Page 8 of Covert Desires

But I don’t feel like being trapped inside this shithole with a rotting body. I’m here to hide out, not create more problems.

Besides, she could be useful.

Muscle Mommy’s clearly got more skills than I thought.

Plus, she’s got nice tits for an older woman—if Amazonian blondes are your thing.

She’s still wearing too much clothing for my liking. But that will be a fun present to unwrap later.

My cock thickens again at the mere thought as the hot water rains down on me in the shower.

Kiah is such a distraction.

I can’t say I usually go around jerking off on my captives.

But seeing those brown eyes flare in fury was worth it. She’s hot when she gets all flustered.

The image of her disgust is burnt onto my mind, filed for future indulgence.

But I have bigger problems to deal with than the innkeeper.

Involuntarily, my mind wanders back to the scene I’ve just escaped.

Try as I might, I can’t put the jumbled pieces together in a way that they make sense.

I’ve run through it all so many times, but I still don’t know what happened.

Who the fuck killed my father?

It wasn’t me.

Sure, I was planning on killing him.

That cunt deserved it for what he did to me.

But not like that.

I had a plan.

And my plan definitely didn’t involve waking up in my car with no memory of how I got there, covered in blood, murder weapon in hand…and my dead father beside me in the passenger seat.

Playing Nancy Drew and solving his murder wasn’t really on the cards. I had to get out of there quickly. Before the shit hit the fan. Before they blamed me for it.

Driving like a maniac, I kept looking back at my father’s lifeless body beside me, his dead eyes cocked at the roof.

But I felt nothing.

No remorse.

No sadness.

No regret.

Nothing but the urgency to get the fuck away from him.

In hindsight, I should probably have kicked his body out of the car first or driven the whole thing into the water somewhere.

But at that moment, I was acting on pure instinct. There was no time to be strategic.

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