Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I couldn’t have put together a better look if I tried.
My hair had been pulled back from my face in an elegant updo, and my makeup was professionally done in a way that made me look like Aphrodite herself.
Natural, but somehow shimmering, and my skin seemed to glow from within. I was choosing to believe that was from the makeup and not the endless orgasms that Marksen seemed to delight in giving me before insulting me.
He ran hot and cold.
I never knew what I was going to get with him.
Sometimes he was cold, just this side of civil.
Other times he was kind and sweet and even made me laugh.
Then there were the moments when he was inside of me or had his face buried in my core. He was attentive in a way I didn’t think most handsome men of privilege were because they didn’t have to be.
One of the models who also wrote for my site once told me she only dated men who were way beneath her league either financially or in appearance. According to her, men who were attractive or wealthy knew they could get a number of beautiful women, so they were not concerned with having to keep any of them. These men were far more likely to be selfish lovers, and even if they knew the female orgasm wasn’t a myth, they weren’t really concerned if it happened or not.
Ugly or poor men, she said, couldn’t just pick up another hot girl at the bar the next night, so they appreciated what they had and would work to keep it. Even if they weren’t particularly skilled, they took their time and knew how to truly worship a woman the way they deserved.
I didn’t know if I really believed her when she explained her theory, but logically, to a virgin, it had made sense. At the time I had smiled and nodded, I may have even said something about her being a genius and how I was going to try that next time, just so she didn’t realize how inexperienced I really was.
After the last few days with Marksen, I could confidently say that the woman was talking out of her ass.
Marksen was extraordinarily wealthy and devastatingly handsome, but I couldn’t ever imagine sex could be any more erotic or satisfying, and he was definitely attentive and thorough. Even when the sex started out angry and passionate, like he couldn’t control what he wanted and he was mad at himself for being attracted to me, it never ended like that.
But then, as soon as he came down from his own high and caught his breath, he was back to being ice cold. Like he blamed me for pushing myself down on the sofa or ripping his shirt from my body. I just couldn’t read him, and I had no idea what he would be like or what would happen moment to moment.
Like today. He had been kind as we took the boat out. While spending most of his time working on his computer, he had grabbed a copy of Shakespeare’s plays and handed it to me.
Marksen remembered from when we were teenagers that I was in love with all things Shakespeare. He even remembered my favorite play was Much Ado about Nothing. Who did that?
Then he blindfolded me again when we docked and took me to this suite.
Everything with a monogram had been removed.
Even so, it clearly was an upscale hotel room, and I knew I was in the city.
New York had an energy that could be felt from the moment you arrived. He might have kept me blindfolded, but he couldn’t mask the sounds of the city or the stop-and-go movement of the traffic while we rode in the Town Car. The blindfold wasn’t removed until he had me in the suite, where the windows had been covered in a gorgeous, thick black damask paper.
Classical music played throughout the entire suite, so I couldn’t even hear if we were by a subway or the water.
Nothing in the hotel suite gave it away.
But it was too late.
I knew I was in the city. Unfortunately, I had no idea specifically where. I couldn’t tell what borough I was in, or even what time of the day it was.
A few hours after we arrived, two women dressed in skintight animal print dresses that revealed far too much cleavage arrived. They had a few black suitcases with them and looked me up and down with matching looks of disdain.
I couldn’t say I blamed them too much. I was only wearing a shirt that was clearly not mine and I had been in it for almost two days, my hair was in desperate need of a wash and conditioning treatment, and my bare feet were filthy. I was sure I looked homeless.