Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
She whimpers, and I open my eyes as thick spurts of cum fill her, but there’s only pleasure on her face.
I want to keep her, so I’ll give her what she wants. I have the hotel room tonight with her and I’ll do everything I can. Something to tie her to me. She never told me what she wanted from this drunken deal. But I can give her something I know she’s after.
A baby.
Grace
It’s quiet in the area at work as I sit by myself, my head in the clouds. I’m peeling a tangerine, but not really paying any attention to it.
My mind is on Charlie. More specifically, on the deal we had. I fulfilled my end, playing Charlie’s pretty girlfriend. And Charlie…
Well, let’s just say that his end of the bargain was met when he made me orgasm three times in a row. A blush hits my cheeks just thinking about it. That man does things to me. I’ve completely fallen for him. Even though I know I shouldn’t have, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
A piece of the tangerine finds its way into my mouth as I stare absently at some poster on the wall.
So I guess that since we've both held up our ends of the bargain, it’s over even though he did ask me to stay a little longer for appearances. I don’t want to play games anymore, and that’s all this is to him. It’s fun and a good time. I agree with all that. But if that’s all this is, I need to salvage what’s left of my heart.
Showing up at the bar, waiting for him to call it quits is just torture. He’s just stringing me along. I sit back and sigh. I don’t want it to be over. I want anything but that, really. I want a commitment. I want more with him.
And that’s my fault.
Facing him and asking for more is only going to leave me alone and brokenhearted even sooner. So my choices are:
Rip that band aid off, asking for more and having him end it like I know he will.
I can play along for a little while, but that only makes me more pathetic and it’s only going to hurt that much worse.
As I stand up, rolling my eyes, I throw the peel of the tangerine in the trash and shove each section in one by one.
Sarah, my immediate boss, sticks her head in the break room. She’s redheaded like me and big-boned, but she always dresses like she’s on an Italian runway. In short, she’s gorgeous. Today she’s wearing a black boat neck dress that looks like it cost a million dollars from the way it flatters her frame.
“Hey, Grace.” She’s cheery as always as she steps into the room.
“Hey,” I greet her with a forced smile. I shouldn’t feel bad for my afternoon break, everyone takes them. Still, I feel the need to defend myself. “I’m just on my way back to work.”
“Do you have a minute? Jack and I would like to talk to you in his office.”
I stare at her. Jack Holt is one of the partners at our firm. I’ve literally only talked to him at Christmas, when he’s handing out holiday bonus checks. My heartbeat picks up with anxiety at the thought of having a meeting with him.
I rack my brain to figure out what he could possibly want to talk to me about. A new project? But no, he isn’t usually involved on that level.
This is looking really, really bad. I swallow the lump in my throat, searching Sarah’s face for a clue, but there’s nothing there.
“Uhh… sure.” My forced smile falls but I do my best to keep it in place.
“It’s nothing bad. Stop looking like I’m taking you to see the grim reaper,” Sarah jokes and I laugh in return but only because it’s obligatory. “Come on.”
Does being fired count as bad? I wonder, trying to calm down. The last of my tangerine gets tossed in the trash and I follow Sarah across the main room where everybody works. Unlike me, most of the employees don’t put their heads down while they work, so a few eyes follow me across the room. I glimpse Diane trying to make eye contact with me, but I avoid it. I haven’t talked to her since the wedding… which she didn’t attend.
Sarah leads me to a corner office, where she pauses to knock on the door. I fidget, wiping my hands off on my shirt and trying to stay calm. Sarah wouldn’t lie to me.
“Come in,” Jack calls through the door and we enter, my legs feeling like jello. Sarah shuts the door behind me, increasing my paranoia that I’m about to be fired.
“Grace, hi,” Jack says, standing up from behind his large espresso desk that’s littered with paperwork. He’s in his fifties, well dressed, and tanned as a nut from long days on his yacht. “Please sit,” he gestures to one of two chairs in front of his desk.