Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
My husband looked good from the moment I met him, but he’s now a more refined version of himself. I love it. He’s the engraved switchblade to my antique silver pistol.
I’m also surprised how well we get along when it’s not just about the lustful spark of attraction we share. I can be open with him in ways I couldn’t with past boyfriends, and he’s chatty, sparkling with crude humor I enjoy more than my degree in Art History would suggest.
My favorite boutique selling one-of-a-kind pieces made by various brands and independent designers is the last stop on our tour, and I’m particularly excited about having it to ourselves. I booked a personal shopping experience months in advance, but now I’ll be sharing it with my Killian. Maybe he can even help me pick something for tonight?
“Mr. Van der Horn! I am so excited to show you some of our new pieces.” The shop manager, Adriano, beams at me, pushing back his well-styled hair. He’s buff, hot, and knows it, but he’s never been my type because I like guys smaller, tattooed, and a little messy. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re exactly what my parents warned me about. The kind of people not to befriend, so the forbidden flavor is now forever etched in my brain.
“It’s been way too long, but I really had no time to visit,” I tell him, following Kill inside. My feet take me straight for the area where my favored knitwear brands are being presented, but when the lock clicks, I feel at home. Adriano has been working here for the past five years, and while I don’t see him often, at this point he is a trusted advisor.
He stares at Kill’s boots and gasps. “I’ve been lusting after those for weeks, love them with your whole look.”
Now, this is the kind of treatment I want my man to get. I know my way around the store, so it’s only natural he would focus on a newcomer.
“Killian, this is Adriano. Adriano, this is my husband, Killian. Please show him any alternative pieces you have,” I say, rubbing my man’s back in a circular motion. He’s so warm under his clothes. I can’t wait to get them off him, and as the two men exchange words, my gaze drifts off to the corner where, behind a red screen, thrives a different blend of designer shopping.
Right now, I want to buy everything on offer and test it all on Kill.
As Adriano introduces Killian to the store, I take a look behind the screen. The selection of sex toys isn’t big, but like the clothes, the dildos, vibrators and leather cuffs are of the highest quality. I imagine Killian’s legs trembling from arousal. I could use one with a remote on him while he sucks me. Just the idea of bringing a sex toy to my family home—
My phone buzzes, and of course it’s my mother, because I cannot be trusted with a simple shopping list. She might be right this time, but it’s not my fault from now on Jardin de Oud is my enemy.
I pick up one of the dildos, a beautiful sculpture of dark glass made of beads and shallow dips between them. I eye the description at the back of the package as I make my way to the fitting rooms in the back.
Tucked away in the privacy of booths cushioned with red velvet, I sit down on a comfortable sofa and pick up the call.
“Finally,” Mother says, as if she’s been calling me for hours. “When will you arrive? You’re late.”
I frown. “What do you mean? I told you I will be there in the evening.”
“I don’t remember having that conversation.”
Of course. When does she bother to listen?
“Well, we had it, and I will only be there in an hour or two.”
She clicks her tongue. “Darling, your father invited that Dubois girl. Without you here, I’m the one who has to entertain her.”
Oh no. Poor her.
As if I asked anyone to bring me a prospective bride.
They will all die of embarrassment when I arrive with Killian.
“I’m sure you two will find something in common,” I say, and when my mother inhales to cut in, I continue. “Look, the faster we finish, the earlier I’ll be home.”
“You don’t understand, Damen. Your father says you won’t like her, but she’s the stuff of dreams. Any man would be lucky to have such a prize, I told your father this, and he just won’t listen. I think it’s because Uncle Roger brought her, not Dad.”
I don’t know why them squabbling over this woman is my problem.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go, Mom. See you soon!” With that, I end the conversation, and then switch off the sound, in case she tries to call me again. I rise and pad out of the changing area to a scene my mind doesn’t want to accept even as my eyes take it in.