Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I turn on every light in the room as I strip, dashing into the bathroom to freshen up my hair and makeup. I leave those lights on too, for good measure. Grabbing the telescoping tripod from my bag, I toss it on the bed with the phone, then gather up the rest of my stuff, bringing it to the walk-in closet. I set my bag down and pull out the wisp of fabric of my one-piece lace bodysuit. The cut is high on my hips, the edging scalloped. The scallop detailing continues on the deep v neckline held up by the tiniest spaghetti straps. It’s orange, a perfect complement for my peach-colored Porn-A-Thon nails.
Sliding into the bodysuit, I adjust the fabric over my tits and feel for my keys necklace, the only other thing I’m wearing. Perfect. Leaving the closet, I place my phone in the speaker dock on Sawyer’s nightstand, hitting play on the playlist I created for tonight. Then, moving to the foot of the bed, I open the special telescoping tripod I ordered. It’s got a clamp to hold the phone, similar to a selfie stick. It’s a filthy selfie stick, basically. I clamp the phone in place, check the angle and press record. It’s go time.
I open the bedroom door. Sawyer turns in my direction when the door latch clicks, so I extend one arm over my head, leaning against the doorframe, and beckon him to me with a flick of a finger from my other hand.
It’s dark in the living room, but I can see Sawyer’s face by the moonlight flowing in from the floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the length of the room, the William Penn statue visible in the view behind him. But I’m more interested in the view inside of this room. I watch his face as he takes me in. His eyes slowly roam from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and back again. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and smiles, his head tilting in a slight nod before he rises, walking slowly towards me.
He looks a little predatory as he closes the distance between us, loosening his tie as he walks. And even though we’ve been together many times, it makes my heart race with anticipation.
He reaches the doorway and I step back, drawing him into the room before he can touch me. He follows, tie undone and hanging around his neck, hands already undoing the buttons of his shirt, which somehow still looks fresh and crisp at the end of a long day.
I walk to the edge of the bed and pause, one knee brushing the comforter, then turn my head to see what he’s doing over my shoulder. I’m momentarily distracted by his fingers, moving with precision downward, the fabric slowly parting, but snap my eyes up in time to see his reaction.
His eyes are firmly on my lace-covered ass so it takes him a moment to take in the tripod arrangement at the corner of the bed. He stops mid-movement, his suit jacket halfway down his arms, then chuckles.
“We’re making a sex tape?” His jacket flies in the direction of a chair near the door, followed by his tie.
I turn fully and face him, the bed behind my knees, the camera recording, and nod my head. I’d ask if he was okay with the idea, but the expression on his face tells me the question would be a waste of time.
He closes the distance between us, sliding his hand behind my neck, lips crashing on mine. God, I love that move. His fingers are firm on my nape, warm against my skin, thumb under my jaw maneuvering the tilt of my head to the exact position he wants it in.
I moan into the kiss, my arms resting on his shoulders and my hands promptly finding their way into his hair. The pads of my fingertips dig into his scalp, trying to pull him impossibly closer.
He pulls back, and I catch his lip with my teeth, tugging softly for a moment before releasing him. His chest is heaving and his pants are already tight over his erection.
“This,” he says, fingering the delicate strap on my shoulder that holds up the flimsy bodysuit. “You should wear this every day.”
“I bought it for you.”
“I approve,” he murmurs, sliding one strap over my shoulder and following the path with his fingertips down my arm.
It makes me wet, just his damn fingertips running down my forearm. Okay, who am I kidding? My body is in a constant state of readiness whenever he’s in the room. But then he touches me and I’m soaked.
“Buy it in every color. Wear it every day.” He nudges the second strap down my opposite shoulder and the top half of the bodysuit falls to my waist. “Just not right now.”