Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
His large hand wrapped around my neck, and he kept me still as he fucked me, fucked me like he hadn’t enjoyed me all night long. It was another possessive fuck, reminding me that I belonged to him.
Like he’d ever let me forget.
It was nine in the morning when I woke up to him getting dressed.
He stood in jeans and a t-shirt, clasping one of his watches onto his wrist.
It was way too early to wake up after the night we had, so where was he going that was so important? I sat up and pulled the hair from my face, my eyes so tired, I could barely keep them open. “Where are you going?”
“Work.” He grabbed his wallet and phone and slipped them into his pocket.
“On a Sunday?”
“Every day. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He headed out the door.
“It’s the day after our wedding, and you’re going to run off?” I didn’t expect anything romantic, but I was surprised he would take off and leave.
He stood in the doorway and stared at me. “Don’t worry. We’ll fuck when I get back.”
“That’s not why I’m—”
He shut the door and left.
I lay back in bed and felt the fatigue overtake me. I fell back to sleep within minutes and slept until past noon. I showered and got ready for the day even though I didn’t have any plans. Since it was my bedroom, I tidied up the place and fixed the sheets. They were dirty, but if we changed them after every night of sex, we’d need an endless supply.
I headed downstairs to see if Helena had anything for lunch. She made me a sandwich and a salad, and I sat at the kitchen table and ate my food while scrolling on my phone. It was nice to have space from my mother, but it was also strange to start over in someone else’s home. Technically, it was mine now…it would just take some time to get used to.
Esme texted me. Sore?
Yes, actually.
Ooh…good for you. He really must have a big dick.
Sometimes it’s too big.
Girl, don’t torture me. You want to go out and do something?
Sure. Hades went to work, so I’m home alone.
Wow…what a dick.
It’s not like we married for love…
Then let’s meet at the bar. See you in twenty minutes.
I finished lunch then prepared to leave. But on the doorstep, I came face-to-face with my mother. “What are you doing here?”
“Moving, obviously.”
“I thought you were giving us the weekend.”
“Yes, but I called Hades, and he said it was okay.” She would never admit she was lonely, that she couldn’t stand to be alone for even a single day.
It annoyed me that she’d immediately asked Hades for permission when this was my home too, but since she was a grieving widow, I let it go. It wasn’t like Hades and I were home doing it all over the furniture. “Need help with anything?”
“No. The staff is bringing in my suitcases.” She was in a skirt with a buttoned jacket, looking like the prime minister’s wife. She stepped inside, examined the grand entryway with approval, and then turned back to me. “So, how was last night?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Private.”
“That’s not what I was asking. I just meant, did you have a good time?”
“Yes.” I hadn’t been fucked like that in two years. It felt goddamn amazing.
“Where is your husband now?”
It took me a second to understand her question because that title took some time to settle into my bones. Hades was my husband now. That was how everyone would refer to him…as my husband. “Work.”
“Wow, he’s dedicated. That’s a good trait in a man.”
“He’s a drug dealer,” I said sarcastically.
“He’s more of a distributor.”
“Whatever,” I said. “I don’t think that qualifies as a good trait.”
She rolled her eyes. “Give that man the respect he deserves. It’s easy to break the law, but it’s not easy to build the billion-dollar empire he’s started entirely on his own. That takes guts. That takes brains. And it takes big balls too.”
“You’re seriously going to hold out on me?” Esme asked as she sat across from me. “Come on, that gorgeous man took you to pound town, and you ain’t gonna share the details?” Her third glass of wine sat in front of her, and she pried more than usual because her blood alcohol level had spiked.
“We had sex. That’s it.”
“You’ve told me some personal stuff about your lovers over the last two years. And then with this guy—”
“This guy is my husband now. It feels weird to share intimate details.”
“If they’re positive details, I doubt he cares. Every man wants a woman to say how amazing he is in bed.”
He was amazing. With top-notch skills and desire that burned the room around us, he was the best lover I’d ever had. But now we were in a partnership based on trust and loyalty, so sharing details felt like a betrayal. “He’s good in bed. I’ll leave it at that.”