Page 138 of Wanting What's Wrong

“Oopsie.” She pouts, a blush rising on her cheeks. I gave up an hour ago on feeling bad about being hard again. Once they were sure she was safe, my dick was rampant and ready like usual when I’m close to her, only it’s worse. I could have lost her and seems my dick is aware of that and is done with any sort of politeness. “I’m not wearing any panties,” she whispers, feigning embarrassment, and the groan that rumbles from my chest makes her eyes widen.

“You okay, lil’ mint?” I ask, running my knuckles down her hair, then reaching over and pinching her chin as she crinkles her nose.

“Yes. I feelgrrrrreeeeeat! Like Tony the Tiger says.” She chirps, then reaches up and strokes my forearm, a fierce flicker in her eyes. “And you feel pretty greattoo.”

After triage last night, then scans and tests, I noticed she was acting…different. The shy insecurity she usually carries was replaced by a playful flirtation. A sassy, sexy new Mina emerged, and I’ve been trying to catch up ever since.

“Jackson.” She says my name like it tastes really fucking good and I could beat off just thinking of it for the next fifty years. “Jack’sson. Son of Jack.”

“The doctor says you’ll be fine. We’re going to get you home.”

“Tell me again, whoyouare? Tome, I mean. Who are you tome? And, while you’re at it, who amI? I’ve lost my memory, right?”

God, don’t make me say it again. I’m already going to hell.

“I told you, baby,” I murmur, returning to stroking her hair, imagining threading my fingers through it, tugging it backwards as I ruin her with every dripping inch of my virgin dick.

When she got the all clear last night, I was so fucking relieved. She reached for my hand as I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, humming her favorite song from when we were little…

I’m a little tea pot

Short and stout

Here is my handle

Here is my spout

I brushed her cheek with my fingers, praying for her to be okay.

“Who are you?” She whispered. “You’re hot and I know you. I know I love you. But, I don’t know who you are…”

I didn’t think, the words spilled out before I could stop myself. “I’m your boyfriend, lil’ mint.”

I shouldn’t have.

I should take it back.

I should fix it right now.

But I don’t want to.

“Yes, you told me. I rememberthat. You’re myboyfriend,” she sing-songs, bobbing her head back and forth like a six-year-old who just won the biggest teddy bear at the county fair. “Jack’s myboyfriend,” she announces, pointing toward my head as a nurse steps through the door, smiling, offering me a shrug.

Mina’s never called me Jack before. I like it but I have something else she’s going to be calling me as soon as I get her home.

“You guys all set? Valet has your car at the front door, Mr. Sanders.”

“MisterSanders,” Mina says, grinning,then lowering her voice just for me. “One day maybe I’ll be Mrs. Sanders? Wait, whatismy last name?”

Again, I don’t think, I answer with the first thing that comes to mind. “Miller. Mina Miller is your name.”

The nurse furrows her brow, but doesn’t correct me. “I have a wheelchair here to take her downstairs.”

“I’ll push her,” I snap, dismissing the nurse with a nod. I don’t want anyone else near Mina right now. It’s just us, our parents are halfway around the fucking world, we’re in our own little fantasy bubble and yes, it’s fucking wrong, but I’m going to ride this wave straight into Satan’s kitchen.

I can handle the heat.

As I pull into the driveway back at the lake house, my head is spinning. I would have died for her before, but now? I’d kill for her. Every-fucking-one.

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