Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I push him back and go down on him. He lets me, for a minute, two… then he rolls me back around and goes down on me like I’m his last supper.
I let him, briefly. Then I pull him up by the hair and straddle and ride him.
He lets me, but still needs more, so he rolls me to my back and bends my legs around his shoulders, and when he drives back in, I contort with pleasure and let out a long mewl of pleasure over being filled like this. Just like this.
All the time he watches me.
All the time I ache, need, want, dance, hum in silent pleasure. His voice is husky and thick when he tells me I make him hot and that he’s never been so fucking happy or wanted anyone or anything as much as he wants me. I tell him how hot he looks and how I never want to be without him.
When he rubs his thumb against my clit and continues pummeling me—watching my breasts bounce and my chest heave—I come, I come in colors, songs, movements, fabrics. I come in all ways and at the same time in no other way but this one. I come for him and because of him, and as if he knows this yet isn’t satisfied in my complete undoing nor in taking me every which way possible, Ian pulls out and takes his cock in his hand, pumping his fist down his hard length as he climaxes with a deep groan and eyes of twilight watching me, watching me as he rains his semen all over my abdomen.
Gasping as the warm drops touch my skin, I pant and watch his muscles ripple, his eyes flash on me, his jaw clench. I lick my lips, drinking him in, weepy, drunk, scared, in love, undone like only my hot Suit makes me. But I know as he’s finished and pulls me roughly, almost violently, to him, that whatever he makes me feel… I’m not alone in this.
Minutes later, I can feel his uneven breathing on my cheek as he holds me to him, the touch of his hand almost unbearable in his tender possessiveness. “Ian… did you mean what you said?” I whisper, tipping my face. “That you lo—”
He wraps his arm around my midriff and shifts me to lie over him, his breath hot and moist against my face, my heart racing when he answers.
“I mean it.”
“Say it again when you’re not drunk, please.”
“I’m not that out of it.” He eases out of bed and heads off to clean up, then comes back and slides into bed with me. “I’ll say it again when we’re both ready to deal with it.”
“What do you mean?”
He pulls me back to his side and looks down at me with eyes that I can easily get lost in. “Questions, questions, kitten.” He smiles at me, pecks my lips, then licks softly into them. “You’ll see. If all goes well, you’ll see very, very soon. Just don’t quit on this opportunity—promise me you won’t.”
“I…” I’m about to tell him I cannot promise this, but the look in his eyes gives me pause. He’s never looked that determined before. “I promise. But I don’t want—”
“She won’t be a part of it,” he assures me.
Ian
We’ve been waiting for twenty-three minutes and I’m clutching the pen like a man too eager to put his signature on something. Though the truth is, I signed the minute I arrived. Click, click, click.
Mattias Wahlberg clears his throat, his eyes on my pen. I smile at him apologetically and place the pen back on the table. Across from us, Cordelia’s lawyer, Aaron Goldberg, is seated, an odd-looking little man but a good lawyer. I hope he knows there’s no way out of this one except to get this over with.
“Is she always this late?” Wahlberg asks me, tapping his watch and sighing.
I shrug. “There’s no ‘always’ or ‘usual’ when it comes to Cordelia.”
I don’t know why it bothers him; I’m paying him by the hour. Unless he has reservations about today’s proceedings.
“I trust we’re all good for today?” I ask him. “This should be it, right?”
He hesitates and the lawyers exchange glances. Goldberg smooths down the sparse amount of hair on his otherwise bald head and readjusts the handkerchief in his jacket pocket.
“One can never be certain about these things,” Mattias finally says, “but we have a good feeling about today. Assuming she turns up, of course.”
Right. I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. I need to relax.
The door swings open loudly and the three of us glance at the doorway.
Cordelia saunters into the office, taking her sweet time to close the door behind her. She’s wearing an expensive-looking trouser suit, and I notice diamond earrings twinkling through her lavishly coiffed hair.