Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I didn’t plan on telling her all of that this morning, but once I started, I found it difficult to stop. There was something absurdly easy about talking to her, as though all the time I’ve spent locking down my emotions and my history meant it was ready to burst out with the right person.
And she’s the right person.
Hell, she’s the only person who matters.
I did my best not to obsess over her today, but the memory of her compliant body and her bouncy breasts was all too fresh in my mind. The way she creamed all over my dick, finally giving in to her deepest desires, the way she shivered for me…
It all plays in my mind, nonstop, as I climb from my jet black Ferrari and make my way up the steps to my estate.
My butler greets me at the door.
“Any dinner, sir?” he asks, a loyal man named Jenkins, his mustache a thick mark of pride on his upper lip.
“No,” I tell him. “Not yet, anyway. I’ll call you or let the kitchen know through the app.”
“Very good, sir,” he says. “Can I assist you in any other way?”
“No, you can take the rest of the evening off,” I say. “I’m sure you want to see your family.”
He bows at the waist, a practice he has continued even after I told him it wasn’t necessary. Jenkins is a stickler for professional conduct.
“Thank you, sir.”
I walk through my mansion, past the art hanging from the walls, over the fur rugs, past the marble statues – made in the Roman style – and finally up the stairs and down the hallway that will take me to Aida’s room. I don’t even pretend that I have to think about where I’m going to go.
It’s her.
It can only be her.
I feel my manhood getting harder the closer I get to her room, tension moving with savage intensity through every part of me.
I pause outside her bedroom door when I hear it, the soft singing voice of an angel, the same singing that ushered from between her fuck-me-now lips when I made her squirt in the ensuite.
I stop and lean in closer, letting the sound drift over me, unable to stop my lips from twitching into something like a smile.
It’s so easy to imagine her singing that way to our children, standing over a newborn’s crib with her body still curvy and juicy from childbirth, ready to be taken and impregnated again.
Again.
Because I’m sure she’s already pregnant.
Her body was too willing to take every inch of me not to be. She was desperate for my seed. She fucking shivered for it, the sexy little thing.
I imagine her clutching the edge of the crib and leaning down, singing my son or daughter to sleep, her smile so bright I can’t help but mirror it, feeling unashamedly happy for the first time in my life.
She can gift that to me, I sense.
Happiness like I’ve never felt before.
She cuts off when Jackal starts sniffing around at the bottom of the door, the Great Dane making loud huffing noises as he tries to greet me.
“What is it, boy?” Aida calls from the other side of the door.
I fucking love when she sounds like that, all perky and confused like she doesn’t know that any moment I’m going to surge in there and savage her like the personal slut she is.
But just mine.
Always mine.
I open the door slowly, trying to tame my breathing.
But that swiftly becomes a fool’s errand when I see that she’s wearing the pajama shorts and tank top I ordered for her. The shorts tuck right up her ass and her pussy, marking her flesh right there for the taking. Her breasts are braless, her nipples as perky as a dream through the material of the tank top.
“Aida,” I snarl. “You better not have—”
“I changed into this when I came back to my room,” she assures me, with one of her sassy grins. “Don’t worry. I wore a cardboard box any time I left my room. Okay? Happy now?”
I rush across the room and bring my hand to her throat, tenderly, a lover’s kiss of a touch.
She gasps as I caress the soft skin of her neck, and then slide my hand down her side, over her hip, and grab myself a big fistful of her thigh.
I squeeze until she whimpers and I can see that lust dancing across her bright eyes.
“Not in front of Jackal,” she moans. “That’s just weird.”
“I’d never do anything like that in front of him,” I growl. “But I can have him gone in a second. Then I’ll be free to take you like the personal fuck goddess you are.”
“W-wait,” she whimpers. “I’ve …”
“You’ve what?” I snap.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” she breathes. “Before we go on. I think it’s only fair after all that craziness you shared with me earlier.”