Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“Right now, you only need to get warm.” A weight presses down on top of me and I make a hoarse, urgent sound, opening my legs so it…he can get closer. Goodness. This man is thick and heavy and warm, smelling of woodsy aftershave. He pushes me down deep into the mattress and I lift my knees around his waist, wrapping myself around him involuntarily, desperately trying to soak up his heat. Oh, it has been so long since I wasn’t freezing.
Wait, though. Wait. The moments are moving too quickly.
I’m in a strange man’s bed. He’s on top of me.
What are you doing, Blessing?
“Who…who are you?” I manage into his neck.
His chuckle is darker than I expected. At odds with his welcoming touch. “I wonder if perhaps you know exactly who I am, angel.”
I search my foggy memory bank. Even my thoughts are slower than usual. How long has it been since I ate anything? Days? “I…are you the man who lives in the big house?” I whisper.
Do I sense disappointment from him or is that my imagination? “Yes, I’m Edison Scrooge, the man who lives in the big house. But you knew exactly who you were coming here to meet tonight, didn’t you?”
Confusion muddles my thoughts even further, like trying to see through a blizzard. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say breathlessly, my hands tracing up and down his back, taking the chill from my palms. “I was collecting money to feed the children…and…and now I’m here…”
“Oh, is that right?” His skepticism is obvious, but his mouth is open and breathing hard against my neck. He tastes me with his tongue and groans. “You are really trying to sell this innocent beggar persona, aren’t you? Drop the act, angel. I know the truth.”
Now, I’m so confused, I can barely make sense of what he’s saying. “What truth?”
Slowly, his hands wind up the hem of my dress. The garment was already around my thighs, but he rucks it up to my hips now, eliminating one of the barriers between our private parts. Now there is only my thin panties and his underwear and oh…
Oh, my goodness.
What is that?
Something big and heavy and long presses to the valley of my sex and slowly, slowly, grinds down, an extended groan ripping up the man’s throat.
Edison.
I’m beneath Edison Scrooge.
The richest man in town—and the least generous, by all accounts.
“Tell me your secret out loud,” he cajoles in my ear, his lower body starting to move in measured rolls that seem to make his shaft stiffen more and more, his hands capturing my wrists and imprisoning them on either side of my head. “Tell me you came here to trick me into making you my wife.”
“Your what?” Now I’m waking up. “I’m only eighteen, sir. And I have no plans to marry. I was simply passing by, hoping for some kindness so I could afford to feed the children at the orphanage—”
His derisive snort cuts me off. “The children at the orphanage. Listen to you. How could you expect anyone to believe such a cliché sob story?” He drags his tongue up the side of my neck again, breathing hard into my hair. “You came here to entice me—and it fucking worked. I’m going to take care of you from now on. I don’t give a damn what anyone has to say about you—they’ve said much worse about me. But I need you to be honest now, Blessing. You’re not going to make a fool out of me.”
Pressure starts to build in my throat, prickles sprouting behind my eyes. “I truly don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
“Edison, baby. Get used to saying my name.”
For some strange reason, I do want to hear his name roll off my tongue. Perhaps because…despite his confusing accusations, he is the strongest, most handsome man I’ve ever seen up close. His close-cropped beard is well groomed, hugging the square curve of his jaw. Even in the dark, I can tell his eyes are light hazel, such a delicate color. They are at odds with the rest of him, which is far from delicate. He’s robust and muscular and…and…that part of him rubbing between my thighs is beginning to feel good.
Really good.
“Edison,” I whisper, that single word causing a languidness to unlock in my tummy.
His thumbs dig into the smalls of my imprisoned wrists. “That’s a good angel.”
My breath hitches in embarrassment when I start to notice a spreading dampness on the crotch of my underwear. Does he feel it, too? I hope not. It can’t be normal. I need to get out of this bed before he notices my unusual situation. I really should go. But he curses into my neck and bucks his hips harder this time and an encouraging gasp sneaks out of me. Before I can stop myself, I’m lifting my hips, begging silently for him to grind me back down into the mattress—and he does. Aggressively.