Page 12 of The Big Scoop

“Not sure what else I can dig up, Harrison. We’re new here. Nobody’s going to talk to us.”

“Well, keep trying,” I told her, grabbing the Lamborghini key off the table by the door. “I’ll be back later.”

It took my dick almost a half an hour to go down after Gwen left. I’d considered just going upstairs and taking care of it myself, but it somehow felt wrong. I’d been that close to claiming her, only to have her snatched away from me at the last moment, and if I was going to have a release, it was going to be with her.

I won’t stop until she’s mine.

It wasn’t something I was used to—a feeling of need—but that’s what I was feeling as I hopped back in the Lambo, turned the key, and stepped on the gas.

Need.

I needed Gwen, and I couldn’t quite figure out why. It wasn’t just her mouthwatering curves, her luscious lips, her smooth skin, and dripping wet pussy; it was more than that.

It wasn’t just the fact that I’d boned up the instant I saw her and that she was the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen, as though God himself had created her specifically to drive me wild.

And it wasn’t just because I couldn’t have her either.

No, there was something deeper go

ing on.

She was so fucking fiery! The way she gave it right back to me when we talked—the way she fought so hard to remain professional until that moment out back on the patio. It was so goddamn sexy.

Gwen wasn’t a New York City socialite-bimbo or a model or aspiring actress or Instagram “influencer;” she was a professional woman fighting for a career and demanding to be taken seriously.

And I liked that.

Plus, she was untouched. A virgin. And that was just the cherry on top of the world’s most delicious sundae.

The gates opened and I sped away toward town. I had no idea where I was going, but all I knew was that I couldn’t sit at home idly waiting for Gwen to call. It was killing me that she knew how to reach me but I didn’t know how to reach her.

I blazed down Redridge Road and came down into Derby and just started driving around. Maybe there was a chance that she was outside, or maybe my car would draw her attention and she’d come find me.

Nah, you’re dreamin’, bud.

Gwen wasn’t going to come looking for me—not tonight. I was going to have to wait for her to do that, and when I saw something I wanted, waiting was not something I was good at.

Where are you, I thought as I sped through the streets. I wasn’t really expecting to find her, but I didn’t want to go home either.

I drove by the paper, but the office was closed and the lights were off. I went downtown to Main Street and checked the coffee shop that was still open and the late night gelato place, but no Gwen.

Then a thought occurred to me.

She’d come to do a story on me coming to town…the Macadam Pines…

Why would she be asking me about the Pines? I thought. But it was the only lead (if you could even call it that) that I had, so I swung the car into a U-turn and headed in that direction.

Minutes later I was pulling into the dirt lot on the side of the road with a sign that read, “Macadam Pines. Bikes and hikers welcome!”

And there, sitting on the hood of a beat-up old maroon Camry, was Gwen Thompson.

Found you.

7

Gwen

I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, watched the shadowed silhouettes of the towering pines sway in the evening breeze. The tallest trees in the forest were just over one hundred feet tall and looked to me like countless fingers reaching up to the stars.

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