Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Do I get a say?”
I thrust my groin forward, and she inhales sharply, her eyes sparkling. “Do you ever?”
Her head shakes mildly, her body alive, throbbing, glowing back at me through the mirror. I have her. But still, I will drag this out. It might kill me, but she needs to comprehend the sheer depth of our needs. I need her to comply. She needs me all over her. “Get yourself ready, lady. I’m taking you out. Where would you like to go?” I give her backside a swift slap, and she jolts forward.
“I get to choose?”
“I have to let you have your way some of the time.” I’m not a complete control freak. And besides, I need her in a good mood today. “So, what would you like to do?”
“Let’s go to Camden.”
Camden? I inwardly groan. I’d rather pull my own teeth out, but for the sake of peace and because I’m fair . . . “Okay.” I can make Camden work. I flash her another smile and hop in the shower, singing to myself as I wash my hair. I can feel her staring at me incredulously, probably still wondering where the raging bull is, and perhaps wondering why I’ve not dragged her in here.
She only has to beg.
But she remains on the other side of the glass, and I can sense her getting more and more worked up. Good. I step out, pull a towel off the rail, and dry myself slowly, ignoring her unmoving form before me. “All yours,” I say, dropping the towel and passing her, feeling her eyes following my naked back to the sink. I smile to myself. Perhaps now she knows what it felt like all that time she denied me. Granted, I’m punishing myself too, but I’ve never known a greater satisfaction than this. Feeling her want, seeing her tenacity. But she won’t just crack. She’ll break clean in two for me, and then the power will be mine again.
I grab my shaver and trim down my stubble, brush my teeth, and leave Ava still standing outside the shower waiting for me to indulge her.
After throwing on some jeans and a polo shirt, I head to the kitchen to wait for her, and I’ve worked my way through a jar of peanut butter by the time I hear her feet padding down the stairs. My phone rings, and I eye it warily, hoping this call isn’t going to put a dampener on my mood or ruin my plans for today. “John?”
“Just checking you’re alive,” he rumbles, and I smile. “And Ava, for that matter.”
“Spoke to Sam?”
“Yes. It sounds like you’re doing a fine job of getting that woman onside, you stupid motherfucker.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re both alive,” I assure him. I can feel I’m under close observation, and I turn on my stool, finding Ava at the doorway admiring me. “I’ll be in tomorrow.” My eyes take a leisurely jaunt down her front. “Is everything okay?”
“’S’all good.”
She’s wearing a lovely dress and, blow me away, it’s of an acceptable length. And there I was thinking reasonableness was like rocking horse shit where this woman’s concerned. It seems she’s cottoning on to how this game is played. “Thanks, John. Call me if you need me.” I hang up and get comfortable on my stool. “I like your dress.”
She takes a peek herself, like she hasn’t seen it, and pulls a cute knit over her shoulders. Good Lord, she really is being compliant this morning. I’m suspicious. “Ready?” she asks.
No, not at all. I am, however, ready to spend all day with her. I’m ready for her to beg me for some contact. I’m ready to fall in love with her some more. But I’m not ready for the moment I find the courage to do what’s right.
I get to my feet and wander across the kitchen to her, slipping my shades on and claiming her hand. I smile as I pull her on. She was expecting a kiss.
“You’re not going to touch me all day, are you?” she asks as I lead us to the lifts.
“I’m touching you.”
“You know what I mean.” Her words are tight. Frustrated. “You’re punishing me.”
I get us into the elevator. “Why would I do that, Ava?”
“I want you to touch me.”
I smile, pressing the button to take us down. “I know you do.”
“But you won’t?”
“Give me what I want, and I will.”
“An apology?”
“I don’t know, Ava.” I don’t look at her, but it doesn’t lessen the burn of my skin under her pissed-off gaze. “Do you need to apologize?”
“I’m sorry,” she grates, and I mentally dance in celebration. She craves me. Even when she’s mad with me, she craves me. I feel like it’s my only defense in the battles, and yet rather than accept her apology, I just can’t help pushing my limits, my ego swelling.