Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“That’s it,” I groan when she starts to bounce with me. “Tell… me.”
“Tell you what?” she moans.
“How bad you want… me to… come on… your… fuck.”
“I want it bad.” She stares up at me with eyes that tell me she’s ready to be fucked, to be owned. “Please, Luke. P-please.”
I fuck her big tits hard as minutes pass, or maybe it’s longer. Time doesn’t matter when I’ve seen her breasts shimmering for me, her moans, her thick thighs, her gorgeous curly hair—just her, every part, my perfect programmer.
I roar as seed rushes up my shaft. I grab my base and aim my end toward her tits, emptying hot seed all over her. It drips down her breasts and clings perfectly to her nipples. Then I stumble back, breathing hard.
The haze in my mind begins to clear as I realize what I’ve done. I arrived here, meaning to have a conversation with her. The spanking, the orgasm, all of it… None of it was part of the plan.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t have sex,” she murmurs, standing up. “I’ll get cleaned up.”
I pull up my pants. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand.”
She stares at me for a moment. “I really don’t think you do.”
That’s where she’s wrong because I definitely do. I’m sure of it now. When she returns wearing a different shirt, I try to make this easier for her. It’s the least I can do after I went—what did she say?—full-on beast mode.
“Jane, you know you don’t have to be ashamed, right?”
“Why would I be ashamed?” she says sharply, and I know right away I’ve probably gone too far.
Years of not dating—focusing on nothing but the business—won’t help a man know how to talk to women any better, but I don’t need to know how to talk to women, just my woman.
“If you’re a v—”
“I haven’t said I’m anything,” she cuts in, her cheeks turning bright red. “I haven’t hinted at anything or said anything or… Do you know how strange this is, Luke? You come into my life out of the blue, change it, help me, lie to me, and now this. You’re, you’re… you’re pretending to know what the fuck you’re talking about!”
I raise my hands, approaching her slowly.
“I’m not a skittish horse,” she yells. “Am I allowed to ask you to leave? Or should I leave? I don’t want to talk about this. Okay?”
She’s walked over to the darkened window, her back to me, her shoulders rising and falling. I can’t leave it like this. I approach her, reminding myself to be civilized and turn off beast mode. She flinches when I touch her, but she relaxes into the embrace when I wrap my arms around her and hug her close. I kiss her head because this can’t all be about physical hunger. My soul aches for her, too.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t plan on going about it like this.”
“About what?”
My hunger for you. The desire that won’t ever quit. My need to make you mine in every single way.
“Everything,” I say weakly.
She turns in my embrace, staring up at me. She’s so emotional and passionate. I don’t want to pile on too much at once.
“What if I told you that you were right?” she whispers. “About what you were going to say? Would that change anything?”
“Nothing,” I tell her. “I meant what I said. There’s no reason to be ashamed.”
CHAPTER NINE
Jane
He tells me I don’t have to be ashamed, but he can’t understand that it’s not shame, not exactly.
It’s more like I’m coming close to something I’ve dreamed about more times than I can count—losing my virginity to the man of my wildest fantasies. He’s the man who’s watched me from the cover of Forbes for three years, ever since the article came out, and from other posters before that.
In these dreams, it always ends with a happily ever after. It never ends with the more likely scenario of Luke leaving me and finding somebody else more suitable, but his body can’t lie. He was rock hard, and I felt his desire dripping over my breasts.
“You guessed right,” I tell him, squeezing his shoulders. “I’m a—”
Suddenly, the fire alarm cuts through my words, blaring loudly. The whole building shakes with the noise of it.
“Is this a drill?” I ask, raising my voice.
“I don’t know. Let me check. Get some sneakers on.”
He takes out his phone, talks quickly into it, then covers the mic with his hand.
“And change out of those shorts. Cover those legs up. Nobody else gets to look at them.”
Okay… possessive much? Should I see this as a red flag? The fact is, I don’t. The truth is, I more than kind of like it when he orders me around like this as if it’s evidence of how badly he needs me and nobody else.