Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
I gasp as his fingers pull down my bra and he takes it as an invitation to invade my mouth and boy does, he ever. His tongue doesn’t take its time like the intruder it is, no, it assaults and commands my acquiesce and I am powerless against it. Unsure of what to do, I close my eyes and try to let the feelings take over and allow mine to peek out. “That’s my girl. show me you are with me, baby. Play with me.” That sounds so elicit and naughty that it tempts me beyond reason. Feeling braver, my mouth follows his lead and the sensual dance between us begins. His hands are warm and gentle as they caress my nipples, pinching them lightly.
“Mmm.” I moan as everything at once threatens to overwhelm me. As it is my legs are barely locked, shaking with each breath I take.
“Damn baby, your nipples taste like strawberry candy. I can’t wait to get my tongue in that sticky cunt.” Oh man. Now I get it. Now I know why girls get stupid and dumb over guys. Why they forget to worry about themselves. I am already getting lost, and this is just the appetizer.
“Mr. Cochran…” I need to stop this. I have to get my head back together.
“No mister here baby. Right here, right now, I am all beast and man, little flower. Your man.” I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t.
“What do you want?” My mind is clearing, and questions are forming.
“You. Everything.” This entire situation is potent. I know men say what they think women need to hear to get what they want. I am a novice and this heady feeling of being desired is overpowering.
“No. I have to go. You don’t know me. This is just...” Pushing him away I pull up my bra and try to sprint out the door.
“You are not leaving,'' he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me back against him.
“Look I don’t know...” he cuts me off his mouth on mine, soft and non-expectant. He disarms me so easily it further confirms this is his M.O.
“Stay. I promise I won’t try anything, but I need to have you here, in this space with me tonight. Please.'' He looks almost sincere. I stare at him for a few minutes, not moving or speaking, just trying to see through the camouflage, but all I can read is…something. Whatever it is seems real somehow, so I find myself doing the one thing I never thought I would do…
“Ok. I will stay. One night.” He smiles and everything in me glows. His smile, his genuine smile is luminescent. It lights him up, takes him from being this formidable figure to a man.
“Thank you, little flower. Thank you. Come. I have a shirt you can wear.” Something tells me once I go up those stairs, I am never going to be free of him. So then why am I still following him? We reach his bedroom and even though I was just in here a day ago, walking in as someone other than the help, I recognize things I didn’t notice before. Like the fact that the room is devoid of photos that are not related to his work. “This will not be our final resting place, baby. I swore that when I finally found the woman, I was going to spend my life with my political career would be over and we would start a family out of the public eye.”
“What will you do if you are not the governor?” I am not consenting to what he thinks my staying means, but I am curious about his plans for the future.
“I have several businesses that are currently being run by my COO’s.”
“Really? Wow! Like what?”
“I own a software company, two banks, a jewelry store and a security company. As a governor, I am not allowed to be at the helm of any publicly traded companies, so I transferred them temporarily to my trust until I am ready to give up my position.” I am momentarily stunned. When we see him on the TV, as the public, we assume we know everything about the man who governs our state, but wow.
“That’s...wow.” I don’t know what else to say. I knew what everyone else knew. He comes from money. His family legacy goes back centuries to oil and diamonds. The tabloids go so far as to say his parents were arranged instead of marrying for love.
“Here baby, put this on.'' He hands me a Harvard t-shirt and walks into the walk-in closet big enough to house me and my sisters. I stand there, waiting for him to turn around so I can change, but when he simply stares at me and begins changing his clothes, it feels like an oven has been turned on inside of me.