Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Knowing full well that Meryl was the kind of woman who took zero bullshit, when he said that, I knew with certainty that my boys would be in good hands.
Thank goodness for that. A huge sigh of relief escaped my lungs.
“So, now that we have that settled, what’s it going to be, baby?” Kline asked. “You ready to be my valentine and spend several fantastic, sun-filled days in Cabo with me?”
“Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed and jumped up into his arms, sloshing the white wine out of my glass and all over our clothes. But I didn’t care, and neither did he. Lips to his, I kissed the hell out of my husband. “I’m in,” I said, between kisses to his lips and cheeks and nose and forehead. “I’m in, I’m in, I’m in!”
Kline chuckled, took the now half-empty wine glass out of my hand, and set both his and mine on our nightstand.
His forehead, his nose, his cheeks, pretty much any part of his face I could get my lips on, they were all the subject of a very long and pointed attack.
Eventually, though, my lips found his again, and the kissing went from cute and adorable to deep and passionate and heated.
Hell’s bells, I would never grow tired of kissing this man.
My legs were wrapped around his waist, and I pressed myself against him, grinding myself against the firm bulge beneath the zipper of his jeans.
Oh yes.
“Fuck, baby, you always make me so hard.” Kline groaned.
I knew exactly what he meant. If women had dicks, I’d have been tenting the fabric at my crotch for a good long time now.
He laid me back on our bed and kissed a path of openmouthed kisses down my neck and chest, only stopping to move my blouse out of the way with his teeth.
Instantly, my eyes fell closed and a moan escaped my mouth.
“Shall we start our Valentine’s celebration a little early?” he asked, blue eyes blazing as they looked up into mine.
“Yes, please,” I begged desperately. Not one for sexual theatrics, my husband didn’t waste any time removing my clothes.
And then his clothes.
Until finally, he was sliding inside me.
“God, Kline, that feels so good,” I said, my voice more of a whimper than I’d ever heard it. “It always feels so good.”
“Just think, baby. Tomorrow begins the start of even more of this,” he said, pushing himself deeper on a heady groan. “Four days of me, you, and my cock inside your perfect pussy.”
Oh, holy hell. I had a feeling I was going to have a much greater weekend than Thatch could ever have imagined earlier.
New York, Thursday morning, May 25th
Another day, another dollar, another boring-ass conference.
Sure, the men and women on the call included some of my most important investors and some of the biggest brains on Wall Street, but fuck, they all had a true talent for droning on and on and on.
It was a true wonder of the world how I, Thatcher Kelly, adrenaline junkie, adventure-seeker, award-winning prankster, and all-around larger-than-life, attractive-as-fuck, charming-as-hell man, ended up in the world of finance and investments with a bunch of pencil-sharpening number-crunchers, but it was my reality. On the plus side, they were less likely to fuck your sister—assuming you had one—or jiggle your girl’s tits behind your back. I could appreciate the loyalty, and I’d noticed a sleeper-cell, nice-guy version of Mr. Steal Your Girl in one or two of them.
Maybe the next time Kline fucked me over by taking his wife on a second goddamn honeymoon, I’d enlist one of them as my backup wingman.
Eh, fuck. No way they’d be as good as Big-dick.
Oh well. At least they had helped make me rich.
The conversation veered toward upcoming quarterly earnings for corporations I’d already done my homework on, so when an email notification popped up in the right-hand corner of my laptop screen, in the name of softening the boredom blow, I clicked it open.
Fuck yes! It was the response I’d been waiting for with bated breath. Truly, the whole foundation of my best bro’s marriage was on the line, and it was up to me to save it. I would go full-on Elizabeth Bennet on Kline “Mr. Bingley” Brooks if he didn’t step up to the plate for my homegirl Georgia “Jane Bennet” Brooks if I needed to. Trust me, there was no length I wasn’t willing to go to. I’d have to get it specially made—given my fantastically giantlike size—but I’d be a fucking stunner in a hoop dress.
To: Thatcher Kelly
From: Antonio Diamond
Re: Brooks Reservation
Thatch,
Confirming that I’ve set your plans in motion, and I’ve been assured by my staff that they will maintain the utmost discretion. As far as the Brookses are concerned, your kind gifts will be compliments of the hotel.
Call my cell if you need anything else.