Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
However, I can’t treat her like she’s one of my men. That is one lesson I need to learn, and I do it grudgingly.
“I want to go ashore today, enjoy the beach, maybe walk around town and shop a bit.”
“You like to shop?” A smirk lights up her face, and it’s fucking adorable.
I run my hand through my sleep-tousled hair.“No, but I assume you do.”
She snorts around her coffee.“Just because I am a woman, you think I like shopping. Sexist.”
“Am I wrong?”
She hesitates.“No, but still. I only like to because I enjoy collecting little trinkets.”
“I won’t make you apologize for that one.” I sit next to her, running my thumb over the rim of the coffee mug. Her eyes are steady on the water, and I take in her profile. It’s perfect. Her nose slightly curves up at the tip, and her lips are the most enticing fucking pout. I want my cock between them so damn badly, and I plan to do that tonight.
Her curves are being hugged beautifully by a silky material. It’s a nightgown with lace trim and a slit up the thigh. Looking at it, I can’t help what I do. It’s as if I’m a man possessed as I lean down and nip at the thick flesh, then I stand after she gives me a satisfying yelp.
“Nico?”
“I want your body tonight. I want you to fucking suffocate me between those thighs.”
She gasps, and I reach down for her hand and grab it as she watches me with lustful eyes. Placing it on my hard cock over my gray sweats, I jerk in her palm when she lets out a gasp, and the distinct moan that follows it makes my cock twitch once again.
“Be a good girl, and we can have a really good night, principessa.”
“Maybe I want it now and don’t want to wait,” she purrs.
I grin devilishly at my insatiable bride.“Good girls wait, and good girls get rewarded. Are you going to behave today, wife?”
Nodding eagerly, she bites her lip.
Reaching up, I pull her lip free. “Be gentle with that mouth for now. I will be fucking you so hard tonight you’ll bite it to the point of bleeding.”
Her thighs rub together.“I’ll behave, il mio re.”
Emelia calls me her king in Italian, and she has no idea I am diesel right now, and she’s carelessly playing with fire. My desire is going to burn us both alive. Add in the anger we use to fuck, along with the layers upon layers of need, and we just can’t get enough. I’ve fucked in dirty ways, but with Emelia, it’s almost like we try to one-up the kinkiest thing we did the time before. I want to fucking destroy her, and she wants to wreck me.
What a beautiful damn disaster we are.
I walk away from Emelia before the entire staff gets to witness me fuck her, because then I would have to put bullets between their eyes for seeing her that way. We make our way to the breakfast table inside the glass observation deck, the breeze of the morning still coming in through the opening. It's going to be a nice day, the perfect setting for a day on land shopping and eating the finest cuisine.
And as if my thoughts conjured him, my chef sets our plates in front of us.
“Oh, thank you, Ricardo, but I’ll just stick with what I originally wanted,” Emelia tells him.
“No, you need food. Whatever diet you’re on, you can kick that shit.”
Looking at me affronted, she crosses her arms. “I get nauseous easily in the morning. I have for years, so I’ve always eaten a light breakfast. It’s not for dieting. Nice way to assume because I'm a bigger woman that I consume diet culture.”
Shaking my head and releasing a deep breath, I realize I went too far and she has a fucking point.“That’s not what I meant, and it has nothing to do with your weight, Emelia.”
“Really? Do explain. I’m dying to hear how you’ll dig yourself out of this one.” She sits back, arms still crossed, and I bring my fist up to the top of the table, an ironclad grip on my control.
I don’t answer to people, and now I’m challenged at every corner, fighting with someone I secretly want to ravish at every turn. I once killed a man because he laughed at my table. Laughed at something I said that had no humor. In fact, it was a very serious meeting. We cut the dinner short, because the food and table were suddenly covered with fragments of his brain and copious amounts of blood.
I then attended his funeral and shook the trembling hands of his parents. Grieving while shaking with fear, because I showed up to watch them bury the man I killed.
“All women are dieting,” I finally say.