Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
It’s too much. I need him, need to come.
“Yes yes yes…” Each word is a pleading whisper and he kisses me, then drags his lips down to my ear, breathing there softly as he moves deep inside me for what feels like forever. I’m a wound harp string, ready to snap.
“You may come—” he says, and something inside me snaps. My body shudders hard through an orgasm. My knees grip his hips, my nails rake his back. He groans a half-second after me, and his hips beat a tattoo against mine as he comes hard inside of me.
My chest is heaving hard enough for the both of us, and I grip the ties binding me to the bed. Why do I feel so safe underneath him? Why does it feel so right?
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You did so well. You’re perfect for me.” He kisses my brow. My eyes fall closed. I’m tired, and the orgasm worked as a soporific, drugging me. He rises and unties me, returning to rearrange me in the bed.
The sheets and covers are surrounding me in his warmth and the soft scent of his cologne. This is where I belong, right here. I drift. His hands trace my curves, but I’m too tired to feel shy. His thumb strokes my belly. “You can’t leave me, Leah. You might be pregnant with my child.” His words are calm, but I hear an edge of hesitation in his voice, of anticipation. That rouses me. My brows knot, my sex-wrung brain trying to think, but Royal’s right. He didn’t use protection.
You will be faithful to me, and bear my children.
“I’ve been careful with you, but no longer,” he says. “I know you're clean.”
How does he know that? I feel so fuzzy, I don’t even speak the words.
“And I got tested,” Royal says. “I'm clean too.”
“I don't understand,” I mumble.
“You will. I'll make sure of it.” He kisses me again, and his murmur follows me into sleep. “My beautiful Leah.”
Leah
My hand feels heavy. That’s the first sensation that enters my sleep-fogged mind. I crack my eyes open. I turn my hand over from where it’s resting on the sheets, and light flares into my eyes.
There’s a ring on my finger, sparkling in the soft ray of sunlight criss-crossing the bed. My lips part, my breath coming in rapid puffs. The starring gem is a huge princess cut diamond, blinding me when it catches the light. It's set in white gold and surrounded by a whole circle of smaller diamonds, as if one diamond weren’t enough. The main rock is big enough to knock someone out if I slapped them, if I was the violent type.
I scramble out of bed. I’m alone again. Royal left me to nap. The clock reads five p.m. Royal is probably working, or buying me more clothes, or announcing our engagement to the world. He probably thought the diamond on my finger gave him the last word.
It’s a pretty effective argument. So are the faint red marks on my wrists and ankles and the soreness between my legs.
You belong to me.
I have an insane desire to run down to Royal’s kitchen and bake up a storm. I haven’t eaten today, right? I haven’t felt hungry yet, but my stomach’s finally waking up.
Chocolate, that’s what I need. Chocolate will make everything better.
I go to the closet and exhale, trying to pick an outfit from the many beautiful clothes. The ring flashes at me every time I move my hand. There’s a churning in my stomach, something between excitement and apprehension. Annoyance at how presumptuous he was, to put a ring on me, while I was asleep. Nervousness because I don’t know how I’m going to talk my way out of this. A sick feeling, because if I can talk my way out of this, it’s going to break my heart.
I rifle through the sweaters, and pick one out that’s candy lilac, with rainbow threads dripping down the sleeves. I also grab black yoga pants because if I’m going to tell Royal off for putting a diamond the size of a ping-pong ball on my hand, I need to be ready to rumble.
I burst into Royal’s office like a tornado, and he turns in his chair.
His face softens when he sees me, but before he can rise, I point an accusing finger at him.
“You,” I say. His eyebrows slide upward and his lips quirk, like he’s hiding a grin.
“Me?” He looks around the empty room, his expression playful. I like every side of Royal. Protective Royal. Dangerous Royal. Tender Royal. Sexy as FUCK Royal. Royal in complete control. And this, Playful Royal.
On a lesser man, his smile would be a shit-eating grin. On him, it’s just attractive and makes my belly melt.
“Did you think, for a minute, I might want to be awake for the proposal?” I ask, fluttering my hand in the air.