Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“This is us,” I explain. “This is my building… well, the top floor of it is,” I add humbly.
One of the oldest buildings in the area was renovated years ago – a classic old, gothic exterior meeting a modern and updated interior.
The original woodwork has been restored. All the way up to the observatory on my floor, the leadlight panes looked like they were from another age.
Toby, the regular valet, is a little slower than usual, hurried along by our aging doorman, who’s giving him a scolding look.
But I only stop to let them both know I’ll park myself and make my way up through the basement.
There is no way I could stand up in public right now, but the heavy tint of my windows and the inch that I move my driver’s side down make certain that neither my hard-on nor Mandy will be noticed.
“Thank you, Dr. de Silva,” the valet says, almost saluting me with his posture, gulping a little as he turns to go. He knows he’s in for some stern words for not being quick enough off the mark to greet my car.
“You live here?” Mandy asks in disbelief, her neck craning as much as she can manage, taking in the breathtaking sight of the ancient structure.
“This is us,” I remind her, driving a few hundred yards at low speed to the underground entrance.
I’m giving her plenty of time to see her new home from other angles.
But I can’t be totally relaxed or at ease until she’s inside, resting that ankle while I think of new ways to pleasure her, despite her injury.
But bare feet and not much to wear are already shaping how I’d like to see her.
Barefoot for now, but barefoot and pregnant is how I’d like to see her eventually.
Permanently.
And in her new home too.
Our home.
Us.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mandy
It’s on the tip of my lips to tell Foxx something, but saying it now would sound stupid.
Seeing as I’ve spent most of the ride home with his fat dick in my hands.
I don’t wanna come across as a prude or appear too easy either, but when Foxx puts my hand right on his baby maker?
It’s like he’s unlocking a part of myself I never knew could exist in the real world.
My internal fantasies of him have been way more involved, sure. But seeing and feeling just some of his manhood makes me shiver at the thought of what I know he has planned for me now.
It’s kind of the perfect time to bring something up. But saying what I need to say, I don’t want to spoil my chances here either.
Pulling up to his building is a bit of a stop valve, letting off some of the steam we’re both feeling right now.
At first, it doesn’t click. But where else would a mature, wealthy, and successful doctor live?
Not on my side of town, that’s for sure.
And although it’s only a few miles in the opposite direction, Foxx’s neighborhood is among the very first you see once you cross the bridge.
It’s the physical boundary between ‘regular’ people and people with money.
I hate to put him in that category, but his car, his watch. And now his apartment?
It all smacks of money, but I’d feel the same as if he lived the next floor down in my own crummy building.
It’s not what he has that I love about Foxx. It’s….
There. I said it.
I’ve never really used the ‘L’ word in my mind, but even after just a few days, and especially since he’s rescued me from the emergency room and cared for me so much already, I think it’s safe to say my crush on the man has graduated to love.
Like it or not, I’ve been falling deeper and harder for him every time we’ve seen one another. Ever since he kissed me, and especially once I see and feel the effect of his manhood first-hand, I know it’s useless to try and tell myself anything else.
I’m in love with Foxx de Silva already.
Mind, body, and soul.
Parking right by an elevator door and ordering me to stay put while he comes to get me from my side, I know it’s also useless to try and be my usual determined self.
Trying to hobble around on my own anywhere near Foxx right now would be foolish.
He’s old school, and that means ladies first. And if his lady has a sprained ankle, then it’s a Foxx-class seat in his arms every time I have to go somewhere.
I do as I’m told, feeling a ripple of excitement across my belly once he opens the door and leans in. Scooping me up and out of the car, kicking the door closed expertly with his foot, he carries me to the waiting elevator.
His face is so close to mine as he leans down to hit his floor’s button that it’d be a shame to miss the opportunity.