Chapter 30 Ten: Gage

• Of all the atrocious shit I’ve done since my father died—vandalizing cars, getting into drunken brawls—the thoughts I’m having right now are by far the worst.
• I stand above Stella while she spreads the blanket out on the sand. Her skirt is in tatters in my car, so she’s wearing nothing but panties and a button-down shirt. And not a single one of the buttons are fastened, thanks to some work from my deft fingers back in the truck. So she’s on her knees, arranging the blanket and her tits are dangling there like forbidden fruit. My dick is stiffer than sin in my briefs, there is no one around for miles and I can’t help it. I can’t help but think about how easily I could make her mine right now.
• I wouldn’t have to use force. She’s addicted to skin on skin contact with me. It makes her hot. A few minutes of making out with our shirts off and she’d be screaming for me to put it in. I’m a bastard. I’m a terrible man for considering it. One flick up my wrist and she’d be on her back. She might try and push me off, briefly, but she’s too horny to fight me for long. She’d let me kiss her. I’d hump her through those threadbare panties and she’d start to crave the real thing. The way I do.