Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
She sighs again and rolls to her back. Her small firm breasts and hard red nipples make my morning hard-on throb. I sit up and make my way to the bathroom. When I look at myself in the mirror, I notice scratch marks on my back and a few on my chest.
Smiling, I replay last night. I remember everything, which I’m not sure is a good thing. I step into the shower for a quick rinse off and keep thinking… about her. Us. I should be bored, but I’m not. I should be wanting my space back, yet I’m thinking of buying us a condo.
She’s in my blood—I crave her. Christ, when she came last night, those eyes showed me everything, all of her. And she gave me everything. Her pussy pulsed and dripped her juices onto my cock. Her addictive fucking smell filled my senses.
She’s everything I’ve never wanted and everything I need.
Tossing my towel into the hamper, I brush my teeth and run my hands through my wet hair.
I walk over to the bed and gaze down at her. She’s stunning.
My eyes focus on her small breasts. They rise and fall while she sleeps peacefully. Her skin, which used to have a spray tan, is pale now and her long, firm legs are like silk. Every single bit of her is delicate and graceful. As I lean down for my cigarettes, her vanilla-citrus scent invades me.
It’s probably been over a year since the words have come to me, moved me enough to put them down on paper. Yet I hear them. I grab a pen and my hand shakes slightly with the need to get those words out. Sitting, I write them down and finish in under half an hour.
I make my way back to where she sleeps and gaze down at her. My brain memorizes everything about her down to the beauty mark that put a spell on me the first time I saw her. Turning from her, I know exactly what to do.
I pull on some jeans. The sun is rising. It must be earlier than I thought. The play area looks ready for the party. Eve must have had Dewey get all kinds of kids’ balloons yesterday.
The Avengers, Star Wars, and Peppa Pig are floating around the grass. Lighting up my cigarette, I take that first inhale and exhale.
My emotions are raw.
But I seem to have a muse who demands to be worshipped if the song I just wrote is any indication. Setting it on the table next to me, I watch the sun as it filters in.
“Fuck it.” I grab my phone and take a picture of the three pages of my song, then text it to the one person I haven’t talked to in two years. My fingers hesitate before I send it. Though we haven’t talked for so long, maybe it’s time to let the past go.
I don’t want credit. But I know you’re the only one who can do this justice.
Sighing, I press send and rub my neck. Glancing around my room, I take it all in and it hits me. It’s our room now. Little things like her ballet flats sit under a chair. Her lip glosses and phone remain where she left them on the island. I like all of this and I don’t have time to dissect why that is.
I need to at least check my messages since we passed out. There’s a text from David last night asking if Antoinette needs a bikini for today. A couple from my prospects who’ve been watching the dispensaries, informing me all is well.
The last one from Snipe saying to call him.
“Christ.” I brace myself. I wanted to have one nice day today. Dolly and Edge deserve it. Fuck it, we all deserve it. Pressing on his number, I wait for him to answer.
“Hey, brother. You up?” I walk over to my fridge and grab some OJ.
“Yep. Just got done running six miles.” His voice sounds smug.
“What you got for me?”
Snipe has an apartment on the beach in Malibu. He loves it. Swims, runs, meditates—all kinds of shit so that he can come to work and cut off a man’s fingers calmly. I can hear the waves in the background.
“I did an extensive search on her. All the father’s business partners and enemies are either in New York or overseas, and a bunch are retired.”
“Okay. So, we think the father’s enemies are not ours?”
“Yeah.” The phone goes silent.
“What Snipe?”
“I feel bad for her. She could have been a prima ballerina.”
I look out my window as his words sink in. “Anything else?”
“Just that. She had a future in the ballet world and in one night, her life changed.”
“Nobody gets a fucking rose garden, Snipe. You should know that.”
“True. You want me to keep digging?”