Page 34 of Off-Limits

And how do I make you feel?

Wanted.

I would make you feel a whole lot more, Blossom.

I know… and that’s what scares me.

Her online icon disappears, and I’m left sitting in the dark reading over her message, wishing I could save her from the burdens of the world she undeniably has resting on her shoulders.

It’s pathetic. Stupid, even.

I can’t even rescue myself, so how I expect to save and help anyone else is beyond me. I think of the many nights we’ve stayed up texting, and I realise she hasn’t really exposed much of herself to me. It only intrigues me more, but having Dottie on the scene has confused me.

I want Blossom, but I can’t deny my attraction toward Dottie. If I’m honest, I’ve always had a soft spot for her, and the last time I saw her didn’t exactly go well.

She probably doesn’t remember that I went to the hospital after she passed out on the stage during graduation to check on her. Her parents, of course, didn’t want to take her, but I forced Kerry-Anne to take her, and so did Arrie.

It was the last time I’d see her.

Until last night.

Groaning, I force myself to move my feet and to get myself showered and ready for bed, but I hesitate. Glancing down at my phone, I pick it up and type something I know I shouldn’t.

Are you free next week?

I don’t wait for her reply, instead, I exit out of the app and head to the shower knowing I’m about to stroke my cock to the potential of finally meeting her, finally feeling her flesh, finally giving in.

I wake to banging and clanging, cursing, I reach into my bedside drawer and grab my gun. Not bothering with pants, I creep quietly toward the noise, only to hear her voice.

Dottie.

Fuck my life.

Is the world against me, or is this karma?

I can still hear her telling me she can finish herself off, but I shake my head of the thoughts and images playing like a carousel of fuckery and focus on her in the dark.

“Dorothy?”

“Unc - unky Damon,” she says, giggling and catching herself on the lounge.

“Argh. I’m pretty sure I told you to stop calling me that.”

“But you are myuncle.”

“Step-uncle.”

“Still…” she says with a lopsided smirk.

“Would you not?”

She giggles again, glancing up, snaring me and rendering me fucking speechless. She doesn’t need to say shit, but I can see everything written on her face, everything she isn’t saying.

“I think you need to sleep, girl.”

“I’m fine,” she slurs, hiccupping through her words. “Did you think I’d come home?”

My cock jerks.