Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I fall back to my pillow and blink at the ceiling as he gets himself settled again.
My head’s spinning. My pulse is hammering.
“You taste good,” he murmurs quietly in the dark. “Good girl.”
“Oh my god,” I say and roll over, caught between intense need for him and an overwhelming shame. I can’t believe I just did that and, yeah, it was hot, it was so fucking hot, but I’ve never done anything remotely like it before in my life. I don’t know how I feel about it considering this strange situation we’re in and my intense vulnerability—
But he followed my rules.
He didn’t cross the line. Even when my hips were gyrating and he was stroking himself, and it would’ve been so easy to come over here and fuck me.
Instead, he respected me.
A strange warmth floods through my body and I relax enough to close my eyes again.
“Go to sleep, Kat,” he whispers as I feel the heaviness start to take me. “Go to sleep and dream about what I’ll do to you when you finally get rid of all these sharks.”
I smile to myself—and do just that.
Chapter 14
Ford
“I’m going on a business trip,” I tell her the next morning.
She can barely look at me. We’re both thinking about what happened the night before—the filthy way I talked to her, the sounds she made, her orgasm. I can’t get her moans out of my head. I was up at five and already exercised, mostly to work off all this fucking energy, by the time she crawled out of bed. That was the most erotic experience of my life, and I’ve done some nasty shit to plenty of women in my day, but nothing felt the way it did with Kat—the anticipation, the excitement, how beautiful she looked with her eyes closed and her arms pressing her breasts together as she worked her pussy in the darkness of our bedroom.
It was too fucking much and I don’t think I can behave myself if I stick around.
Now I’m making her coffee and scrambling her a couple eggs, and she’s acting like I’m invisible or something, all because she got off to the sound of my voice.
We’re both obsessing and it’s not fucking healthy.
“A business trip? Already?” She can’t even hide her disappointment. I bet she wants me to stay here and talk dirty to her each and every night, always safely on the other side of that invisible line.
But I don’t want safe.
I want to tear her clothes off, even right now, and feast on her beautiful skin.
“Only for a day or two,” I tell her. “I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, I’ll leave my black card behind and you can go nuts on this place. Have your friends over too and show them around.”
“Yeah, sure, I can decorate and throw a kegger.”
“Just don’t get in trouble.” I slide the plate of eggs and the mug of coffee in front of her, and she flinches slightly when my hand grazes across her upper arm.
“Right, sure, I won’t,” she says and the awkward tension feels like it might explode until I finally pull myself away, take a shower, throw some things in a bag, and get the fuck out of there.
If I stay for a single second longer, I’m going to do something I won’t be able to take back.
I’m not the type to let shit fester. Ignoring an awkward subject drives me fucking crazy—I’d rather put it all out in the open and talk about things like grown-ass adults.
Except in this situation.
If I talk to her about what happened the night before, I’m going to want to do it again. And again. And again. And then I won’t be satisfied with words anymore. I’ll need her lips wrapped around the tip of my cock sucking me nice and hard.
But I need to stop before I fuck up and hurt her more than necessary.
Because that’s what’s going to happen in the end: I’m going to hurt her.
I’ve thought about it a million different times and looked at it from every angle, and I don’t know how I could possibly give Grandpop something to hurt her family without hurting her. It just doesn’t work out, and unless I’m ready to give up the one thing I’ve always wanted my whole life, I need to start being realistic with myself.
There’s no business trip. Nothing pressing, at least. My family has contacts in Chicago and I figure it’s a good opportunity to go visit my old friend Evander, another member of the Atlas Organization, a student club we founded and ran together back in our college days alongside our other best friends.
This trip is my way of cooling off. This trip is a kindness—to both of us.
On the flight over, at the airport when I land, in the cab ride to the beautiful hotel I’m staying in, every second of every hour, I’m thinking about her. I’m thinking about that night.