Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Scott and Al were now on their feet, staring at him expectantly.
I smiled, ignoring Romeo’s tight jaw. “Yes.”
“Yes?” He narrowed his eyes at me, waiting for an apology, an explanation, anything.
“I enjoyed it very much. Thanks, boys.” With a toss of my hair, I marched out of the cockpit, as dignified as one could be barefoot and in a house gown.
Romeo stayed back a few minutes while I loitered around the snack bar, munching on wasabi peas. Oliver and Zach shared a chess game in the corner, sparing me no attention. About fifty packs of luxury gum formed militant stacks across the table. What was up with my fiancé’s oral fixation? Maybe he had bad breath. A side effect of being full of crap.
Suddenly, rough, warm fingers wrapped around the nape of my neck from behind. I sucked in a breath while my future husband angled my face upward to meet his frosty grays. He towered over me, his chest flush with my back.
I thought he would comment about what had happened in the cockpit, but he surprised me by saying, “Might I remind you, Miss Townsend, that your father confiscated all your cards after you got caught riding my fingers? Your ability to eat, shower, clothe yourself, and sleep under a roof rests solely upon my good will. Govern yourself accordingly.”
“Are you done?” I yawned. “I’d like to sit down and read my book.”
“And I have just the place to put you in.”
He snatched the Anna Karenina copy I’d left on a table and guided me to his recliner. I followed, confused, as he sat, handing me my book.
I quirked an eyebrow. “You want me to stay standing?”
He shook his head no, grabbed my hand, and began lowering me between his legs. My eyes flared. Would he make me service him in front of his friends? Force me to give him oral sex as punishment for what he thought he’d seen with Scott?
From the corner of my eye, I spotted Zach’s hand freezing, a rook in it, hovering over the chessboard. Oliver, too, gawked at Romeo like he’d completely lost it.
I didn’t care if he tossed me out of the plane. I refused to do it.
“No.” I tried to free myself from his grasp, but instead of pushing my head into his lap, he turned me until I faced the wall. My butt landed on the floor between his thighs.
“Here. Now I can keep an eye on you.”
“I didn’t do anything with Scott,” I said, even though I promised myself that I wouldn’t. Anger anchored my lungs, weighing them down until I couldn’t breathe properly.
Romeo sank toward me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear from behind. “You think I’m under the impression you sucked the co-pilot’s cock? If that were the case, he would’ve been flung from the plane through the emergency door. Now read your book and pretend to be a semi-respectable woman.”
No point fighting with him right now. I needed to get to Potomac, recalculate, and strike back.
For the rest of the flight, I sat tucked between my future husband’s legs like a loyal dog. My hair spilled over his thighs. I could feel his stare boring into the side of my face. Every now and then, his hand drifted to the crown of my head, patting my hair, reminding me I was nothing but a pet to him. I loathed him with every cell, every atom, every molecule in my body.
His friends remained so deathly silent, I could hear every time they swallowed. I bet Romeo loved seeing me degraded like this. On my knees, on the floor, reading Anna Karenina with my head bowed down.
He continued sending emails on his phone, but I somehow knew his entire attention was on me. Thirty minutes later, the plane lowered in preparation for landing.
“Shortbread.”
That nickname again.
“Asshole?” Hey, it was only polite to reciprocate.
“It’s been a while since I’ve read Anna Karenina, but I’m pretty sure I would remember if Anna and Count Alexei engaged in praise kink.”
My back stiffened. I said nothing. I felt Romeo lean downward until his chin brushed the edge of my collarbone. He peered straight into the book, his stubbled cheek pressed against mine, and began reading.
“‘… he thrust his cock into her dripping cunt, pushing only halfway, driving her mad with desire and pleasure. In and out. In and out. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Please, I need you to fill me. Every hard inch of you.’ ‘Only good girls get rewarded,’ the handsome stranger maintained, bringing his hand down to her plump rear. ‘And you’ve been very, very bad.’”
First of all, the man could narrate romance books and make a fortune if the whole perpetuating-a-Third-World-War gig didn’t work out. Second of all, I was incredibly dumb to even notice. He was a terrible human. Who cared that he had a sexy voice and a jawline I could cut cheese with?