CLAIM by Penny Wylder

Author:Penny Wylder [Wylder, Penny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-24T18:30:00+00:00

10

Robert

The ride down the mountain is usually tedious, but I’ve barely been able to keep my eyes on the road because watching Anna is so funny. She doesn’t like the bumps or the steep road, and every time we hit the smallest gully she grabs for the dashboard. I have a mind to pull her into my lap and fuck her while sitting in the front seat of my truck. That could be fun.

I haven’t given Anna either of her orgasms today, so everything I see is a possible way to make her moan. I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of…preoccupation with someone. At the same time, it doesn’t feel that way. I like seeing her happy. I like seeing her flushed and out of breath with my name on her lips. And I want her to have her life back. I was gritting my teeth so hard that my jaw ached, and it was only the fact that Anna was in my arms that I didn’t jump out of bed, track down this David Morris guy, and kick his ass so hard he’d never sit comfortably. I don’t ever want to see those kind of tears in Anna’s eyes again.

Those weren’t nothing. Those tears came from deep pain, and I’d be a fool to think otherwise.

The tiny town at the base of the mountain isn’t anything special. They have a general store, a bar, and one clothing store that sells mostly flannel and jeans. But Anna can’t keep washing the same pair of panties every night, and we need some food essentials. There’s only one stop light in this town, so you can park almost anywhere and walk. I send her over to the clothing store while I hit up the general. I need milk and cheese and pasta. I may be off the grid, but I’m not that kind of hermit. I’m not about to buy a cow because I don’t want to worry about feeding it or milking it. Buying the milk is just simpler.

I grab what we need and head over to the clothing store, but Anna is nowhere in sight.

“She’s in the dressing room,” the bored teenage girl behind the counter says.

“Thanks.”

The ‘dressing room’ is a single stall in the back of the store. I can see Anna’s bare feet under the door. I knock softly. “Any luck?”

The door opens and she pulls me inside quickly. “I don’t know. I don’t usually wear this kind of stuff.”

“This kind of stuff?” I ask. “What kind of stuff is that?”

“I don’t know,” she says, gesturing to the blue flannel shirt that she’s wearing. “Mountain stuff.”

The shirt fits her well, even if it’s tight in the chest. I touch the button that’s about to burst, and it pops open. “I like this.”

“Of course you do.” She laughs, but that’s probably not very practical.

“I don’t know,” I say, undoing the buttons on the shirt slowly to reveal her bra—a tempting black lace concoction and that makes me hard just looking at it.

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