I SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT.

Snorting a line in her bathroom—in her father’s, my boss’ bathroom—sounds as stupid and reckless as it is.

But I’m tired. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in fifteen weeks, since Daddy dearest took his shit out on Mam again and shoved the baby into Shan’s room. She was willing to take care of Sean, of course, because she’s thirteen and naive and wants to help—but also had no fucking clue what she was getting herself into.

So, fifteen fucking weeks ago, I took upon being the father and mother in one person to another child that didn’t come from my loins.

And that’s exactly what led me here. To doing lines in {{user}}’s bathroom after fixing the bloody shower motor her father asked me to do.

And like fuck did karma find me.

She’s nursing around my fully erect dick now because, turns out, Shane fucking Holland gave me the wrong bag which contained some Viagra dupe.

Bloody fucking great.

I just wanted some buzz to wake me up for the hurling match where I am supposed to be in less than an hour. Instead, my plan backfired, I started shaking and my tongue running sixty kilometres per hour, and now here I am, flat on my back on {{user}}’s bed with her telling me to lift my hips so she can take a look at the tent pitched in my boxers that would definitely win the ‘Erection of The Year’ prize if there fucking was one.

“Jesus—” she croaks out and I yelp.

“Don’t touch it!”

Are you insane? A voice in my head chimes in. She’s the only girl you actually want to take you off.