green and sweetheart pink bachelor button floral printed wallpaper, anything to resist the delicious fragrance.
But it was useless denying the sweet scent, and so he let it cascade over him in cooling, soothing waves, allowing it to become a part of him.
Peppermint.
Sweet, wild peppermint tea.
Tender snatches of memory tugged delicately at his brain.
Peppermint. Sweetness.
Peppermint candy sticks.
Standing at full attention like green and white uniformed soldiers. Nestled snugly and safely inside the largest glass jar he’d ever seen.
Eyes wide with high expectations, and as delicate as a nine-year-old boy could be, he lifted the glass jar lid. Mouth watering with anticipation he withdrew one sticky, gooey peppermint stick. Before replacing the lid, he angled a pleading look at his mother who stood at the counter busily chatting with Mr. Lapp, the general store’s owner. As if his mother sensed him watching her, she threw him a stern warning look and he gave up the idea of having two.
Sometimes when she was in an especially good mood, she allowed it. But today she wasn’t happy. He could tell by the frown on her face. Tidbits of their conversation floated to his young ears.
“Thank you so much for extending us more credit, Mr. Lapp. We appreciate it.”
Mr. Lapp, a kindly, elderly Amish gentleman who ran the store, smiled at his mother and patted her hand comfortingly. “All the farmers in de area have bin hit with de hail storm. You are not alone. Ya?”
He liked the way Mr. Lapp looked at his mother. Everyone looked at her in the same way. It was because she was so pretty. Her eyes twinkled and laughed and they were the same color as the golden wheat fields surrounding their farmhouse at harvest time.
She had the longest hair. Longer than all of his friends’ mothers’ hair. He was real proud when his friends commented on how her hair glistened an almost bright blue in the sunshine, and blacker than midnight coal on cloudy days. She even let him comb her silky hair sometimes. When she was in a good mood. But nope, today she definitely wasn’t.
Replacing the lid on the glass jar, he quickly shoved one end of the warm stick into his mouth. Cool sweetness exploded against his taste buds, and once again, he’d found heaven.
The memory faded into the deep recesses of the black abyss. And his pounding headache returned with a vengeance. He tensed at its intrusion and took a deep breath.
Pain prickled through the right side of his back into his belly. Another memory rushed up from the black void like a gushing oil well.
It was dark. He was running through a meadow. Suddenly from somewhere behind him, the cop yelled, “Freeze! Or I’ll shoot!” His voice sounded faraway. He would take the chance. He kept running.
A red-hot poker pierced his back, quickly followed by the harsh sound of a gunshot. He stumbled from the force of impact but he kept running. He charged into the nearby trees. Small twigs crackled beneath his feet. Large branches slapped painfully against his face. His lungs were on fire. The bullet wound in his back screamed for attention. Yet he kept running, headlong into the night.
Bullet wound!
His right hand moved beneath the covers and he allowed his fingertips to run along his warm flesh until he touched something taped to a throbbing area at the side of his lower back.
Yep, he’d definitely been shot.
His hand scuttled back to the front and brushed against his semi-erect cock.
His very naked cock!
A tinge of warmth scuttled across his cheeks.
What the hell?
Lifting up the covers, he peered curiously at himself. Except for some frilly, pale yellow linen-type bandages wrapped securely around his waist, his wrists and palms, he was unmistakably and totally naked as his pulsing cock poked up against the covers.
In the back of his mind lurked dreamy visions of the woman intimately touching his cock. His shaft pulsed harder, grew tighter. His balls swelled