Page 4 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
Sweat forms on my brow.
I take off my hat and swipe my forehead with my arm.
Goddammit. This can’t be happening. I have no business thinking about Bristol like this.
My gaze works its way up her taut stomach, pausing briefly on her perky tits. Hard little nipples poke through the thin material, practically begging to be sucked.
Sucked by me.
Oh, god, it’s official.
I’m a fucking perv.
I force my eyes to her face and meet her gaze.
She smirks. “What’s the matter, Wyatt? Can’t handle seeing a little skin on a girl?”
“Girl is right,” Blake says. “You aren’t old enough to be wearing shit like that.” He waves his hand at her ensemble. Or lack thereof.
“Pfft, I’m eighteen, Blake,” Bristol says. “As in, legally an adult. There’s nothing wrong with this suit.” She puts her hands on her hips, drawing my attention there. And back to that scrap of fabric barely covering her pussy.
I mentally slap myself in the face.
She doesn’t have a pussy.
She’s a kid.
I mean, she’s female, so technically, she has a pussy. But not like other women do. Because she’s not a woman. She’s Bristol. Cute little Bristol. My squirt.
I’ve got something I’d like to squirt on her.
Now is not the time to think of squirting, for fuck’s sake.
I’ve got to get out of my head. Right now.
I shake it to clear it.
If only I could do the same with my dick.
Any second now, he’s going to stand up and call out for attention. I won’t be able to hide a thing in these fucking swim trunks.
Baseball. Algebra. Bowling. My mom.
“There’s not enough of it is what’s wrong,” I say. My voice is back to squeaky. I sound pre-pubescent.
“You look like you’re trying to play grown-up, a kid wearing Mommy’s shoes.” Blake sneers.
“Exactly.” I nod too fast and jerk my thumb toward Blake to show my agreement. Can he tell I’m lying?
“You’re not the boss of me,” Bristol says to Blake, her voice rising. Then she turns to me. “And neither are you.” She’s pissed.
Wow.
She’s beautiful when she’s upset. Her cheeks are flushed, her big green eyes are flaring, and her chest is heaving. A tumble of dark -red curls spills over her shoulders.
“I’m an adult. I do what I want.” She flips her hair.
Flips. Her. Fucking. Hair.
