Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Satisfied that everything is doing its business, I stare at myself in the mirror. Turning sideways, I cringe at how thin I have gotten over the past few months. Declan would never mention it, but I know it bothers him. I can tell when he thinks I am asleep, and his hand traces the part of my body he used to love.
I have always been thin, fit, and tiny compared to Declan. My sister used to call me chicken legs, and she was right. But I have always been blessed in the hip area. My hips were a thing of envy for my mom and sister, but there were pleasures for Declan. He loved them, especially when he was making love to me from behind, gripping them and putting bruises on them. Now, however, they are hardly visible at all, and that alone makes me want to cry.
“Quit it.” I chastise myself and go back to getting ready. Out of the shower now, I lotion up, try not to look at my slight frame, and grab the dress from the closet. With all the weight I have lost, I don’t need a bra on, so I grab some lace undies to go with it, and when it is on me, the tears pour down my face. The fit is awful. Where it was snug is not even that. My impulse is to take it off and go back to bed, but I am not going to allow this to ruin this night.
Finished trying to make myself presentable, I walk into the kitchen just as the timer is going off. Before grabbing the food, I light some candles and turn the lights out. Walking back into the kitchen, I put the potatoes in the blender with ranch seasoning packet, garlic powder, sour cream, butter, and a bit of salt and pepper and allow it to blend for a moment while I pull the green beans from the stove. I hear the key in the door, letting me know he is home as well. I am pulling out the meatloaf when he walks in.
“Whoa,” he breathes, closing the door behind him.
“Welcome home, babe.” Placing the meatloaf on the counter, I walk around the island, smiling not because I feel I have to but because seeing him makes me happy even when I can’t show it.
“Wow, you look beautiful, baby.” His arms wrap around my whole body, and when his mouth touches mine, I sigh into it, allowing myself to go to my place of calm and safety, which has always been in his arms. We stay in the middle of the floor, just allowing ourselves to soak up this moment before we both pull back and smile. Then he looks around, and his eyes get big. “Oh shit. Did I miss an important event or something?” I shake my head and giggle. He is such a man.
“No, babe. I just wanted to cook for you and surprise you. I haven’t done it in a while.” I can see what he doesn’t want to say in his eyes, but I love him for not saying it.
“Well, I love this. Let me wash up and I will be right out.” Nodding, I go back into the kitchen, get out the plates, and place the food in the center of the table. I am setting the table when he comes back in, and it is obvious he has showered. God, I love it when his wet hair drips on my bare nipples.
The conversation is light, flirty, and welcome. We haven’t talked about anything serious in a while, and I love it. T makes tonight easy and guilt-free. Once both of our plates are finished, mine because there was hardly anything on it, so I didn’t have to pretend to be full, I get up to clear it, but he comes around and grips my waist.
“Why don’t you leave it, baby. I have better use for your hands,” he whispers in my ear, rubbing his hardened cock against my ass.
A moment like this would always get me wet and make me want him, but I don’t feel that, and I don’t want him to know, so I pretend.
“Oh yeah big guy?” I turn in his arms and wrap my arms around his neck. “And what would that be?” He smirks and bends his head down further into my face.
“This.”
The next thing I know, I'm pinned to the wall to the left of the bedroom door. Both of my hands are locked in just one of his larger hands above my head. His other hand reaches down and pulls the hem of my skirt. His long fingers caress my thigh. He moves my panties to the side and runs his fingers through my wetness. I moan long and loud. I do want this. My body is responding as it should, but there is a disconnect between my mind and my body. This should feel good, but it just doesn’t.