Trophy Wife Read Online Alessandra Torre (Dumont Diaries 0.5-5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Dumont Diaries Series by Alessandra Torre
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
<<<<273745464748495767>82
Advertisement



But if not that … then what?

* * *

I glance at my watch and wish these women would hurry this meeting the hell up. If Nathan’s fiancée disappeared, that only makes my next step that much more important.

* * *

They finally stand, hugs and air kisses all around, promising to get together soon, flowery bullshit stacked upon flowery bullshit. It’s been, in terms of the women’s shelter, a complete waste of two and a half hours. I sit in the window seat, watching them walk down the front steps, and will them to hurry-the-fuck-up, to get into their cars and off of this property, so that I will be alone with Drew. Today is a quiet day—no Beth, no landscapers, no housekeepers. It will be just him and me, and I plan to take full advantage of the opportunity. Not just to seduce, but in hopes of getting access to the house, my fingers itching to explore Nathan’s office and what he may hide there.

* * *

Drew walks in, glancing out the front windows. “Why are you still in here?”

* * *

I keep the smile on my face. “Nathan is always so concerned with appearances. I thought it’d be odd for me to run to the guest house before they pull out.”

* * *

He nods, and turns away. “I’m sorry for coming into your room the other night.” His words are soft, almost whispered, even though the cameras are off—the security system only activated at night and by his control.

* * *

I say nothing, swallowing, and look out the front window, seeing the cars stop at our gate, the wrought iron slowly opening. He’s sorry. He certainly should be. He’s put me in a terrible position, he’s put my agreement with Nathan in jeopardy, and risked my father’s health in doing so. But this sudden change of conscience is terrible in its timing.

* * *

The cars in the driveway move, passing through the gates and out of sight. I wait until the last one pulls through, then stand. Moving to him, I look up into his face, pulling his face down and forcing him to look at me. “Drew, please stop talking.”

* * *

I can feel his reluctance in every move, his eyes slowly dragging to mine, his body stiff against mine. He pushes away, a hurried gesture, hard on my shoulders, and steps back. “No.”

* * *

My heart sinks, my plan thwarted.

* * *

“Not here. It’s too visible.” He strides toward the back hall, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with him.

* * *

We enter his room, my introduction a blur of cream walls and masculine furniture, any observations lost in the moment that he pulls me onto his bed. Sex the first time was hurried, him demanding permission with his body, my own response hesitant, terrified of the giant cliff that we were taking a step off of. This time I hold nothing back, letting his hunger devour me, his hands placing my body where and how he wants it. And this time, he’s the one who seems unsure of the wisdom of our actions.

* * *

He pushes me against the wall, his hands fumbling with my shorts, jerking them down so he can lift and wrap my legs around his body. He whispers words that contradict his motions. “Are you sure? We shouldn’t…” Then he groans as my legs pull him tight, his body supporting me against the wall, my arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his mouth to mine. I yank at his shirt while we kiss, pulling the fabric up, our mouths separating for a brief moment as it pulls over his head. His hands move beneath me, unzipping, yanking, ripping open a condom, an initial bump of bare cock against the curve of my skin, then it is covered.

* * *

Thrusts. Our bodies on the bed, my legs spread before him, his hips moving in strong, slow fucks that are increasing in rhythm. It is a beautiful sight, the daylight showing me all of the details my dim bedroom hid—his eyes blazing with possession, his chest tightening, the slide of his cock as it thrust, his gaze dropping to watch it, his mouth slightly open in lust. He grips my thighs, holding my legs against his chest, and he releases any control, starting a furious pace that has my body shaking, intensity building.

* * *

Orgasms. Mine while he is behind me, his balls drilling a steady beat on my clit, his hands squeezing my ass, holding me still while he sets the pace, bringing me to completion. His while I am beneath him, his arms framing my head while he thrusts inside of me, his mouth brushing mine, the pace increasing until he grunts, shudders, and then whispers my name, lowering his body to mine, giving one final full thrust that takes him completely inside of me.



<<<<273745464748495767>82

Advertisement