Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Surely, this was a worthy name to the Lion’s child.
Then, we switched to discussing girl names. For some reason, I was drawn to the name Kira. I loved that it meant throne or leader of the people. The name made sense because my daughter would be sitting on the throne one day and ruling our empire.
Emily loved the name Sofia because it meant wisdom. She wanted our daughter to be highly intelligent and truly independent, traveling all over the world and having a fun luxurious life.
Meanwhile, I found that concept funny. Independence? My daughter would be a daddy’s girl and always remain by my side, killing and conquering, bullying and terrorizing. Her aunt would be Valentina after all.
Once full of food, we made love. Soft, slow, and sensual. No teasing. No taunting. Just whispers of passion and moans of pleasure.
After intense orgasms, Emily dragged us out of bed late in the afternoon, reminding me that we should get everyone together to discuss Fela.
I was going to argue that we had more time, but I could see the sun lowering to the center of the sky. There would only be a few more hours of afternoon left before we shifted into evening.
We showered together. So happy, I sang her a few of my favorite songs, while she laughed and soaped me up.
Once we dried off, I came up with a fun challenge.
“Hmm.” With only a towel on, I stood in the center of the suite’s massive closet, examining the scores of Emily’s wigs displayed on shelves. “This is a rather difficult choice, mysh.”
She perused my suits. “Not as hard as mine.”
“Your challenge is simple.”
“It isn’t. My decision for what you will wear is much harder. You have hundreds and hundreds of designer suits.”
“Of course.”
“Kaz, you have a shopping problem.”
“I have a problem?” I pointed at all the wigs. “I think you have clearly beat me in this category.”
“Just pick a wig.”
“Do not rush me.” I lifted one red wig off the shelf. It was a lush mane of long, wavy strands.
Very nice.
I stroked it. The wig’s silkiness was soft and thick, caressing my fingers, tickling my palms, and making me want to never stop running my fingers through it.
This may be the one.
Emily eyed me. “Are you going to pick the wig or fuck it?”
“I must take my time with this.” I frowned. “It is important.”
“But, no one even said you were choosing my wig today. The challenge was that we would pick each other’s outfits for this afternoon’s meeting.”
I shook the wig, assessing the way it swayed with the movement. “But the wig is just as much a part of the outfit as your shoes. Or am I wrong?”
“Just pick a damned wig, and stop shaking her like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.” Emily took out another suit and placed it by four other ones that had been hanging across from her. “I have more progress than you.”
“What progress?” I turned the mannequin head around to get a better look of the waves. “You have done nothing over there.”
“Kaz, I already have the tie, socks, boxer briefs, shirt, and shoes.” She went to a different rack of suits and ran her fingers over a dark blue one. “Meanwhile, it took you thirty minutes to pick out my panties.”
“That was important. I wanted to know what pair of panties I would be tearing away.”
She shook her head and checked out a black suit. “Just pick the wig, and then give me some clothes. I’m over here naked and waiting.”
“You have on a robe.”
“I’m naked under it.”
“Take off the robe. I like you naked.” I stroked the wig.
She sighed. “Put the wig down. You look like an evil villain stroking his wicked cat.”
“How can I pick your clothes, if I do not know the wig?”
“You are being so extra right now.”
I smirked. “What is this wig’s name?”
“Raquel.”
I lifted the top of the wig off the mannequin head and peered under it. “And you said this is the. . .lace part of the wig? The part that keeps it all together—”
“Kaz.” She turned my way and put her hand on her hips. “We are not doing a symposium on wigs.”
“It was a simple question.”
“Okay.” She gave me a skeptical look. “Yes. That is the lace.”
“The base?”
“Yes.”
“But, you said that there were different types of bases.”
“I did.”
“Which one is this?”
“This one is French Drawn.”
“But you said there is a Glass Silk one. That sounded more expensive. Glass. It must cost more.”
She sighed. “Glass Silk is a very soft and fine material that creates a realistic scalp color and effect.”
“Then, why get the French Drawn instead of the—”
“Because in my opinion French Drawn gives the most natural look.”
I leaned my head to the side. “How?”
“It creates the appearance of growth at the scalp and allows for parting anywhere.” She pointed at me. “And this is why I didn’t want to start with the questions because you will keep on going, and we will be in here for five hours talking about wigs.”