Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“I love making this pussy come.”
I arched my back and finished before I collapsed against his chest, my breaths heavy, sweat on my forehead when I’d barely moved.
He pulled his fingers away then returned his arm to its place across my stomach.
Warm and satisfied, I wanted to lie there and fall asleep in his arms, but his rock-hard dick was against my lower back, like a rod against my spine. I’d gotten off good, but he had the kind of dick that could make me come again, so I left the warmth of his arms and turned around, supporting myself with my palms against his chest.
His hands immediately gripped my ass, and he guided me where he wanted me, his beautiful eyes focused intensely. There was no playful smirk on his lips. He looked hungry, even angry.
He propped his heavy dick up and guided me down, sealing my pussy around his fat dick. Once he fit his way inside, he released the sexiest moan, like he really did think my pussy was perfect.
I gripped his shoulders and arched my back, moving up and down and rocking my hips, taking his big size over and over.
“Slow.” His hands gripped my ass and forced me to match his pace. “I want to enjoy this.”
We sat across from each other at the dining table. His butler had brought dinner in and set the table while we were in the other room. I didn’t even realize he was there, but he probably heard us fucking through the closed door.
The spaghetti was even better than last time because it was fresher than when it’d been delivered. Sprinkled with parmesan cheese and basil, with just the right amount of olive oil in the sauce.
He ate grilled chicken with sauteed vegetables, a boring meal compared to mine.
“I would be so fat if I lived here.” Eating all this delicious food brought right to my bedroom.
He smirked before he took a bite.
“You don’t eat anything fun.”
“You mean carbs? I wouldn’t look like this if I did.”
“That sounds like a terrible life.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“I think I would still be here if you ate carbs.”
He smirked and took another bite. “We’ll never know.”
His phone was on the table beside him, and it kept lighting up every couple seconds. He ignored it like it wasn’t there, but after so many disturbances, he silenced it.
“You don’t have to ignore it because of me.”
“If it were an emergency, it would be a phone call.” He ate with his thick arms on the table, his shoulders like a mountain range. “Have you talked to that punk-ass bitch?”
“What punk-ass bitch?”
“That ex of yours.”
“No,” I said. “Why would I?”
“Curious to see if he wanted you back.”
“That’s not going to happen.” We were never very serious in the first place. We had a good time together, but he wasn’t possessive of me the way Axel was. He had been borderline indifferent sometimes. He hadn’t been obsessed with making me come. Not even really that concerned about it. I’d thought that was normal, but then I started to sleep with Axel, and now I knew what I should expect. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“If you broke things off with your regulars, they must be upset.”
“Oh, they are.” His chicken was tender enough to slice through with just his fork. He didn’t even need a knife.
“Way to be humble about it.”
He smirked. “You asked a question, and I answered it. Humility doesn’t build empires. It doesn’t earn money. All it shows is insecurity.”
“How?”
“People are humble because they want to be liked. And if you want to be liked, that means you’re insecure. I’d rather be arrogant than insecure.”
I stilled as I processed that.
“You should take that advice.”
My eyes moved back to my food. “So, what did you tell them?”
“That I’m unavailable.”
“And they didn’t ask why?”
“No, they did,” he said. “But I don’t owe them an explanation.”
“What if you can’t get them back once this is over?”
He stilled at the question, sitting back in his chair as he stared at me. “That’s a problem for another day.”
We returned to eating in comfortable silence. Utensils tapped against the dishes. It was quiet, the apartment absolutely silent, the open windows showing the lights of the beautiful city.
“Have you ever been in a relationship?”
“Yes.” He spoke immediately, like that answer was obvious.
“Like, a serious one?”
“Yes.” His answer was quick again. “It was a couple years ago.”
“How long were you together?”
“About two years.”
“Why did it end?”
He seemed to have lost his appetite because he stopped eating. “She wasn’t right for me.”
“So you ended it.”
“Should have ended it sooner. A lot sooner.” His tone was different now, clipped and annoyed.
I felt bad for stepping into unwanted territory. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “It wouldn’t be right to ask you questions about your life and not expect you to ask questions about mine.” He grabbed his fork and started to eat again. “Have you been in a serious relationship?”