Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
With his forehead against mine, he came, a subtle moan that couldn’t compete with my cries and tears. His fingers dug into my ass, and once he was finished, he gave me a hard smack, hard enough to leave a subtle mark.
I didn’t mind in the least.
“Now are you ready to go?” he asked, his dick still hard inside me.
I pulled down the zipper at the back of the dress and pulled it over my head.
His eyes immediately went down to my tits.
“No.”
He looked at me again.
“I’m not ready to go anywhere.”
I lay beside him in his enormous bed, silky-soft sheets, a log-burning fireplace casting a nice glow across his bedroom. His butler must have started the fire when we were in the parlor, suspecting we would end up in bed at some point. Grave’s thick arm cocooned me into him as I snuggled into his side, his heartbeat my pillow.
I couldn’t stay there forever. “I’m hungry.”
“No surprise there since we missed our dinner reservations.”
I grinned. “Worth it.”
His arm was big enough to wrap around my back and flatten his palm against my tummy. His fingers could span the entire thing. “My staff will bring dinner any minute.”
“You ordered something?”
“No. But they know we didn’t leave the house.”
A life of luxury I would never know, having a house full of people who anticipated every need without you even needing to ask for it.
His phone vibrated on the nightstand, and he glanced at it before he put it back down. Then he slid away from me and got out of bed, buck naked, muscular, and oh-so sexy. He opened the door and picked up a dinner tray off the floor before he carried it to the dining table he had in his living room. Silver platters covered all the food, and there was a bottle of red wine with the meal.
I sat up in bed to take a peek. “What’s for dinner?”
“Steak.”
I smirked. “Do you ever eat anything else?”
“Not really.”
I hopped out of bed and approached one of his dressers. “Mind if I take a shirt?”
He’d already sat down at the table. “All yours, sweetheart.”
I smiled before I pulled out a black t-shirt, something he must wear around the house or during his workouts. It fit me like a dress, hitting me at the knees. The sleeves were past my elbows to my forearms, looking like a long-sleeved shirt that didn’t reach my wrists. I joined him at the table, seeing that my dinner was different from his. There was still steak, but it was sprinkled on top of a green salad with goat cheese crumbles, walnuts, and slices of avocado. I had a soup too.
We ate dinner in silence. His attention was mostly on his food, but he occasionally looked up at me, his visage hard and impossible to read. He had the most beautiful eyes, dark but warm like a fresh espresso.
This had stopped feeling like a job a long time ago. “I’m sorry about our reservations.”
“We’ll go another time.”
“You know, you don’t have to take me out to dinner at all…” I was paid to do whatever he wanted, and he didn’t have to wine and dine me.
“I’m aware.”
“Then why do you do it?”
He cut into his steak and took a big bite, a bite that took seconds to chew. He washed it down with a sip of his wine. “I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“That I’m lonely.” He said it without a hint of emotion, without self-pity. It was a simple statement of fact, nothing more. “And I like talking to you.” He continued to eat like his confession didn’t dig right into my soul.
My heart felt heavy, but my body felt like it was floating in the clouds. “Most men find me annoying.”
His eyes lifted to mine as he drank his wine. “Why is that?”
“Because I can’t keep my mouth shut.” That was why my husband left. I didn’t put up with his bullshit and called him out on all his cheap stunts. “I say how it is…give it to ’em straight.”
He watched me with those intelligent eyes. “You mean, you don’t put up with bullshit.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Of course they don’t like that. They want a woman who lets them get away with sin.” He finished his steak, leaving the bone in the center sitting in the juices. “Most people think I’m an asshole, if that makes you feel better.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I am an asshole.” He drank from his wine until the glass was empty.
“If you are, I haven’t noticed it.”
He refilled his glass. “Give it time.”
I lay in his arms as he ran his fingers through my hair. Large fingers combed through the strands, touching them with a gentleness that belied his appearance. His head was propped on one of his arms, and he stared at the fire with a blank look in his eyes. It was almost midnight, but he didn’t seem tired.