Chapter TwelveHale
It’s Sunday, which means I’m sitting in a damp-smelling nursing-home room with Nana. Yet no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to forget my last session with Brielle, my sexy little peach.
Every detail is seared into my memory. Her tight little ass working against me. f**k. Her petite body latching onto mine, milking me to the last drop. I could quickly see her becoming an addiction. One I wasn’t allowed to overdose on, as much as I might want to. I had a job to do. That was it.
Nana waves her index finger at me. “Grab me my knitting bag out of the closet. I made you something.”
I have an entire dresser full of hideous sweaters, knitted caps, and misshapen scarves courtesy of Nana. If I’m ever invited to an ugly-Christmas-sweater party, I’m fairly certain I could go
