Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
It sits back in the woods, hidden from the road. It’s white with black trim and a matching roof. He brings the car to a stop, and I get out. I wonder how long he’s even had this place. He seems to live at Blackout.
Tyson walks up the stone steps to the black double doors and opens them. It doesn’t surprise me that they weren’t even locked. “I’ve got some work to do,” he says. “I’ll be in my study.” He checks his watch and adds, “You’ve got an hour before they arrive.”
“Who?” I ask nervously. Hopefully he’s not talking about my parents. I don’t mind seeing them at the party where there will be a lot of people. I can try to avoid them or let Tyson do all the talking. I’m not sure I can face my father after all the things he said to me in the hallway closet at Blackout. But here? In this house? I don’t want to be alone with just the four of us.
“I’ve got some ladies bringing you a few dress selections,” he answers.
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Is the party that important?” The Lords have always gone all out for their parties and celebrations. But I’d think they would have the party at the cathedral if it was that big of a deal.
He reaches out and takes a strand of my wild hair between his fingers. I look up at him through my dark lashes as his pretty blue eyes search mine. “It is for us. It’ll be our first public appearance as Mr. and Mrs. Crawford.”
I swallow nervously, wondering what he’ll do before we leave here tonight. Will he have me bend over so he can put a butt plug in my ass? Will he make me wear my shock collar? Or will he make me wear wrist cuffs? A leash? Maybe he’ll take a marker and write Tyson’s bitch on my forehead. My parents will be there, so it would make sense for Tyson to claim me in front of them.
A smirk appears on his handsome face as if he’s reading my mind, and he leans forward, gently kissing my forehead. I don’t know why I whimper, but the action feels too intimate. I’d rather him bend me over and fuck my pussy until I’m begging to come than show love and affection. I think he knows that, and that’s why he does it. He has to throw in a little tenderness with the fucks to keep me constantly guessing his intentions.
“Mr. and Mrs. Crawford. Welcome home.”
Tyson pulls back, and I look over to a man standing in the foyer. He’s dressed in a black and white tux with a kind smile and his arms behind his back. He looks to be in his fifties with dark hair and green eyes.
“Lake, this is William. William, this is Laikyn.” Tyson introduces me to who I can only guess is his butler. Of course, he has one. Why are we staying at Blackout when we could be living here?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Crawford.” He reaches out his right hand.
I place mine in his, and he brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “Please call me Lake.”
Tyson’s cell rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “I have to take this.”
“Go. I’ll show Mrs. Crawford to the master suite.” William informs him, obviously going to ignore the fact that I want to be called Lake.
Tyson answers his cell and immediately starts walking up the grand staircase to where I’m guessing his study is. I look over the black banister and the pristine white carpet. This place is gorgeous. The while walls have different sizes of black-and-white abstract art hanging in various places. There’s none of himself or anyone else from what I can see.
“Please follow me, Mrs. Crawford,” William says, turning and walking down a hallway.
“How long have you worked for Tyson?” I ask, being nosy. Tyson isn’t going to tell me anything, so I might as well try my shot with William.
“Since he was a young boy,” he answers, and I come to a stop.
He worked for Tyson’s parents. I’m sure when Tyson bought this house, he moved with him. Meaning, he probably knew my sister.
“Everything okay, Mrs. Crawford?” he asks, noticing I’ve stopped walking.
I meet his stare. The question on the tip of my tongue is to ask if he knew Whitney, but I can’t get the words out. He steps closer to me, and I break the stare and look to my right. There’s an open door. I frown, stepping into it. There are boxes everywhere. But it’s what I see hanging from the ceiling that makes my heart skip a beat. “Where did you get that?” I point at my wedding dress.
“Your mother had all these brought over for you,” he answers. “I ordered a display case for it. It should be here next week.” William smiles proudly at me. “It was made to fit your dress.”