Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Finally, we make it over to the picture booth and let them take our photo under the Valentine’s Day arch. A keepsake I am going to keep forever. We hit three more booths before both of us are too cold to enjoy ourselves. My mind of course, is on many ways I am going to warm us both up when my thoughts are interrupted by a man in an apron once we enter the B&B.
“Ah, welcome back. I see you have been enjoying our festival. You are just in time for dinner.” Damn. Food is definitely not what I had on my mind.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
FEBRUARY
TWO WEEKS LATER
Washington, DC, is amazing. I went on a class trip in seventh grade, but it’s nothing compared to seeing it with Connall. For one, I can drink now, so bars are totally cool. He took me to an especially old bar, The Founders, where many presidents drank and talked shop. It was a history buff’s dream. I’ve also never walked so much in my life. We went to all the monuments and took pictures. The memories we make here will last me a lifetime.
I love hanging out with Connall. It’s more than just the sex, which, of course, is out of this world. He’s funny and caring. I already knew that, but it’s more than that, really. He makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. Just earlier, a ridiculously hot waitress threw herself at him, and he didn’t even notice.
“You ready, baby?” he asks as I put my earrings in. He told me we were going somewhere special for dinner tonight. I would have been fine with room service, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Earlier today, while he was on a conference call, I went out and got my nails done. I haven’t done that in so long.
“Yes.” I take his outstretched hand, and we walk out of the hotel. The heels I have on better not kill my feet,
“Welcome to Congress Bar and Grill. I’m your server, Jamila. What can I start you for drinks or apps?”
“We’ll take the 2012 Lafite Bordeaux and the bruschetta,” Connall says. I only know what one of those things is, but he hasn’t steered me wrong yet.
“Coming right up. The chef’s special tonight is veal parmesan.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Over the meal we discuss work and what we’re going to do after this.
We continue with more drinks at a club, where Connall stays by my side the entire night. We dance until the wee hours of the morning. His body grinds against mine, song after song. My pussy is so wet, and it throbs for him. On the dark dancefloor, his fingers snake up my skirt, and he finger fucks me right there in front of all those people. They couldn’t see anything, but it was still a thrill. I could feel his cock digging into my ass and wanted nothing more than to take it any way he would give it to me. I would do anything for this man,
After dancing, we walk back to our hotel. As soon as we are inside, I drop to my knees in front of him and pull his cock out. I suck him down my throat, using my fist to stroke what doesn’t fit. His hands are in my hair as he roughly guides me.
“Fuck, babe. You’re such a good girl. Suck my cock, just like that,” he praises. My pussy is dripping, so I use my free hand to rub my clit. “Are you playing with your pretty little pussy?”
“Yes,” I moan with a mouthful of his big hard cock.
“Fuck. What did I do to deserve you?” he asks as he pulls me off of him and onto my feet. He kisses me, and then we spend the rest of the night in each other's arms. My whole body hurts. Muscles I didn’t know I had hurt, but I wouldn’t change a moment of this for anything.
It can’t last, can it?
CHAPTER
EIGHT
CONNALL
We were thrown off schedule because of the snow and now our time frame is further going to be off. I have a client named Bosco Drydak, a robust Russian oligarch, who wants to buy a casino in Atlantic City. I was scheduled to see him in two months, which is when he and his mistress were going to come back from the Alps. As luck would have it, while Feb and I were in the air on our way to D.C. to see Mitchell Bailey, he called, telling me he was already at the casino and demanding I come. Feb is the keeper of my schedule, so I looked at her, and she reluctantly told me we could squeeze in a short detour to New Jersey.
Now we are at the timeshare house I keep here, unpacking, when her phone rings. I am on alert initially, thinking it might be her mom’s, but when she smiles, I relax. The only other person it could be is her sister, January. Giving her some privacy, I walk out of the room and grab myself a water. A few minutes later, she walks into the room. “How is your sister doing?” I pull her into my arms and simply hold her.