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Bettes Kimberley A. - The Good Neighbor The Good Neighbor

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

Последние комментарии
оксана2018-11-27
Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур
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Professor2018-11-27
Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!
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Vera.Li2016-02-21
Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг
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ст.ст.2018-05-15
 И что это было?
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Наталья222018-11-27
Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни
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The Good Neighbor - Bettes Kimberley A. - Страница 24


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I wiggled my fingers around inside her, feeling her warm and sticky juices. She moaned.

Suddenly, my knees buckled. I lurched forward, my hand dropping from the wall to the bed, landing on a pillow. I made a fist, crushing the pillow in my hand.

I gasped.

I released my death grip on the pillow and clutched my dick. I didn’t have to do much. Just a squeeze or two.

I gasped again, louder this time, not caring that I would be heard.

I wiggled my fingers harder as my aching boner finally exploded. It seemed to last forever. I had saved this for her. I couldn’t remember a time when it felt this good to blow my load. It was probably because I’d waited too damn long.

I was dizzy. I kept my eyes closed, enjoying the moment and waiting for the dizziness to pass.

A combination of my sweat and cum soaked into her bed covers now. I looked down at it, trying to focus my eyes. My breathing came and went in raspy huffs.

I became aware now that my fingers weren’t inside her any more. Instead, they lay on the bed, wet with the combination of her and Owen’s juices.

I smiled.

I looked up just in time to see Owen swing a golf club at my head.

37 Carla

I pressed myself as tightly as possible against the headboard. I covered myself with my arms as much as I could and watched as Owen hit Bernie in the head with the golf club.

Bernie, distracted by the disgusting sight of his hand lying on the bed, didn’t see it coming in time to defend himself in any way. The club connected solidly with a thud, and Bernie fell onto the bed, landing in the mess he’d just made. I pulled my legs closer to my chest to avoid being crushed by him.

Owen cussed at Bernie furiously. Seeing that he was unconscious, Owen saw his opportunity. He jerked on his jeans and shoes while asking me if I was okay.

I nodded, though I was pretty sure I wasn’t okay. Not emotionally or psychologically anyway. I’d have to deal with that later, after Bernie was gone.

Owen began dragging Bernie through the house.

As soon as they were out of the room, I jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. I jumped into a hot shower, scrubbing myself again and again, especially where Bernie had touched me.

Leaving the water running, I got out of the shower and rifled through the cabinets until I found what I was looking for. I needed this. If I was ever going feel clean inside again, I had to douche.

Through tears that seemed endless, I did everything I could to make myself feel as clean as possible. I knew I’d never erase the feeling of Bernie’s fat, stubby, filthy fingers in me, but this was a start.

With shaky hands, I dressed. I ripped the bed covers off the bed and threw them to the floor. I’d burn them in the morning.

But now, I ran downstairs to see if Owen needed me.

38 Jill

I didn’t usually have trouble sleeping. Normally, once my head hit the pillow that was all I knew until morning. But things were different now.

I was still upset that I hadn’t been able to talk to Andy yet. It was always something. Either he wasn’t home or I wasn’t home or one of us was asleep or something. I was frustrated and angry at the situation, but not at either of us. Things happen for a reason. When the time was right, I’d be able to tell him. I had to keep telling myself this so I wouldn’t go rushing into the bedroom screaming at the top of my lungs.

For now, I sat on the front porch in my nightgown sipping ice water and nibbling crackers slowly, hoping I could will my stomach to digest them. I hadn’t been able to keep anything down for a couple of days. Between the lack of food and using all my energy to vomit regularly, I was starting to feel weak.

It was peaceful at this hour. I could see what appeal it had for Owen. It allowed you time to think, to clear your mind and regain your focus without all the daytime distractions.

That is, until the yelling shattered the silence.

I looked to the direction of the disturbance and saw a shirtless Owen throwing Bernie out of Carla’s house.

I immediately knew something wasn’t right. Bernie shouldn’t be inside Carla’s house ever, and certainly not at this time of night. It didn’t take a genius to tell that Owen was furious.

I dropped my cracker and stood quickly, bringing on a bout of dizziness and nausea. I steadied myself against the patio table and waited with my eyes closed for it to pass. This was certainly beginning to annoy me.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Bernie lying on the sidewalk at the foot of Carla’s steps. Owen was standing over him wearing only jeans and untied shoes.

Bernie seemed to be waking up. Or maybe he was drunk. He was always drunk, so that was probably it.

When Bernie began struggling to stand, I saw Owen tense and assume a fighting stance. No good was going to come of this.

I went inside to wake Andy. I hated to involve him in something like this, whatever it was. But he and Owen were best friends. Owen wouldn’t hesitate to help out Andy. I hated not knowing what I was getting my husband involved in, but I had faith that if it was bad, Owen wouldn’t allow Andy to be in danger. I also had faith that if it was too dangerous, Andy would have sense enough to walk away. If not for his own sake, then for mine.

I shook Andy awake and told him to dress quickly. He didn’t question me. I loved him for reasons such as that.

While he dressed, I told him about Bernie and Owen. He dressed faster. As soon as his last shoe was on, he ran out the front door with me right behind him.

I stayed on the porch for now, and watched as he ran down the steps and across the street, toward the danger.

39 Andy

I ran across the street to where Bernie and Owen stood arguing. I saw a trail of blood running down the side of Bernie’s face.

Owen was shirtless and furious. I’d never seen him look the way he did now. His face was red, his eyes larger than I would’ve thought possible. I saw veins protruding in his neck. He kept his right hand clenched in a fist, as if he may need to strike with it at any second. His breathing was quick. Spit flew from his mouth as he talked.

I tried to catch up on what was going on.

“It’s none of your business what I do with her,” Bernie said. He appeared drunk, but it could’ve been dizziness from the blow to the head. He staggered.

“You son of a bitch!” Owen yelled, lunging toward Bernie.

I jumped in front of him and put my hands on his bare chest. “Owen, calm down. Calm down.” I didn’t think it would take so much effort to hold him back. We were roughly the same size, both about six feet two and two hundred twenty or thirty pounds. But it really was taking all I had to hold him back.

“Get off me, Andy!” Owen had never yelled at me before, but he sure was now.

“Just calm down. What’s going on?”

“That bastard broke in and...he done things to Carla while I was right next to her! I’ll kill him. You hear me, you bastard? I’ll kill you.”

I gave Owen one last push and turned toward Bernie.

“Bernie, is that true? Why? Why’d you do that?”

Bernie waved his hand like it was nothing. “She wanted it.”

Owen sprang for him, going around me, but before he got to Bernie, Carla did.

She came from nowhere it seemed and swung a golf club with more strength than I would’ve guessed any woman to possess. It connected solidly with Bernie’s crotch. The howl that arose from him at that moment made my skin crawl.