Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Why don’t you go take a shower, baby? I’ll order us some food and have things brought up for you.”
I didn’t argue, didn’t even say a word as I did what he said. Once in the bathroom, I leaned against the door and rested my head on it, closing my eyes and breathing out.
I was exhausted, but I still felt that prickling sensation of desire along my arms before it settled right between my thighs. And all by just being in his presence.
It was only after I was done with my shower, my hair smelling of honey and lavender, a fluffy white towel wrapped around my body, that I realized I didn’t have a change of clothes.
Ever since leaving the house, I hadn’t been thinking about much of anything.
“Come on out, detka. I have some clothes for you.”
It was as if he’d read my mind. I don’t know why I was so nervous. He’d eaten me out just the night before. The memory caused a shiver to race up and down my spine.
I stepped out of the bathroom and stared at Dmitry, feeling so damn nervous suddenly.
“I didn’t see you after the…” The words lodged in my throat, my mouth refusing to finish forming them. My face flamed at the memory of the last time I saw him.
In the shed, with him on his haunches, his face buried between my thighs as he ate me out and I came all over his mouth.
And he knew what I was thinking about, where my thoughts had gone by the look in his eyes.
When he didn’t respond right away, I tightened my hands around the towel.
Dmitry sat in the small rolling chair by the desk, a bottle of vodka sitting beside him and already opened. He stared at me, his gaze lazily going from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
I felt goose bumps form along my skin, my nipples tightening, my body preparing itself for something only he could give me.
“I know, detka. There wasn’t time with… everything.”
I didn’t know what that meant exactly. I could assume, of course. But I didn’t voice any of that. Instead I stood there in just a towel, now realizing there were two large bags sitting on the mattress, an expensive brand I was familiar with scrolled on the front.
“How…” I didn’t have to finish my sentence because I knew he understood what I meant.
How the hell did you get clothes already?
How the hell did they get here so fast?
How the hell did you know my size?
Instead of asking any of that, I glanced at him from underneath my lashes, and watched as he slowly leaned back in the chair, the shadows still seeming to wrap around him even though the room was illuminated.
I didn’t miss the way he ran the pads of his fingers over his knee. Back and forth. Back and forth, as he took in my form, not even trying to hide how he looked his fill of me.
“Go change, baby. The food will be here shortly. And then we should talk.”
That last part sounded ominous, and I didn’t know why I felt this cold rush move over me and squeeze my heart. I had a bad feeling about whatever he wanted to tell me, but could it be any worse than the shit I was currently in?
I pushed all of that to the back of my mind, grabbed the bags, and went to the bathroom to change.
Inside one of them were a few pairs of jeans, panties and bras, and a couple shirts. The other one was hygiene products and sleepwear.
I was shocked at the little things he’d gotten me, things like the same brand of lotion, shampoo and conditioner, and perfume I always used.
The undergarments weren’t the cheap six-pack wrapped in plastic. No. These were expensive and satin, and my exact size.
I felt a flush of heat at the idea of Dmitry specifically asking for these items. I didn’t know if he had or not, but I wanted to imagine he purposely told whoever had shopped that he wanted these things.
I wanted to imagine it was because he envisioned them wrapped around my body just so he could tear them off.
Once I was dressed in a pair of form-fitted, soft pants and an oversize sweatshirt that hung off one of my shoulders, I padded back out into the room.
There was a spread of food on the desk, take-out bags on the floor. Dmitry was scooping out food onto a plate, but he paused, glanced over at me, and tipped his chin toward the bed. I walked toward it silently.
Obeying like a greedy bitch who wanted to please him like he’d been pleasing me.
Legs crossed and hands in lap, I sat silently as he walked over with a big paper plate filled with Italian. Pasta, meatballs, and a little side salad covered it.