Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” he whispers.
“It’s okay though. I’m totally game to work on it.”
He licks his lips. “I’m happy to help you practice.”
“Perfect. Next time though, I want you to reach between my legs and touch me. I really like it when I moan with you in my mouth. I think I might even be able to come again if you rub me just right. I was so fucking wet this morning.”
“I can do that,” he growls. “But I’m not sure what you’re trying to do to me right now.”
“What?” I ask innocently. “I’m not doing anything, just talking about sucking your cock like I did this morning. You liked that, right? You sure seemed like you did. Kept grabbing my tits and moaning.”
“Fiona,” he says, jaw working. “Now you’re being cruel.”
“Cruel? I think cruel would be licking you root to tip, swirling my tongue around, pressing my tits together, but not letting you finish on my tongue. Now that would be cruel. But we both know I never would.”
“Fiona,” he says sharply, breathing fast.
I sit back, swirling my drink, watching him squirm. “Yes, husband?”
“If you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to drag you from this bar, take you back to the apartment, and—” He stops himself, biting his tongue. Literally, I think he’s actually biting it.
“Yes?” I ask, tilting my head, sitting up straight so my tits are pressed toward him. His eyes drift to my chest back to my mouth. “Go on, what are you going to do if I keep talking about sucking you off?”
“Fiona.” He squeezes his eyes closed. “Fuck. I need to tell you something.”
“What?” I ask, deflating slightly. His tone is pained. Worry spreads in my stomach. Did I go too far? Did I push him away—again? I just want to be playful. I want him to know what he’s missing.
“I told you last night that I think you earned your payment already,” he says, staring at me like he wants to smash his glass on the floor and fuck me raw right here on the table.
It feels very good to be looked at like that.
“I recall you saying something like that,” I say with a shrug.
“I didn’t say it lightly. I paid off the balance of your loan this morning.”
I sit back, stunned.
This can’t be real. He’s got to be joking, just messing with me for screwing with him. “You don’t know my login info,” I say quietly.
He smirks. “Your username is your email address, and your password is Fiona123.”
“How did you know?” I say, blinking rapidly, heartrate doubling.
“Wasn’t exactly hard to crack.” His head tilts to the side. “Take out your phone and check.”
“This isn’t funny,” I whisper, putting down my drink to do it. I tap in the website and pull up my account info. “Seriously, Gareth. I know it was mean to talk about swallowing your cum but—”
Fucking fucking fuck.
I stare at my balance. I stare at the last payment.
He really did it.
Gareth really paid it all. Every dime of my student loans, wiped out in one massive deposit.
I’m free.
Holy shit, I’m free.
I burst out in tears. I sob, right there in the bar, unable to help myself. People are staring, but fuck, I’m free, I don’t have to keep taking shitty jobs to make ends meet, I don’t have to live in awful apartments because I can’t afford better. I’m free to be my own person, to do whatever I want.
I’m finally free.
“Oh, shit,” he says, coming to my side. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you in public. I didn’t think—” He hugs me, trying to soothe me. “It’s okay, Fiona, it’s okay. There are no strings attached. It’s all paid off.”
“I know,” I say, laughing through my tears. “I know, it’s just, you don’t understand.” The relief is so palpable it hurts. I feel like I’ve been walking around with weights on my ankles and wrists, but now they’re gone. I can float. I can drift, I can be light on my feet.
I’m free.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” he whispers, hugging me tighter. He says something to the waitress, just reassuring her that I’m okay, that it’s good news. I get myself together, feeling a little embarrassed, but he toasts me, holding my gaze.
“Here’s to a new life,” I say, laughing like I haven’t laughed in a long while. No edge to my voice, no worries.
“Here’s to you doing whatever you want,” he says, but there’s a sadness in his eyes I don’t understand.
I don’t have time to think about it. I’m too busy texting Cait the good news. Too busy looking at my account again, just to see that zero balance.
“What does this mean for us?” I ask him once he settles the bill and we’re outside, walking through the comfortably brisk Dallas early evening.
“It means whatever you want it to mean,” he says. “I fulfilled part of the contract. There’s still the money, if you want it.”