Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“My chef is good. I demand the best from the people around me,” I tell her, feeding her again.
“I’m picking up on that. What happens when something is beyond your control?” she asks, her hand coming up to catch some of the sauce which has been caught on her lip.
“That rarely happens. I told you I like—”
“Complete control. Yeah, I kind of got that from what happened in the bedroom and shower.”
I pull her hand to my mouth and suck off the remnants of the sauce she has there, letting my tongue glide around her finger before releasing it.
“Exactly.”
“Am I going to be calling you Daddy before the night is over?” she asks, reaching over and pulling out some of the noodles with her fingers. Her head goes back to let the noodles slink into her opened mouth. My cock pushes up against her ass. I should reprimand her for feeding herself, but since it’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen and my eyes are still glued to the way she’s sucking the red meat sauce off her fingers, I don’t.
“Some have. Others, no. That is completely your choice, as long as you give me what I want,” I reply, watching her feed herself again.
This time she stops before swallowing the spaghetti down to look at me. “Then no thank you. I had one Daddy. He wasn’t that great. And please, can we not refer to your other pets? I don’t want to lose my appetite.”
“Jealous?”
“Just trying to forget the fact that I’m just one in a succession of women for you.”
I let that remark slide because she’s not wrong, even if discussing this with her feels wrong.
“Tell me about your daddy.”
“I’d rather not. That’s another subject that will make me lose my appetite.”
“Is that so?” I ask her, suddenly envious of spaghetti.
She sucking more of them down her mouth and, at my words, she stops when the last of them disappear into her mouth. I grab the noodles this time, holding them over her lips. I hold them a little high so I can watch while her delicate neck stretches up. She sucks them into her mouth slowly, her eyes on me the entire time. She’s deliberately trying to turn me on, even while she’s blushing wildly. The combination is sexy as hell.
“Not like you. I mean, I was talking like a father, but he doesn’t really qualify for that either. He gives the term ‘dead-beat-dad’ a new meaning.”
“I see. And your mother?” I ask her, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way she’s opening up so frankly to me. No games. No hidden meanings. Ana doesn’t do mysterious or coy and I like it. She’s also not trying to buy me with sympathy. Too many women have tried to make me their meal ticket by giving me sob stories. It never seemed to matter that I didn’t really care what their stories were. Ana might be different in that respect too—yet another surprise.
“She split before my father did. Though she did make appearances here and there, mostly when she needed money. I won the lottery in the parental department,” she says, reaching around for the bread. She grabs a piece, but before she can do anything with it, I take it away. She starts to protest, but I pinch a corner off of it and pop it into her waiting mouth, letting my finger slide over her bottom lip, the butter from the bread makes the touch on her lips smooth.
“Who raised you?”
“My father didn’t go MIA until I was sixteen.” She shrugs, leaving me to fill in the blanks. Which I do.
“Was it just you and your brother?” I prod, wondering exactly what she will say.
“Yeah. Drink, please?” she asks this time, instead of getting it herself. I get the water and guide it to her lips. She scrunches up her face but takes a drink.
“I’m not really a water drinker,” she says.
“It’s good for you.”
“So’s spinach. I find I don’t like it, either,” she says, her nose curling.
“But water is very useful.” I put the glass down on the table.
“To grow spinach?”
“To make you wet,” I tell her, shifting her body so that she has a leg on either side of me now and her back is against the table.
“I know of other things that do that,” she whispers, biting on the corner of her mouth again, which I’ve come to realize is a nervous gesture of hers.
I reach into the glass with one hand capturing a piece of the ice. I flick the sash to her robe loose, revealing one of her breasts. I put the cube into my mouth sucking it in and then letting the tip out. I lower my lips to her, letting the ice hover there. She sucks the tip, her eyes open.