
Emptier than usual I should say.
Merrick is still out in the crowd. He practically threw half the men to the ground for making remarks about me or reaching out and trying to touch me as I spun and danced.
I barely know him, but my every thought is consumed like tinder in a forest fire.
Merrick. Merrick.
Daddy.
It runs on repeat inside my head, pushing everything else out. He’s created a tsunami inside of me, flooding everything, washing away so much of the heaviness and doubt I’ve carried my whole life.
I can see by the way Papa is looking at me as he approaches, he knows something is different and, I’m either in trouble or he’s eaten a bad turkey leg again.
“Papa, I can ex—” I begin, thinking I’ll head off the problem, but he doesn’t seem to hear me as he steps into my personal space.
“He’s on the hook,” he mutters, smiling for the sake of appearances as the rest of our group moves around the fire and chatters, getting ready to wind down for the evening, which usually includes liquor, other substances and sex. “You are the bait, but you have not given him more than you are allowed, have you?” His jawline tightens, his voice thick.
“No, Papa.” I half-lie. I’m never to let our marks touch me more than holding my hand or a peck on my cheek, so what I did with Merrick today would be seen as a horrible indiscretion.
“Good. He’s got it bad but you need to keep him away. He’s disrupting the crowd, making it harder for us to work. You will go with him again tomorrow. Miss the performances and keep him occupied all day. It’s our last day here and the crowd will be big, and so will our take.”
My throat constricts when I see Merrick snaking through the group behind the stage, heading our way.
He’s magnificent, more so than earlier today, and the way he made me feel takes away the tension in my center and I want to fling myself into him.
“Good evening, Sheriff!” My father puts on his best booming, showman’s voice. “You enjoyed the show yet again.”
Merrick’s jaw hardens as he puts his hands on his belt, his gun still holstered as he looks at me, then turns his broad shoulders square to my father. The tension in his body tells me he’s still on alert, not the way he relaxed with me at the waterfall. There’s a fluttering tingle low inside me when I think of the orgasm and I still see the vague outline of dried evidence on his pant leg.
The way he looked at me, kissed me, like I was already his, and for a brief time all the pressures and problems of my life floated away in that little lake.