Filthy Puckboy (EBOOK)

I’d dreamed of a two-towered bridge painted in International Orange.
I’d dreamed of fog crawling along the hill-filled city, creeping around skyscrapers, dancing over the rooftops of the Painted Ladies.
I’d dreamed of walking along twisting streets crowded with cars and of buying crabs fresh off the boat, steamed right there on the street corner, and made ready to eat with bare hands, delicious dunked in melted butter, napkins optional.
I’d dreamed of strong arms wrapped around me as we watched the sea lions bark on their platforms that floated alongside the pier, of sharing sourdough with a crust so thick that chewing it made my jaw hurt.
I’d dreamed of divvying up an ice cream sundae as big as my head, of music blaring out of club speakers, vibrating through our bodies melded together on the dance floor.
I’d dreamed of holding hands while riding the Ferris wheel in the park, my insides leaping and dipping as we rounded that big, big circle.
And more than anything, I’d dreamed of a sexy smile. His smile widening in surprise of me being there, of that surprise turning to excitement and joy and heat, his calloused hands trailing over my naked skin, of kisses and a hard cock and a night lost to lovemaking.
I’d dreamed of a man who could look at me and love me for me.
Of a man who looked at me and knew that I was enough.
A woman with small dreams and a quiet life.
A woman with heavy baggage and a prickly exterior.
A woman who was a little dinged and dented and…still enough.
But…dreams didn’t come true.
God, I knew that.
I’d lived that enough in my twenty-five years to understand that my dreams didn’t matter. Because every time I thought that my life was going to be different, that I was going to glide toward an ending that was happy and warm and everything my fantasies were made of, those dreams turned to nightmares.
One thread tugged and it all unraveled.
One wrong move and it all shattered.
One stuttered heartbeat and…I was broken.