Free Alone With Alexa (An Erotic Romance) by Virginia Wade Page A

over the side of the
bed. “I’m jumping in the shower.”
    She was meeting a girlfriend to go antiquing.
While the shower ran, I stared at Ryan’s profile, never tiring of
his face. He seemed to sense my appraisal, an eye opening. Rolling
into me, he pulled me to him, and I snuggled into the musky warmth
of his chest. Sighing with bliss, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
When I woke, I was alone in the bed, my nightgown having bunched up
near my lower back, exposing tanned legs and pink panties. The
smell of coffee lingered in the house.
    I went to my room to change, pulling up a
pair of shorts, fastening my bra, and tossing a t-shirt over my
head. I ran a brush through my long, straight blonde hair, staring
at myself in the mirror. I knew I was pretty, because I received a
lot of attention from the opposite sex, especially over the last
two years since my breasts had grown, but I couldn’t seem to get
Ryan to notice me. Sometimes I felt ashamed for even trying. Mom
was so happy with him, and I adored him because he treated her like
a queen, and I, his little princess.
    I found him at the kitchen table on his
laptop. He glanced at me. “Hey, squirt.”
    “Morning.” I opened a cabinet and retrieved a
cereal bowl. “What are we doing today?”
    “I gotta clean out the garage. I was supposed
to do it last weekend.”
    “Ooohh…ex-cit-ing.” He laughed at that. I
poured cereal into the bowl and added milk, bringing it over to the
table. I ate while staring at him, which was a favorite activity.
He wore a blue t-shirt with a Harley-Davidson logo embossed on the
front. “I could help you, if you want.”
    He smiled. “Yeah? Great. I gotta move a bunch
of boxes and organize stuff.”
    “Okay.”
    It was hotter than hell with a high humidity
index. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and stepped into white and
pink sneakers. Ryan had the radio on in the garage, with a portable
fan blowing, but it did little to alleviate the heat. He had moved
a variety of items from the shelves.
    “These are going to the dump. Can you put ‘em
in the back of the truck?”
    “Sure.” He began breaking down boxes. Mom and
I had moved in with him six months ago.
    “Take this too.” He handed me an old
suitcase.
    “Okay.” We worked for the better part of an
hour, rearranging things and sweeping away cobwebs. I struggled to
move a heavy box, bending to pick it up.
    “Lemme help you with that.”
    “What the hell is in here?”
    “God only knows.”
    I stacked packages of nails and screws inside
a cabinet. Closing the door, I caught my pinky, pinching it.
“Ouch!” Pain flared, sending tears to my eyes. “Oh, shit!”
    “Lemme see.” He sat on a crate and pulled me
onto his lap. He took my hand, examining my finger. “You’re gonna
bruise pretty good.”
    “It hurts.”
    “You should put some ice on it.”
    I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I
will.”
    He patted my back. “You can quit now if you
want. You’ve been a real help. Don’t you have somethin’ better to
do anyway?” Being this close to him was the only thing I desired.
He smelled of muskiness mixed with perspiration, but I loved it.
His bristly beard scratched my cheek. “Honey?”
    “Hum?”
    “Hop on off. Go get yourself some ice.”
    Reluctantly, I disengaged myself and stood.
“You want a soda?”
    “That’d be nice, thanks.”
    “Okay.”
    Later that evening, I helped mom make dinner.
I was skilled at making spaghetti Bolognese, which wasn’t hard to
do. Ryan was easy to please where food was concerned, since he ate
everything that was placed before him. He was always extra
appreciative when I made brownies. I drained the noodles, the steam
rising from the water. I placed the salad bowl in the middle of the
table.
    “Thank you, Alexa,” said my mother.
    “You’re welcome.”
    I felt as if I were being scrutinized for
some reason, but when I turned around, they were otherwise
occupied, Ryan with his laptop and mom with her phone. After