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His Hellcat(5)

By:Rory Reynolds



The old pipes creak and moan as I turn on the taps before water gurgles out of the faucet and into the tub. This was always one of my favorite parts of coming here. I may have been a tomboy growing up, but I loved baths. Granddaddy always spoiled me with getting bubbles and those fizzing bath balls. With there being eight of us at home we didn’t get the luxury of baths. We had timed showers so that we all got clean without running out of hot water. So, whenever I was here, it was a treat to take a bath and play in the water as long as I wanted.

I pull my ruined dress over my head and drop it into the sink so it won’t soak the floor. The jar of bath fizzers on the counter causes my heart to constrict. There isn’t a single day that passes where I don’t miss my Granddaddy.

I strip out of my black lace panties and toss them on top of the dress before stepping into the tub and closing the tattered shower curtain. The water pressure leaves something to be desired, but the heat from the water is heavenly. I work the shampoo into my hair and for the first time ever, I actually follow the wash, rinse, repeat instructions.





2





Hutch


I’m going to fucking kill him. I can’t believe Drake! Motherfucker. He said I would be alone up here. “Go to my cabin,” he said. “It has been empty for years,” he said. I continue to mock my friend as I search through the meager supplies I brought trying to find something for Blake to eat.

“Fuck!”

I run my hands through my hair for the umpteenth time since I opened the front door to find a disheveled, soaked to the bone goddess ranting to herself on the front porch. I can’t believe the luck. I came here to get away from people, especially women. When my wife found out I was being discharged due to the injuries I sustained, she decided to come clean about the fact that she had been cheating on me and wasn’t ready to give up her lovers. Yes, lovers, plural. So, one divorce and several mandatory therapy sessions later, I decided I needed a break.

The therapist says I have PTSD, which for me is just a fancy way of saying I’m fucked the hell up. I know it’s common, but I can’t help feeling like a pussy. Anxiety isn’t something I understand and fear is not a feeling I am accustomed to. As a soldier I was unstoppable. As a civilian, the grocery store feels like I have a dozen enemy soldiers breathing down my neck, ready to end my miserable existence. After I freaked the fuck out at Wal-Mart and nearly ran down a family of four trying to get out of the store because someone dropped a can of green beans on the floor, I decided it was time I got my shit together my own way.

Alone.

I find it hard to believe Drake would send me here knowing Blake would be coming, so she must not have planned this trip. Which would make sense since it’s obvious she’s running from something or someone. Her brother needs a serious wakeup call; his ‘little’ sister isn’t a little girl anymore. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. It took running through every drill song I know—twice—to keep my cock at half-mast while I held her.

I’m such an asshole.

The poor girl is obviously going through some shit and the only thing I could think of was how her dress accentuated her tits perfectly and if I didn’t know any better, I would guess she wasn’t wearing a bra because the tight buds of her nipples poked at the fabric in the most delicious way.

Reaching down I adjust myself in an attempt to relieve a bit of pressure. If I can’t get control of myself this isn’t going to end well. I know Drake wouldn’t appreciate my ogling his sister and would certainly rip my balls off if I fucked her.

Right now, I almost don’t care about the risk to my junk. At this very moment, the only thing I can think of is sinking balls deep in her lush little body and riding her long and hard. It’s been months since my cock has had attention from a woman and he’s taken on a mind of his own. Just knowing Blake is naked in the shower right this very second is enough to short-circuit my brain. I’ll never survive staying in this cabin with her.

Finally, I manage to focus on the task at hand—food. With not much to choose from, I decide on creamy tomato soup and grilled cheese. Soup and a buttery, cheesy hot sandwich have always been a go-to comfort food for me.

I have the soup warming on the stove and the sandwiches nearly done when I hear the creak of the bathroom door opening, followed by her light footsteps. Steeling myself for her inevitable approach, I take a couple of deep breaths and remind my cock to mind his manners.

I don’t know who I’m trying to kid. I’m a horny bastard and fate just dished up one fine ass temptation.

“Something smells delicious.” Her voice is like a shockwave straight to my gut. Jesus help me out here or I’m going to do something very dishonorable.

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