Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Oddly, Archer’s wife and daughter have no one protecting them from … whatever threat lurks around him. But today, his bodyguards hang back a reasonable distance, almost blending in with the spectators.
“I’ll take a black cherry snow cone,” I say.
Archer turns ever so slowly like the smile that swells in tiny increments on his face. He slides his sunglasses to the top of his head. Then, his gaze circumnavigates the crowd, pinpointing his daughter and wife before returning his attention to me.
“Funny. I wanted something last night, but you weren’t feeling so generous. Maybe I should make you buy your own snow cone.”
“Next,” the young man at the concession says.
I step in front of Archer. “Black cherry snow cone.”
As I reach into my purse for money, Archer tosses cash onto the counter.
I smirk and take the snow cone. “I was going to pay.” I mosey away from the baseball diamond.
“I like the idea of you owing me,” Archer says, following me at a safe distance. He’s willing to have lunch with me in public, but hanging out with me at the same venue as his wife and daughter appears to be the line he’s drawn in the sand.
I laugh. “I don’t think you’ll get much for a three-dollar snow cone.”
“I was going to get you popcorn too.”
Again, I laugh, but this time, it’s spontaneous. Archer has a funny side to him. Don’t get me wrong; he’s still an arrogant asshole of a man, husband, and father, but he’s not the worst company.
“You like that? I can go back and get the popcorn.”
“Thanks, but I already had popcorn.” I worm my way toward the school parking lot, stopping at my car under the mature oak tree.
A good ten yards away, Archer’s two bodyguards park themselves and scan the area while he takes advantage of the distance we’ve put between us and the spectators.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers in my ear, pressing his chest to my back before I can open my car door. His erection supports his claim, and so does his hand coiling around me, sliding between my legs to cup my crotch.
I’m grateful for my choice of denim shorts instead of a dress. My brain has no conflicts of interest. I hate Archer’s daughter and wife, so I hate him by default.
My body … it’s not numb to his touch, and that’s fucking unfortunate. So when I close my eyes and concentrate on his hand between my legs, I think of Jack. When Archer’s other hand slides up my shirt and under my bra to my breast, I think of Jack.
“I want to fuck you, Iris. I want to fuck every inch of you.”
Splat.
My snow cone falls from my hand to the ground as Archer thrusts his erection against the curve of my ass.
“Why do you need bodyguards?” I grasp at anything to slow him down.
“Because I’m an important person.” He bites my earlobe. “And certain people see me as a threat. Now, open the back door,” he growls.
She burned down their house. She burned down their house.
Am I willing to go the distance? Am I willing to be the mistress to worm my way into their world only to destroy every part of it? Is this what John would have wanted?
I open the back door, and Archer spins me around so quickly it makes me dizzy—like his mouth covering mine and his hands gripping my ass to the point of pain—like the way he lifts my leg to press his erection as close as he can get it to his goal.
Grinding.
Grunting.
Fucking me with his tongue.
When he releases my mouth, I gasp for a breath. He nudges me to get in the back seat.
“Show me that pussy,” he demands while unbuttoning his pants.
This is it? Right here in the school parking lot while his daughter and wife watch the baseball game a stone’s throw from my car? Is this where I will give him something so I can take his everything?
I don’t have much time to think this through. What do I get in return? If I give this to him, will he toss me aside? For a man like Archer Sanford, is it nothing more than the chase? Will he shift his attention to the next woman who catches his eye?
His dick bobs when he releases it from his briefs. Archer strokes it several times, eyes hooded.
My heart hammers so hard I can’t catch my breath. Swallowing, I fumble with the button to my shorts, hands shaking while shifting my thoughts from my dead nephew and sister-in-law to the dean’s husband. It was just sex. Just my body taking part in something sexual. It was something physical that distracted me from something devastatingly emotional. I didn’t fall in love. I used him to escape. And I don’t know what he got out of the deal. Maybe it was just sex.