Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
"You watch YouTube instead of read?"
"Yes. I don't have the attention span for a book."
He twirls pasta on a fork. “You would if I read them to you."
I stare at him. He wants to read to me?
"What do you like to read? And do you like physical or eBooks?"
He looks sternly at me. "You broke the rules, Quinn."
The slight admonition sends a shiver down my spine.
“What rule did I break?”
“You asked two questions to my one."
"Ohh,” I say playfully. “So my new husband has a sense of justice."
The room chills when he gives me a look that reminds me that I met him because of his sense of justice. “You have no idea.”
His sense of justice is what got us in trouble to begin with.
Adriano swallows his bite of food, pats his lips with a napkin, and places his fork down on the table. Very polite for a trained killer.
When he looks at me, I can already tell that the next question will be loaded. I’m ready. Bring it.
"What's your favorite position to fuck?"
So I tell him the truth, and this time my cheeks don't flush. "I like all of them. I like sex, Adriano. But my favorite? On my hands and knees. On the bed. I like to be fucked from behind.”
“Because you like your ass spanked and your hair pulled.”
Ping. Yep, I’m wet.
“Of course.”
That part isn’t quite true. I like that position because then I don't have to make eye contact with whoever I'm having sex with. It's less intimate, and it helps me let go.
"Noted."
"And yours?" I ask, not sure I want to know the answer to this one.
He takes a sip of wine before he answers. "Depends on my mood." He’s trying to unnerve me, the bastard. And it's working.
Well fuck me senseless and call me a slut, there's no way we're gonna spend the next six months with a platonic relationship.
But that's okay, that’s okay. The only deal is we don’t fall in love. No emotional attachment.
I can do this. I can do this really well.
"Do you like dirty talk?"
“Ohh, daddy, I love dirty talk.” His lips twitch. An almost-smile. I'm getting to him. Why does that make my heart sing?
"My turn. Do you like oral sex?" Hey, two can play at this game.
This time, there is no hinting at a smile. His beautiful lips part, revealing perfectly white, albeit wolfish, teeth. There's something predatory about the smile he gives me.
"Giving or receiving?"
Just that easily I can envision myself laid out in bed with his head between my legs. A delicious thrill runs through me. "Just answer the question," I snap, just so he doesn't see that I am aroused.
"Of course I like oral sex. Why wouldn't I? And yeah, giving, receiving, all of the above. In bed. In the shower, in a closet, at the club. In a car… Yes. I fucking love sex. It might be the only thing that keeps the two of us from killing each other, Quinn."
Now he isn't the only one smiling. "So that's your grand plan for a happy marriage? I get all the money I need, I have to obey you, and you're going to fuck me senseless?"
"Sounds like a perfect fucking marriage to me. Maybe more marriages would last if those were the only rules." He raises his hand, and it's the first time I realize there's still someone standing nearby. Oh my God. We had this whole conversation in front of his staff?
I shake my head. No, I'm not embarrassed. I will not be embarrassed. I’ve had sex in front of crowds at Bella Notte for crying out loud. Who cares about some paid staff?
"Too bad we can't test any of this out." He looks at his watch. “We have to get ready to go.”
Wow, already? I didn't know it was getting late. I'm suddenly nervous, and I'm not someone who gets nervous easily. What is this place going to be like? What are these people going to be like? Am I entering a den of wolves? What is his place in all of this?
Adriano glances toward the corner of the room. "You heard the lady." The lady. Oooh. No one's called me a lady in quite a while…
"Yes, sir."
What did he hear me say?
Wait… what? He heard me say what? The only thing I remember saying is that I like getting fucked doggy style. Fuck my life!
"You like chocolate. He should have already brought it to you.”
Oooh, he's an exacting master. Hot.
Wait… maybe not. That might actually piss me off. We’ll put that in the “let’s wait and see” category.
A few minutes later the door opens, and a staff member brings in a huge platter of dessert with all kinds of chocolate things on it. Cakes and cookies and mousse and chocolates. Little petit fours, and some kind of Italian masterpiece I’ve only seen in the North End. I have no idea what it's called but it has whipped cream and it stands high to the heavens.