Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Kinky matters,” A.D. taunts with a waggle of the eyebrows.
Scratch.
Gladly.
I stretch my foot slightly closer to his and allow for a partial shift to occur. One swift slash from my talons shreds his left shoe to unwearable pieces.
“Fuckin’ D!” my little brother squawks in outrage. “These were Italian leather! You have any idea how much they cost?!”
“Now, they’re half off,” Ehette points out in a snarky fashion as he heads towards the door with a whiney A.D. in tow.
The smug smirk I flash is followed by an announcement. “We’ll see you for dinner.”
“Breakfast,” Cameron quietly corrects prior to making a request. “Please lock the door behind you and inform Miss Gibson we will be meeting for a bit longer.”
My cousin nods his understanding while my brother merely continues to complain about his destroyed footwear.
We watch their disappearance in tandem, and the instant we hear the door shut, she slides a bit closer to salaciously run a finger down the front of my chest. Watching the dark-skinned digit work its way past my collar…past my dangling black tie…past my belt…to land firmly on my swollen cock encourages it to kick against her warm palm as I playfully purr, “Miss Pennington, your touch violates at least seven codes of conduct between employer and the employed.” Her grip tightens forcing me to hiss. “And now eight.”
“Bond with me, Beanstalk,” Cami airily pleads, hand needily kneading my dick.
Keeping my eyes from completely closing leaves them in a heavily hooded state. “Pint-Size.”
“Right here.”
“Cami.”
“Right now.”
“Fated Mate.”
“Bond with me, Ptur.”
Yes.
“No.”
My inner huff is almost louder than the one she exhales.
Anxious to soothe a fractured ego, I place my hand lovingly on top of hers, “You deserve what I have planned for the evening. You deserve our first date romantically recreated in our room. You deserve flowers I had designed out of old comic books. You deserve to have Stephanie Mills playing, to see me in the apron I haven’t had a chance to wear, and drink glasses of Inglenook Cabernet Sauvignon while I perform kabob tricks that would have me winning any grilling competition on either side of The Fog.”
Joy and awe spread through her stare simultaneously.
“At the very fucking least, mate, you deserve more than a dirty, disheveled conference room table.”
Cameron’s expression shifts to a sultry one. “You think I deserve more than the place you fought for my honor?” Her full frame slowly slinks into my lap. “More than the room where you made sure everyone knew I was valued and heard regardless of if they were family, friend, or foe.” The shallow grinding circles call my hands to cup her ass. Squeeze. “I don’t think there’s a better place in the entire world for you to have me.” She delivers a teasing touch to my bottom lip. “Or for me to have you, half.”
Logic leaps to argue, yet my ancient side roars in objection.
Bond!
“You know it’s rude to make your Fated Mate beg like this.”
The good-natured taunting transitions whatever connection to resistance I had to that of my darker instinct. One hand abandons her ass to curl around her perfect throat on a growled, “No matter how much you want to, you can’t fucking scream.”
Her pulse flutters in excitement against my palm. “Then I suggest you put something in my mouth to keep me quiet, sir.”
Lifting her by the neck to plop her on the edge of the table is quickly followed by a single yank of my tie to remove it. “Open.”
Thrill fills her green gaze as she watches me ball the material however delicious defiance is what I’m delivered in the form of sealed lips.
Adding the slightest additional pressure cuts off her air supply causing Cami to present me with the parted access I commanded. An arrogant smirk is attached to the smug statement. “Thank you.”
I’m offered a twitched glare and a small thrash that moves her nowhere.
That gets her nothing other than a quirked eyebrow from being impressed with her refusal—even now—to simply submit.
Not sure I could have my mate any other way.
I like being pushed.
And poked.
And challenged.
It always makes the victory so much sweeter.
And having the being of my dreams demand I give her my all each step of this fating has this way of making me feel like I’m the fucking champion of the entire universe every time she merely looks at me.
Shoving the smooth black fabric into her mouth is savagely done for her sake as much as my own. Her sharp teeth, which are now sharper since she’s stopped taking her medication, viciously scrape against my knuckles drawing blood. The tiny red river trickles down my hand, marking me in the same degree I will be marking her, prompting a small puff of shimmery platinum smoke to expel itself from my flared nostrils.
“You like to see me bleed, don’t you, Pint-Size?”