Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
You need to be careful. You have to keep your attraction private.
There are two photos. One is of us in the restaurant holding hands, and the other is of us kissing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. On the back of the handholding photo, there’s an address—a bar in a bad part of town and a time.
Tomorrow, midday… with a note.
Come together, just the two of you, or the photos go public.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jacob
The next morning, I sit outside Madison’s apartment building, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel and resisting the urge to tear the wheel off and throw it through the goddamn window. When I returned to my apartment last night, the doorman had an envelope for me. Two photos and a meeting place.
I knew I should’ve been more careful, but strangely, I’d do it again. I’d hold her hand, kiss her, and cradle her close to me. The need for secrecy and shame is a sickening aspect of this because my woman deserves neither. She deserves for her man to be publicly proud of her, to declare confidently she’s the most perfect woman alive, which is true.
My phone rings. It’s Madison. I answer quicker than I ever have for a business contact.
“Oh, God.”
Her tone is frantic. That, and the lack of a hello, causes me to sit upright so fast it’s lucky I’m not wearing a seatbelt. I’d snap it in half. Ever since the photo, I’ve felt primed, like a trigger ready to pull.
“I’m sorry,” she goes on. “The dishwasher is leaking and I’m terrible with stuff like this…”
“Calm down. I’m coming up.”
I climb from the car, hurrying into her apartment building. I pass a man on the stairs, probably in his sixties, who nods hello as I rush past him. Ridiculously, I wonder if he’s here to spy on us.
When Madison opens the door, I know this is going to be tough. There’s the sound of a cranking, broken machine in the background, but it’s difficult to concentrate when her white shirt is soaked with water, revealing the shape of her breasts. Her hair’s a mess and so sexy.
Despite everything I should focus on—the dishwasher issue, the photos, the possible blackmail, the implosion of a billion-dollar deal—my balls expand with lust. Heat turns my shaft sensitive, and the pressure of my underwear is suddenly too much to handle.
“Show me,” I say, stepping into the apartment. She spins, and it takes a mammoth effort not to gaze shamelessly at her ass in the pencil skirt.
When she leads me to the dishwasher, I start tinkering. She stands behind me, her arms folded each time I glance over my shoulder. That only makes it more difficult since she’s pressing her wet breasts together.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with it,” she says.
I disconnect it, switch everything off, pull it out, and take a look.
“This is going to require a professional.”
Madison groans. “Mom’s going to be pissed. We only replaced it a few months ago.”
I hate seeing Maddie like this, so concerned with the small things. No, that’s not fair. These aren’t small things to her. This is her life.
“Consider it my treat,” I say, standing and approaching her. “I’ll arrange everything, and hello, by the way…”
Her smile is enough to intoxicate me and obliterate any other thoughts. When our lips connect, she moans, muffled and full of lust. I smooth my hands down her sides to her hips, my favorite place, and I warn myself not to go any further. We’ve got some time before the meeting, but not much.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” She grabs my chest and leans back into my arms. “You don’t owe me a new dishwasher.”
“It’s not about what I owe you,” I say, wishing I could explain, and she’s wrong. Just for being her, I owe her the world. For proving I can feel, can want, can need, I owe her my life.
“I want to help you.”
I always will.
“Thanks,” she murmurs. “I should probably change before we go, right?”
Hunger enters my voice. “I don’t know. I think you look great…”
Driving my hips forward causes her eyes to widen. She can feel how solid I am, swollen with desire.
“You’re crazy,” she whispers, gazing up at me with wide innocent eyes, reminding me of her virginity, of her destiny… to be mine. Only mine.
“But I can’t do that now.”
I nod, stepping back. Her expression falters.
“But I want to, you know, help you,” she says softly, her words driving more lust into my balls, my seed expanding, the tension building. “If there’s a way I can do that, let me know.”
I can barely force out these words, my voice breathy.
“That’s easy. Get on your knees and tear open the front of your shirt. Show me those wet, big, beautiful tits. Grab my dick and work it with your hand. Make me explode all over your chest.”