Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
She deflates but says nothing.
“You’ll be here at seven,” I tell her. “Don’t eat dinner before you come. I have something planned.”
She doesn’t reply.
“Chloe?”
“Fine,” she rasps.
“Bunny,” I say, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight. You’re gonna cry out my name as I lap up all your sweet juices. And guess what?”
She doesn’t answer me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll feed you, too. With dinner and I’m also thinking I’ll paint my name down the back of your throat tonight, too. Seven o’clock, baby.”
I hang up and fire off two text messages. First, to my personal shopper. Second, to my sister’s chef friend.
Excitement pulses in my veins as I enter the apartment and set the two thermal bags of food on the table. The food will keep for an hour while I spend time with Chloe, which I’m anxious for, but I deny myself for a moment longer, long enough to pour two drinks at the kitchen counter. I carry them toward where I know she’s supposed to be waiting.
And she’s here. Waiting on my bed on her knees, sitting with her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. She’s wearing a little white and silver mostly sheer spaghetti-strapped number that immediately makes my dick hard. Her nipples are hard. My eyes travel to see the straps of matching panties underneath the layers of fabric that comes to her thighs. I notice there’s an open box containing a pair of matching silver heels on the bench at the end of the bed.
Her eyes are downcast, and her teeth are nibbling on her bottom lip. She followed directions with the lipstick. With her hair.
“I’m very pleased my good girl followed my directions. And on your knees, too? Mm.”
I set both drinks on the dresser.
She shifts so that now she’s sitting, legs folded on one side instead. A little bit of defiance. Her cheeks are pink.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Chloe,” I tell her as I shed my suit jacket and undo my cuffs. “Brought you a Jack and ginger.”
“No, thank you,” she says without looking at me. “I don’t drink when I need to drive.”
“Good girl,” I say, then add, “Gonna want another sleepover soon, though. We’ll schedule that.”
Her eyes meet mine with fire in them. “You don’t need to do this, do you? I mean… for real, Derek. Please help me understand why you’re doing this.”
“Because I want you,” I say simply.
“You can’t tell me you have difficulty finding women who want to…” she trails off.
“I don’t want just any woman, Chloe. I don’t want random. I just want you.”
Her forehead crinkles with confusion.
“You have no idea how under my skin you’ve gotten.” I take a sip of my drink, then remove my shirt as I kick off my shoes. Her eyes are on my torso. I stretch my neck and then go for my belt.
Her expression is filled with distress.
“Guess what’s for dinner, bunny.”
She shakes her head while shrugging and doesn’t meet my eyes. She’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else, I’d guess. But I’m going to change how she feels.
And the fact that my hands are on my fly hits me.
“Ah. That’s not what I meant but I like how you think. Prime rib. And…” I leave it hang for a moment, before answering, “we’ve got baked potatoes and a bunch of toppings. Know why?”
She says nothing, keeps her eyes focused on her hands.
“Look at me, Chloe.”
Her eyes come up slowly.
“Because we both know you like your baked potato loaded, don’t you?” I chuckle. “Sour cream. Butter. Cheese. Bacon. Chives. You want flavor, baby, so I told the chef to season the potato before she baked it, too.”
She sighs and squeezes her eyes shut tight.
And it hits me that I’m going to eventually learn things about her that don’t come from me overhearing them, that don’t come from watching her live her life without me right there to witness it in person. I’m going to learn things about this girl firsthand. Soon. And I look forward to it.
“Check your bank account?” I ask.
She frowns.
“I dropped the hundred k for you this morning.”
She shakes her head. “Why would you do that?”
“I told you. It’s your bonus.”
“What, like I’m your whore or something?”
I sit beside her and take her face into both hands. “Don’t call yourself that unless you’re saying it with confidence. That you’re my whore because it turns you on to say it. Not to say it like it’s a distasteful thing.”
“I’m nobody’s whore,” she whispers. “I don’t want your money.”
“You’re someone who deserves to not worry about money. I can tell you’re conscientious and non-materialistic by how you live your life, by how you spend your money. Not to mention the fact you gave that ten thousand dollars to him. So I gave you more.”
I’m interested to see what she does with it. I can see she doesn’t carry a balance on her credit card. She pays her bills on time. She’s got a good credit score. She also didn’t have much after she put nearly everything toward her house down payment and she’s been living lean while trying to save twenty per cent of each pay.