Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I could take her jab with the maturity of a man in his mid-thirties.
But where the fuck is the fun in that?
“Five…” she gulps but remains still, aware this isn’t the tone I use when giving her a head start, “… is how many times I’m going to spank you for calling me old.”
“Four…” I wait until the needy scent of her cunt can’t be excused, “… is how many times you’re gonna scream my name while riding my face.”
Her knees curve inward when I say, “Three… is the number of holes I’m going to command while coating every inch of you with my old-man dust.”
She grins during the last half of my sentence.
“Two…” this delay is the longest of them all, “… is the number of people who’ll be standing at the end of the aisle when I make it more official than tattooing my teeth marks on your ass and my initials on your snatch.”
Anastasia’s breath hitches in her throat when I fall to my knees in front of her before adding, “One… is the total number of women I have loved and will ever love.” When she attempts to interrupt me, I mutter, “Excluding our daughters. But they’ll never be women in my eyes. They’ll always be Daddy’s little ladies.”
After digging out the most hideously ugly ring I could find in Procida, I hold it up to Ana and utter the words I’d practiced on repeat the night before she left me, “Marry me, драгоценный?”
When she spots the ring, she laughs so hard she snorts. It is the showiest, most pompous piece you could imagine, but suits our relationship to a T. Many marriages are like fake gems. They can be manufactured and forced before being held together by commitments neither party want, but the most sought-after gems are formed organically by being pressured to the point of cracking and surviving the blast.
Then they’re beautiful, rare, and strong.
The most precious gem you’ll ever own.
That is my relationship with Anastasia.
Pressurized, splintered, but as everlasting as the hideous diamond I slip onto her wedding finger when she bobs her head while muttering, “Yes,” on repeat.
The end!