Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Now if it was up to me, I’d investigate the Montgomery Trust and ask them why they’ve kept the property for a hundred years,” I advised, leaning against Graham’s kitchen counter with my arms crossed.
“Probably for the tax write-off.” Graham shrugged, painstakingly peeling an orange and handing over a slice.
I stepped closer to him and parted my lips, grinning as he popped the orange slice into my mouth. “Mmm. Well, I’ll do some poking around.”
His eyes darkened with lust. “Christ, I want you all over again. How can that be?”
I honestly didn’t know. We’d literally just showered after round two, and let me tell you, both occasions were very fucking hot.
I’d met Graham on his porch, timing my walk through Hyde Park so I’d arrive on his doorstep within minutes of him getting home from work. He’d shown up looking fresh and fine in a well-cut suit, not a hair out of place, while I’d resembled something the cat had brought in. Just kidding. I’d put a little effort into my appearance, but I was more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt and c’mon, we both knew where this was going. We’d done this dance every day this week.
Tonight Graham had nodded in greeting, tapped the code on the entry pad, and wordlessly ushered me inside before dropping his briefcase and shoving his tongue down my throat. Our mouths and bodies had collided in a ravenous frenzy as we’d hurried to remove clothing like we were on the clock.
I now carried condoms and travel lube packets in my pocket to avoid having to race up the stairs naked to finish what we’d started in the foyer. I had rug burns from two nights ago when we’d stumbled as far as the living room and landed in front of the fireplace. Somehow, I’d been flat on my back, my jeans hanging from one foot, thighs spread wide while Graham had performed the raunchiest, hottest rim job ever.
I’d writhed on his tongue and fingers, too turned-on to do justice to the blowjob I’d attempted to give at the same time. I’d given up and begged him to fuck me instead. But by the time we’d made it upstairs and suited up, I’d been a basket case. Two strokes in, I’d come like a geyser. Graham wasn’t much better. We’d laughed at our lack of stamina.
Lesson learned. I came prepared now. Heck, I’d even worn a plug tonight, so…let’s just say, we got straight to it.
Round one, Graham had fucked me against the wall in the foyer, his arms wrapped around my torso as he’d bucked and thrust. We’d gasped and trembled in the aftermath, gently untangling ourselves and heading upstairs to clean up.
Later, I lay on his bed in my underwear, watching him transform from a sophisticated businessman to a casual hunk at home. But he’d gotten distracted before he could pull on his sweats and next thing I knew, we were rolling on the mattress, sucking face and grinding feverishly. My second orgasm had caught me by surprise.
Sure, I was fourteen years younger than Graham, but I wasn’t a teenager. I couldn’t believe how much I yearned for him. I’d never felt this kind of desire for anyone. It was fierce. We were like kindling, ready to spark into an inferno at nothing more than a glance.
Thankfully, it didn’t get awkward the moment we put our clothes on again. We talked easily about random topics, but our conversations weren’t overly personal. Unlike me, Graham wasn’t a sharer.
New things I’d learned about him this week: Graham slept in boxer briefs and nothing else, worked out twice a day, ate the same breakfast every morning: eggs, toast with butter and jam, and a slice of tomato. Don’t get me started on the tomato. Who the fuck ate tomatoes for breakfast? Gross.
He’d laughed at my ew expression, then proceeded to eat said tomato very slowly, eyes twinkling over his fork while I’d sipped coffee and tried to think of interesting tidbits to share. Stupid trivia was my currency.
See, I’d clued in that my Cornwall research was a “two birds with one stone” deal for him. Graham didn’t care about the property; he cared about the delay. But by hiring me, he could write off the delay…and fuck me and maybe the mint and chip guys too. He could literally have his cake and eat it.
I was a write-off, like the property. Or maybe we were chess pieces in a financial game. Weird thought. But the transparency of our arrangement made it impossible for me to be insulted, the sex was incredible, and…I loved snooping. Win-win for all. It was official—I had no shame.
What I did have, however, was a burning curiosity about Graham, the man underneath the ultra-polished veneer. So while I spouted off things I’d learned about pirates, Cornish pasties, and Arthurian legend, I surreptitiously took notes on my lover. I’d never met anyone like him.