Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
She was in the kitchen—buck naked. She just filled her wineglass and took a drink, sexy tits on display. She wore a cheeky smile, like she enjoyed catching someone like me off guard. “Would you like a drink?”
I slowly walked to her, came around the kitchen island until we were close together.
“Yes.” I took the wineglass from her hand and took a drink.
She watched me, her nipples hard from the draft.
I tilted the glass and poured it down her body, watching the rivers glide over her tits and to her stomach. Small pools formed at her feet, and her tits became firmer once the cold liquid caressed her skin.
I lifted her onto the counter and kissed her body, lapping up the wine with my tongue, tasting her skin as well as the bold flavors of the cheap wine. I sucked it off her nipples then made my way down to drink it out of her pierced belly button. Lower I went, drinking it from her thighs.
I tilted her back then poured the wine down her front, watching it drip all the way down to her pussy and onto the floor. I moved to my knees and got wine all over my jeans so I could kiss her, so I could taste the wine with her sweetness.
She moaned when she felt my tongue, squeezing my head with her sexy thighs. “Yes…” She lay back entirely, letting me please her on the kitchen counter, the wine a mess all over the floor.
It took almost no time to push her to the brink, to listen to her moans echo off the ceiling. Making a woman come had never been a challenge, but Laura made it especially easy. I scooped her into my arms and carried her to the bedroom. I laid her on the bed then pulled my shirt over my head.
That was as far as we got before she noticed. “What happened to your arm?”
I removed my bottoms, hoping my nakedness would grab her focus once more. My knees hit the bed, and then I moved up her body, ready to fuck her to tears.
“Bartholomew.” She didn’t say my name in the sexy way I liked. It was heavy with concern, her focus totally taken out of the moment. “Answer me.”
I grabbed the back of her hair and tugged her head back.
She stilled at the aggressive way I handled her.
“Later.” I hadn’t fucked her in days, and the last thing I cared about was the cat scratch on my arm.
She didn’t dare defy me after that.
I folded her underneath me then slid into her slit of heaven. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and burying myself between my woman’s thighs was exactly how I wanted to celebrate.
I sat at the dining table in just my jeans as I smoked my cigar.
In my t-shirt, she moved about the kitchen, throwing together our dinner. “So?” She’d hardly waited fifteen minutes before her intrusiveness returned.
I took another puff of my cigar and let the smoke rise to the ceiling. “I had a confrontation.”
“Obviously.” She grabbed the two plates and set them on the table. Our dinner was accompanied by a cheap bottle of wine and a baguette. The money in her bank account should afford her finer things in life, but maybe she didn’t appreciate nice things yet. She didn’t touch her food and instead stared at me hard, prying for an answer.
“You don’t want to hear this story, sweetheart.”
“Why not?”
Because it’s your fault it happened. “Two of my men died in Florence. One of them had a brother in the Chasseurs—and he wasn’t happy that his brother’s death was a result of my inadequacy. A lot of my own men distrusted me, didn’t respect me. So, he tried to kill me.”
Her eagerness quickly evaporated, and to cover the dryness in her throat, she took a drink of her wine. “But you killed him.”
“Actually, I spared him. We fought each other with broken bottles. He got my arm, but I got his throat. Instead of killing him, I granted him mercy in order to earn the favor of my men again.”
“You aren’t worried he might try again?”
I shrugged. “He wouldn’t have the support of the men if he did. At that point, it would just be an outside attack, and there would be repercussions. That was his one chance—and he failed.”
“How bad is your arm?”
“I needed stitches.”
She released a heavy breath. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
“I’m always alright.”
“And I’m sorry…that I’ve caused you such grief.” She didn’t meet my gaze, too ashamed.
“I know you are.” Finally, there was no resentment. That chapter had been closed.
I put out the cigar, and we ate our dinner quietly. She whipped up chicken Marsala like she’d made it countless times. Her culinary skills weren’t extensive, but what she could make was pretty good. She devoured the bread, but I didn’t touch it.