Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Jesus Christ, I wanted to fuck her.
I watched as she walked toward me with a white purse over her shoulder. It looked new. She’d gone and bought one to replace the one that had been ruined. If she’d let me, I’d give her a designer purse in every color. She could take my Amex and go buy whatever she wanted.
“I hope there is coffee with this breakfast we are having. I ran out and need to go to the grocery store,” she informed me. Then, she looked at the limo and beamed a bright smile at me. “A limo, huh?”
This woman and her smiles. They did things to me. I found myself doing whatever I could to pull one out of her. If a limo did it, then I’d buy her a fucking limo.
“I thought it would be more comfortable,” I explained. I left out that I wanted the privacy it provided.
I’d told Six, who was driving us today, to stay in the limo. I wanted to greet her alone.
“You look beautiful,” I told her, enjoying the way her eyes always lit up.
“Thank you,” she replied almost shyly.
I stepped back and motioned for her to slide into the limo. The view of her perfect, round ass teased me before I climbed in behind her. She was looking around at the inside of the limo like someone who had never been in one before.
“Is this your first time riding in a limo?” I asked.
She turned those golden-honey eyes to mine and smiled. “No, but the two others I was in were not like this.”
The Cadillac One wasn’t like any other limo. I didn’t say that or point out what it was. She might question why I had the exact same limo as the president of the United States. Explaining the security to her and why I owned it would just make her ask more questions that I couldn’t give her the answers to.
“Are you thirsty?” I asked her.
“Does this thing make coffee?” she asked, looking hopeful.
“Does Nespresso count?”
Her smile lit up the entire space. “Yes!”
Damn she got to me too easy. I moved over to make her a cup.
“This is unreal,” she said with awe in her voice. “Also, do I call you Mr. Hughes when we aren’t at the club?”
I glanced back at her. “Garrett,” I replied.
She looked relieved. “Good. Calling you Mr. Hughes would seem strange.”
I didn’t tell her that I often didn’t allow women I entertained to call me by my first name. It was a kink thing with me. I liked the control. With her, the only name, other than Garrett, I wanted to hear out of that pretty mouth was Daddy. But I doubted she’d like that very much.
“Sugar, cream?” I asked.
“One of each, please,” she replied.
I took a sugar cube and then added a splash of cream before handing her the cup.
“Thank you. You’re my hero,” she said enthusiastically as she took the cup and began to drink.
I watched her, enjoying the way she was so open and relaxed. There was no flirting or false silliness. She was simply secure in being herself. Had I ever been around a woman like that? I knew I hadn’t. It was part of what intrigued me about Fawn.
“God, that is good,” she moaned, then sat back on the seat, crossing her legs.
My eyes went to the thigh that was revealed as her skirt moved up. I wanted to reach out and run my hand down it before grabbing it and forcing her legs open. Shifting, I mentally cursed myself. My damn cock was hard now.
“Where are we going for breakfast?” she asked me. “And does it have pancakes?”
I smiled at the hopeful look in her eyes.
“We are eating at one of my hotels. They will make whatever you want.”
She gave me a pointed look, then shook her head with a small laugh. “Of course you own not one, but multiple hotels. Oh, what your life must be like, Garrett Hughes.”
She had no idea exactly what my life entailed. If she did, she wouldn’t be in this limo with me. While most women found the rumors about me exciting, I had a feeling Fawn would shut me out and take her camper and run.
“It’s a life where if you want coffee or pancakes, I can make that happen,” I replied.
“I appreciate all the effort. Now, tell me about this island we are going to. What’s it like? Why are you buying it? How big is it?” Her eyes were bright with interest as she turned toward me.
“My broker contacted me about it before they officially put it on the market. It’s surrounded by crystal-clear water, and the beaches along the edges have perfect white sand. It’s eleven acres, give or take. It has one big house and a few bungalows scattered about. And I’m buying it as an investment.”