Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“It’s empty,” he says flatly. “I don’t have anyone to share it with.”
“But…what about your family?” I realize I don’t know anything about him—not really. Does he have a family to share this with?
Connor shakes his head.
“Gone,” he says. “All dead.”
“Oh my…” I put a hand to my mouth. “What happened?”
“My parents both died of natural causes,” he tells me. “My sister, Bethany…” He shakes his head and I sense it hurts to talk about. She must have been killed suddenly in some way.
“That’s all right—you don’t have to say it,” I tell him quickly.
“Thank you. I’ll tell you later,” he promises.
We walk down a long corridor—this is the kind of house that has “wings”—with lots of doors. When we get to the end, Connor pushes inside and we find ourselves in a massive bedroom. In the center is a bed with four intricately carved wooden posts. It has a fluffy dark green and brown comforter with gold trim that looks like it costs more than my car. It probably did, I think.
But Connor doesn’t give me much time to admire his bedroom. He carries me into an ensuite bathroom that has a fancy shower stall and an enormous marble tub.
He places me carefully down on the broad edge of the tub and raises his eyebrows.
“This okay, baby? Can you sit for a minute?”
“I’m fine,” I assure him, though to be honest, I still feel really weak. Not like I’m going to fall over though—I can manage to sit on my own.
“Good.”
Connor starts running a bath in the tub. He adds some good smelling bubble bath which foams up at once and then turns to me.
“All right, let’s get you out of that dress.”
I’m too weak to help much, but he does it all, extracting me from the now-ruined dress and helping me out of the crazy harness with the golden ring around my clit. It’s all sticky from my honey and I’m more than glad to get it off.
As soon as I’m finally naked, Connor helps me into the tub. I sigh in delight as the sweet smelling, warm water surrounds me. It feels so good on my aching body and too-full breasts!
“There now, baby.” Connor kneels beside the tub. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” I admit. “But my hair’s going to get all wet.”
“Here.” He leaves for a minute and comes back with a hairclip—maybe one of his sister’s? Anyway, he twists my hair up on top of my head and clips it in place. Then I can really relax and I do, sighing contentedly.
“All right now, let’s get you clean.” Connor takes a big, puffy sponge and begins to wash me. I think about protesting that I can do it myself, but honestly, I don’t feel like it. And I kind of like being taken care of.
“Thank you,” I murmur as he washes me. “Oh!” Because the sponge is sliding over my too-full breasts.
“I’m going to help you with those in a minute, baby,” Connor promises. “And now that you’ve got a breeding belly, your breasts should stop producing nectar for a while.”
That’s good news to me—I’m tired of feeling like my breasts are too full and sensitive and being sticky all the time.
Connor finishes washing me and lets me soak in the tub for a while. He gets me a glass of cold apple juice that’s pretty much the best thing I’ve ever tasted. It quenches my thirst and makes me feel refreshed.
At last he takes me out and dries me off, paying special attention to my breasts and my rounded belly. I can’t help thinking that this is how he would treat me if I was pregnant…which seems like a distinct possibility in the near future, considering how he bred me. What will I do if it turns out I’m carrying his baby?
At this point, I just don’t know.
Connor wraps me in a big, fluffy towel—one of those really enormous ones they call a “bath sheet”—and carries me into the bedroom. When I protest that I could walk on my own, he says,
“Why should you when I can carry you?”
He places me down on the bed and tells me to relax a minute while he takes a shower.
I agree and he leaves me for five minutes and comes back with a towel wrapped around his waist and damp hair. Water droplets are beading on his broad shoulders and muscular chest. It reminds me of how he looked that first night at my house and how I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“You look amazing,” I say frankly. “I mean, I really like the new haircut.” I gesture to his hair, which is considerably shorter than it was when I first met him.
“Oh yeah…” He laughs and shrugs. “I let it get long in prison but I figured I’d better cut it before I met with my company’s board for the first time in three years.”