Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 13908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
“Okay. She’s late,” I say, looking at my watch. I can’t stand lateness. To me, if you are on time, you are late.
“Jenny says she’s in the building. She checked in at reception,” Marsha says after setting her phone back down on the table. I stand, ready to go on the hunt for the missing actress, when the door bursts open, and an elaborately dressed woman with long blonde hair seemingly sails into the room. I am struck by her beauty. She’s got to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She looks elegant and graceful, that is, until she falls flat on her face just over the threshold.
“Ow…fuck,” the pile of fabric heaped on the floor says as I move around the table to get to her. I stifle a chuckle at her muttered curse.
“Shit,” Marsha says at the same time, standing but not moving from her spot behind the table.
“Miss Beaufort?” I ask, reaching her and dropping to my knees on the floor in front of her, trying to help her.
“Yes. Stacee Beaufort, reading for the part of Audrey.” I can’t help chuckling at her this time.
“Yes, well, let’s get you into a more comfortable position, shall we?” I should not have said that. Her in all kinds of naughty positions flits through my mind. She thrusts her hand out of the pile of fabric, and I take it. The nanosecond that I do, my skin sizzles to life like I’ve been struck by lightning. My heart beats erratically, and I can’t control my breathing. It sounds raggedly harsh to my ears.
“Ummm…” she kind of moans, and it goes straight to my cock. I shake my head to clear it of all manner of erotic, one-of-a-kind thoughts about the two of us and stand, pulling her up with me. She stumbles forward again until she’s pressed firmly against me. So completely against me, I can feel her hard nipples through the thin… gauze of her dress. She moans softly again, and my cock twitches between us. Her amber eyes widen, and I know she feels it too. The more I stare down into her eyes, I realize that while they are indeed amber-colored, they are rimmed with a champagne-colored circle that makes her eyes appear bright and big. They are tinged with a little bit of sadness, and I want to fix whatever has made her sad. I could get lost in her eyes. For some reason, they remind me of the amber waves of grain lyric in America The Beautiful, probably because this girl is beyond beautiful. I’m fucked in the head. It’s official.
“Miss. Beaufort. I. Apologize,” I growl each word quietly and painfully. Then she fucking smiles up at me, and I lose it. My grip tightens on her hand, and I know that I’ve got to have her. I have to possess her. That primal bit inside my brain, which should have mutated out of my DNA long ago, sparks to life. All I can hear in my head, beating like a drum, is MINE! MINE! MINE!
“Tyson,” Marsha says after clearing her throat. I turn my head to face her and see that she’s sitting back down. She’s wearing a shit-eating grin like she can read my mind. She came with us from Ohio University when my brothers and I moved out here. I thought she’d end up with Tyler, but they are both procrastinating hardcore on that front.
“Marsha, yes. Let’s move along shall we? Are you alright Miss Beaufort? Your face has a welt,” I say, still not letting her go, willing my cock to go down so that I can turn around again. She reaches up and touches the mark on her face and winces. I hate that she’s in pain. The raised welt on her face is already changing color. She’ll bruise for sure.
“Stacee, please. I’m fine. Just… really embarrassed. I swear I’m not usually clumsy or rather this clumsy.”
“It could be the dress,” Marsha offers helpfully.
“Yes. The dress. I think I overestimated the dress. It didn’t seem this fluffy when I put it on this morning nor when I got in my car.”
“You drove in this thing?” I ask, knowing that it can’t be safe to drive in a dress as voluminous as this.
“I did.”
“Right. Can you continue or do you need a moment?” Marsha asks.
“Ummm…”
“A moment, Marsha, please.”
“Right, I’ll just go get some coffees. Miss Beaufort?”
“Stacee. Cream and sugar, please and thank you.”
“Right. Tyson?” Is “right” Marsha’s favorite word or something? I’ve never noticed how often she says it until right now.
“Black, one sugar.”
“Right, I knew that. I was actually going to remind you not to do something stupid.”
“Thank you, Marsha,” I say through clenched teeth.
Marsha smirks at me and then leaves, closing the door softly behind her.
“Something stupid?” Stacee asks.