Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“I’m close,” I whimpered.
He removed his hand from my lips, swallowing my moans as we kissed. His warm cum filled the condom as he came inside of me.
We both trembled in each other’s arms, sweaty and shattered by our orgasms. For a long moment, we just held each other, his forehead resting atop of my shoulder.
His hard breaths shot down my spine.
Neither of us wanted to move.
To return to the real world.
“I’m going to combust here.” Pee Lady smacked the door again. “That’s it. If you don’t open up right now, I swear I’m calling the manager.”
Zach and I stared at each other. He withdrew from me slowly, dick half-mast, knotted the used condom, and flung it into the trash can.
I clutched the counter behind me, struggling to catch my breath.
He pressed a soft kiss to my lips before a polite, distant smile took over his face.
“Remember, Octi. You can date whomever you want and sell yourself stories about moving on from me, but I will always be the one to fuck you. The one to make you cum. The one to own every inch of you.”
He zipped up and strolled to the door, unlocking it. The blonde twenty-something on the other side backed up, flustered in her smart business suit.
“Hush money.” Zach produced a wad of cash from his pocket, tossing it in her general direction. “Run your mouth, and I’ll run your life to the ground.”
Ever so casually, he walked back to his date with Eileen.
Leaving me thoroughly fucked, both physically and mentally.
Eileen’s eyes clung to me as I stopped by Farrow’s table on my way back to mine.
The fact that our union was an ongoing farce of Monty Python proportions was becoming more and more apparent. Unnecessary pain must be avoided.
In fact, the only reason I’d agreed to this dinner was to cancel the engagement and map out damage control.
The dudebro in the Lacoste polo peered up at me from his pasta dish, grinning with tomato-stained teeth.
“Shit. It’s you.” His eyes lit up. “Man, I’ve been following your career for a decade. Tried to get an internship with your company when I graduated. I’m a true fan.”
I towered above him, cataloging his face and reassuring myself that Octi could never find a man like this truly desirable. “Unfortunately, I cannot say the same.”
The linguine noodle fell from his lips.
I buttoned my blazer with one hand. “Now, let me tell you how the rest of your night is going to unfold if you wish to conduct business in the state of New York. Your date will return, and you will take her home, driving below the maximum speed limit. You will walk her to her door but won’t go inside. You will shake her hand—briefly— and tell her she looks lovely and is the most enthralling date you’ve ever had, but due to the fact that she is severely out of your league, you will bow out and make way for someone who actually deserves her. Then, you will disappear from her life permanently. Now, do you need me to write that down for you?”
His fork fell from his fist to the plate with a clatter.
He opened his lips but couldn’t manage to speak, confirming my suspicion that nothing existed between his ears other than get-rich-fast Bitcoin schemes and fetish porn.
I snapped my fingers in front of his eyes, losing my patience. Eileen was staring, and I didn’t want to prolong this more than needed.
Now that I’d discovered the pleasures of sex, I figured I’d be doing her a disservice by trapping her in a marriage without it. She could find her own Octi to cure her (best of luck—mine was one of a kind).
“Am. I. Clear?” I repeated.
He gulped. “Y-yes.”
“Good.” I brushed lint off my shoulder, a cold smile playing on my face. “Remember, Oatmeal—if you hurt her, if you offend her, if you try to hit on her, I’ll know, and I’ll retaliate.” I adjusted the collar of his shirt without touching him. “Enjoy your baked pasta dish.”
Being waited on, I decided, was even worse than being the actual housekeeper.
The entire weekend at the Hamptons, Zach sent his staff to coddle me. I found myself being chased by people begging to make me another smoothie, draw me a bath, fetch me Starbucks, and drive me around for a shopping spree.
“I have legs, a driver’s license, and agency,” I’d growl at them to the backtrack of Zach’s amused chuckle somewhere in the distance. “Please, for the love of God, take a break. Watch a movie. Treat yourself to something from the pantry. Leave me alone.”
With Eileen gone, a weight lifted off me. She’d rushed off to an emergency patient in the middle of her dinner with Zach and hadn’t returned.
The entire weekend, Andras blew up my phone with texts, begging me to reconsider my position on Vera.