Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
“Yes. If you had waited until we were at the door to let me know what I was walking into, it would have gone much worse,” he said wryly. He took my hand and kissed it to let me know he wasn’t as mad at me as he had been. “You know…your mother’s house is terribly small.”
“I know. It helped me adjust to dorm life and New York apartments.” I snickered at my own joke. I’d been weirdly proud of my trailer-bound childhood when I’d first moved to the city. You think this is bad? I’d say when Holli complained about our dinky NYU dorm. You should have seen my room back home.
“Would she…” he hesitated, and I knew what was coming. “Would she be terribly offended if we gave her money to build a house?”
“Neil…we have a lot going on right now. We’re buying a house. You’re paying for Emma’s wedding. At like, the least cheap venue I can think of.” Emma had decided to get married at the Museum of Natural History in New York City, and as the wedding planning had gone forward, the totals had shocked me. Emma’s mother, Valerie, had offered to go halfsies, but she was navigating a messy financial split from her long-time partner, and Neil had insisted on covering three-quarters of the total to reduce her cost.
“No, the least cheap venue was Lake bloody Bracciano,” he muttered.
His ex-wife had insisted on marrying in Italy.
I wondered if his bad marriage to Elizabeth had soured him on tying the knot forever. If that were the case, it was fine by me; I could live happily without ever getting married. Okay, maybe I was sour grapes-ing a little. I had just said no major life changes, but we hadn’t even discussed marriage since the last time he’d brought it up, during his chemotherapy. He wanted to buy a house with me, so I knew he considered us long term, if not permanent. But with all the talk of Emma’s wedding, I’d begun to wonder why my traditional—sometimes infuriatingly so—boyfriend hadn’t mentioned the possibility of one for us.
“Don’t buy my mom a house. At least, not right now,” I told him, getting back to the original discussion. “She has a lot of pride, and she doesn’t like you very much.”
“Fair enough.”
It wouldn’t be the last time the subject came up, I knew. Neil hated running into problems he couldn’t throw money at.
We fastened our belts for take-off, and once we were safely in the air and had the all-clear, we unbuckled and headed to the rear compartment.
“No bed?” I asked, trailing my fingers over the tabletop between the two rows of inward facing seats.
“I don’t think we need one yet,” Neil said, unbuttoning the sleeves of his chambray shirt to roll them back. It struck me that he was dressed pretty much the way he had been the day we’d met, except that beneath the open outer shirt, his tee sported the red, white, and blue target logo of The Who. That day at the airport seven years ago, he’d had on a David Bowie tour shirt. I wondered if he always equated classic rock acts of the seventies with air travel.
“I have a game in mind,” he continued, sliding the pocket door closed. There was a little latch on it, and he flicked it down. “Are you interested?”
“Always.”
“Then get naked and get your ass on that table.”
“Yes, Sir!” As I readily complied with his order, he took something out of a seat pocket. A deck of cards. So, it really was a game.
“Is something funny?” he asked, a delicious hint of warning in his tone as he slid smoothly into his role as my Dom.
I shook my head. “No, Sir. Just anticipation.”
“If you enjoy anticipation, then you’ll very much enjoy this game.” He slid the cards from their box and shuffled them between his big hands. He waited until I was completely naked and sitting primly on the edge of the table, then he said, “Slide back, bring your knees up, and spread them. If you’d put your heels on the corners of the table, that would be ideal.”
“But then I’ll be wide open, Sir,” I teased, slowly pushing back and lifting my feet up to rest where he’d indicated. There was such a naughty thrill at being completely naked in a situation where people normally weren’t naked. I mean, I’d never seen anyone so exposed on an intercontinental flight before. Maybe I’d been on the wrong planes.
“While I explain the rules, I’d like you to stroke your clitoris. One finger only, no penetration,” he added sternly.
I slipped my middle finger into my mouth and held his gaze as I sucked it down to the knuckle. When I pulled it out, it shined with my saliva, and I reached between my legs to do as he’d instructed.