Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“There is only one man I want inside me,” she adds.
I run my hands down to her waist.
She keeps fucking me slowly, and it is exquisitely torturous. My cock throbs as the pressure builds. I bite into my lip. Fuck, this woman is going to kill me.
I press my head back into the pillow, and my orgasm erupts out of me like a rocket taking off into space. It’s so powerful, I’m momentarily blinded by white light. I unleash a groan, and it’s raw and primal because I’ve never felt anything like this before, and I don’t think I ever will again. She rides me all the way through it, milking me with her tight pussy until she’s taken it all.
When I’m done, she softens against me, her beautiful body covering mine, and damn if I ever want her to move. The contentment is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
And I don’t want to let it go.
It’s dangerous how good this feels, and when I catch myself thinking about how I could see this existing in my future, I have to remind myself of who I am and how my life would never be able to nurture this kind of commitment.
But even I can’t deny the allure of it. It has some kind of power over me because holding Brooke in my arms and hearing her soft breaths falling between us calms the chaos in my mind and lulls me into a peaceful sleep. My little lullaby. It’s something I try not to look forward to at the end of the day, but the truth is, I do. It’s why I find every reason I can to spend another night with her in my arms. Even lying to myself like an addict that I can stop any time but knowing deep down that I don’t really want to. Which brings its own complications. My life wouldn’t nurture what this could turn into. Oh, I need a wife, but love? It would be a disaster. I’ve seen what love can do when it’s taken from you. It destroys you from the inside out and leaves you a shell of a man, and in my world, where danger lurks in every shadow, it’s just another risk I choose to avoid. I need my wits about me at all costs. But with Brooke in my life, I’m becoming more and more distracted by her.
Yet, instead of running from her, I feel myself running toward her, which is a big mistake.
Stop it now before it goes too far.
When I’m certain she is asleep, I climb out of bed and leave the room. In the kitchen, I don’t bother putting on the light. Instead, I make my cup of coffee in the moonlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The coffee machine rumbles and vibrates to life, releasing a steady stream of thick black coffee into my cup. The heady aroma hits my senses as I take that first orgasmic sip.
I think of the angel in my bed and smile. I have half a mind to call my assistant and have her cancel the day’s appointments just so I can spend the day in bed with Brooke.
But I decide against it.
No point getting comfortable when this thing with Brooke—whatever it is—will only come to an inevitable end.
42
BROOKE
The next morning, I’m taking my first sip of coffee in the kitchen when Henry calls. “We broke up.”
I press my phone closer to my ear. “Oh no, Henry! What happened?”
“It’s not even anything original. I came home early from work, and the asshole was balls deep inside his PT.”
I gasp. “I’m so sorry. What did you do?”
“What any self-respecting man does when he finds his boyfriend shagging the buff testicle goblin from the gym—I threw a donut at him. Actually, six donuts.”
“Donuts?”
“I had stopped by Krispy Kreme on the way home. He likes the original glaze. I bought half a dozen. But when I saw him bent over Mr. Muscles on the bed, I threw all six at him.”
“What did he do?”
“Pulled on his pants while trying to dodge flying donuts.” He sighs, and he sounds sad. “There was a lot of yelling after that. I grabbed a bag, stuffed what I could into it, and then left. I’ll go back for my stuff when he’s not there.”
I feel bad for my friend and wish I were there to give him a hug. To help him like he’s always helped me.
“Where are you?” I ask. “You sound like you’re in a tunnel.”
“I’m heading to a motel.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Have you still got the spare key to my apartment?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’ll stay there.”
His voice cracks. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s all yours, well, for the next six months at least.”
“So you’re staying in New York?”
“Yes, but I will try to make it back to Chicago soon. I really miss you.”