Triple Pass: An MFMM Reverse Harem Romance by Sierra Sparks

Author:Sierra Sparks [Sparks, Sierra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sizzling Hot Reads
Published: 2018-04-15T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 8 - Jasmine

Two whole months and no cramps. I’m screwed.

Lucifer’s waterfall should have been here by now, and by now I mean long overdue. The months, the longest months of my life, cannot end this way. First, my shield lets me go, on email, and then never calls to check up on me, even to know if dad killed me or chained me up in the basement. Then my dad washes his God complex all over me as his only daughter, and preferably sells me to his associates for an arranged marriage. The only source of comfort I know of, Serena Winters, sees me with another man and switches to the defensive. I don’t blame her anyway, I can’t. She entrusted me to live out my life with her son, and I failed in that duty, my duty of care. And there I was, holding hands with Carl Glenn as he escorted me to his car.

It’s clear of course, that through all this, the last thing I need is…

“I’m going out,” I deftly spew, grabbing my scarf from the hanger in the closet and powering through the huge door.

“Jasmine wait!” he shouts, jumping to the balls on his sole. I don’t care anyway. He can run after me if he wants. I’m too fast for him anyway. I’m gone before he can grab hold of the door. By the corner of Maine, I look back. He’s at the door, fuming quietly. With the patience of a moose, he locks his own and walks back to his study.

The town is quiet this time of early dawn. I don’t expect to see more than a few strangers waltzing around, and a few strays. A ring-tailed cat runs by, seemingly preoccupied by an invisible rat or mouse. Or perhaps just for the fun of it. I wrap my fingers around the leather fabric in my pocket, slaying the cold from my extra bits. The asphalt is home to many a strange creature in the night. There are homeless derelicts, sucking and sniffing at the oddest of glues hidden in the piles of clothes, think rags, covering them. If I could help the outstretched hand of the soot-faced mother holding her bundle of joy close to her right now, I would. I walk swiftly by, boosting my speed to the convenience store at the center of Brook and Washington.

The door dings, and I walk into the bright lights of capitalism galore. Snacks and sugar troves to binge on for weeks are on display. I nod to the cashier, Greg. He wearily smiles back. His shift must be about to end soon. The dude needs his bed. I know what I’m going for, and it’s in the ever clean sanitary aisle.

I get what I need and take my time to walk over to the cashier. The lady is new, a gentle afro rocking her scalp, an old copy of Effervescence in the Night in hand, and shady glasses to boot on her thin face. Timidity is strange.

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