Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
The idea of food seems boring now, but I said I’d get us both some lunch, so I busy myself preparing my staple of steak and eggs. Not exactly a gourmet meal, but it’s pretty much all I eat, and lots of it.
The meat’s resting once I hear the bathroom faucet shudder to a stop. One thing about the downstairs bathroom is that the pipes make a little noise—something I might never get fixed if it means I know when and how long she’s in the shower.
With everything ready in record time, mostly out of habit, I set the small dining table in the kitchen by the window. Listening for her as I sit, I already feel a warm, damp patch where my thick and very swollen head is letting me know what my body would rather be doing. I wait a while, then a bit longer.
Once the steaks are getting cold, I chance it. Creeping down the hall, I gently knock on the door, still ajar. I ease it open an inch after another brief knock, my dick feeling like it’ll explode unless I do something about this pressure.
“Melissa?” I ask gently, craning my neck around the doorway, stifling a groan when I graze my manhood against the stiff brass doorknob, instantly winning the who’s harder contest.
There she is, curled up like a lamb on the bed, dressed in a robe from the bathroom, hugging another one and using it as a pillow. She must be beat. I linger as long as I can before I know I’ll have to take care of something urgently if I keep studying her curves under the white cotton robe.
I’ll never sleep again until it’s with her in my arms, and although my dick might turn blue and drop off, I swear to myself that I’ll only ever pleasure her with it from now on.
I wouldn’t wanna waste a single drop of what I have for her—the babies and a family.
She is everything I’ve ever wanted.
CHAPTER FIVE
Melissa
As hungry as I am, the smell of something delicious cooking and a refreshing shower aren’t enough to stop me from needing to lie down. I’m pulled toward the huge poster bed that feels just as comfortable as it looks, like the dream I’m about to slip into… the bedroom… the whole house.
Mark.
It’s all just so perfect. So worth staying awake for, but the need for sleep is like a drug that knocks me out as soon as my head touches the pillow. The robe I’m still clutching must be Mark’s. No way something so big could fit an average person. It smells like him. His whole house smells like him. Clean. Fresh. Like he’s some force of nature himself.
The subtle ozone scent of the ocean carries in from somewhere. It’s so close. It makes it hard to believe we’re just a few minutes’ drive from the city.
With no sleep for over twenty-four hours, I’m dead to the world until I feel colder, half-waking and finding myself tangled up in the robe I’m wearing and the one I am clutching. It takes a moment for me to realize where I am. I’m not in my bed at home.
The memory of Mark. The airport and the car ride here. The scent of him all over me.
I smile and stretch like a cat, debating whether to curl up under the covers and keep sleeping. The dim light in the room means it’s dark out, and I don’t know how long I’ve slept. There’s a calm in me that’s threatened by my habit of listing off a ton of bad stuff in my mind before I even wake up. I’d usually be panicking about sleeping so late. I’d be bent out of shape about being in a stranger’s house in a strange bed.
My smile is real, building to excitement that makes me wanna squeal by the time I prop myself up on my elbows, taking in the scene of the room and the subtle glow of lights from outside. A gentle breeze blows the fine curtain, the window open just enough for me to hear the waves lapping against some shoreline not far away. I’m pretty sure not everyone in Australia has it so good, but this, today being my only experience, I already feel as if I could stay here forever.
Though the room’s dimly lit, I can make out the clothes I thought I’d left piled up in the bathroom, neatly folded on a chair. I laid out an outfit of clothes from my luggage next to them. It’s not like me to be so particular, but I must’ve put them there.
Curious, I slide off the bed and search the room for my luggage. All my questions are answered when I slide open one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrored wardrobes. Someone has unpacked everything and even laid out some clothes for me, and I’m pretty damned sure it wasn’t me unless I did a little sleepwalking.