Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
And she nodded.
“Yeah, Jonah and I will be able to go back Sunday, we’ll be out of your hair then. Thanks so much, Mr. Martin,” she repeated. “I really appreciate it.”
But it was the least I could do because the thought of this ripe female under my roof for five days made my heart race and my pulse hammer. Fuck, this little lady would be sleeping in my apartment for the next four nights, those soft, creamy limbs relaxing in my bed, taking showers in my space? Chill the fuck out, I reminded myself again. She’s not in your bed, not in your shower either. She’s got her own space, you’ve got plenty of extra rooms.
But the thing is, I desperately wanted her in my en suite. I wanted her in my personal space, I wanted to sample and take this ripe female, I wanted to feel that beautiful body nestled next to me, on me, under me, around me. I wanted to take her again and again, make her scream out with ecstasy, cry out my name as she shuddered with pleasure. But the little voice in my head rang out again. She’s Jonah’s girlfriend! it screamed. Get a hold of yourself, you’re so fucking dirty.
So I took another steadying breath and smiled once more at the brunette casually, like my thoughts had been totally kosher and not in the gutter.
“Sure, you’re welcome,” I rumbled. “Pleasure to have you. My housekeeper’s setting up Thanksgiving lunch for tomorrow, but looks like you and Jonah are going out tonight?” I asked casually, indicating her party dress.
And Alison nodded, flushing, biting her lip.
“Yeah, Jonah’s friend invited us to a house party nearby, kind of a pre-Thanksgiving shindig, so we thought we’d drop by. Should be fun,” she said with a shy smile. “I’m sure it will be wonderful.”
And I frowned a little. Jonah didn’t have many friends from high school, who the fuck could it be? Seeing the question on my face, Ally filled me in.
“I think it’s Jonah’s friend, Sarah?” she asked tentatively. “I’ve never met her, but she sounds really nice.”
I almost snorted then. Sarah was the girl my son had had a crush on since seventh grade, unrequited of course. Sarah was about ten feet tall, towering over Jonah and thin as a whip, the kind of skinny blonde that most girls got surgery to emulate. And Jonah was more of a hanger-on, a groupie as far as I recall, than a real friend to the woman. But I shrugged. Things change so fast with teens, maybe their relationship had morphed as well. And at that very moment, Jonah showed up, hair done up in small spikes, wearing a striped sweater.
“Hey son,” I said. “Nice to have you back.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, barely looking me in the eye. “You’ve met Ally, right? Ally’s my new girlfriend,” he said with a meaningful glance at the girl. She blushed but if my instincts were right, it wasn’t a flush of pleasure. It was a blush of embarrassment, that my son was so ungracious, so small, instead of being the commanding, assertive man he should have been.
But I nodded, calmly taking it all in.
“Sure, we met,” I said in a smooth voice, giving nothing away. “But where are you kids headed tonight?”
Jonah didn’t meet my eye again.
“It’s a party at Sarah’s parents’ place,” he said quickly. “Supervised of course, you’ve known them for ages.”
I did know the Joneses. They were your usual Manhattan folk with too much money, jetting off to Gstaad or the Caribbean on a moment’s notice, leaving their kids with unlimited resources and the run of the city. But I didn’t want to bust the bubble, didn’t want to ruin their first night out, so I just nodded.
“Take care and be home at a reasonable time,” I said smoothly, body relaxed, eyes a clear blue, giving nothing away. “Mrs. Larson is making an amazing Thanksgiving lunch tomorrow and you don’t want to miss it.”
Jonah just let out a gusty sigh.
“Mrs. Larson makes Thanksgiving lunch every year, and it’s always the same, turkey, cranberry sauce, pecan pie,” snorted Jonah. “it’s never different.”
I raised an eyebrow then, coolly neutral.
“I believe that these are traditional Thanksgiving foods, but if you don’t like it, maybe next year we can ask her to make something different.”
And Jonah just pouted, his sullen face like a spoiled little boy.
“Fine, fine,” he muttered, turning away. “Ready Ally?”
The brunette had been silent all this time, watching our exchange while biting her lip, unsure what to say. And it was the smart move, the waters between my son and I were so treacherous and deep that there was no way to navigate them safely, better to leave them alone. So I turned to the girl and said with a friendly smile, “Have a nice time tonight.”