Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I studied the monitors. All our guests were aware that public areas were equipped with a state-of-the-art, fully secured surveillance system, but our privacy agreement was legally airtight, allowing our guests to freely indulge without fear of exposure or blackmail.
“Does watching all of this make sex—”
“Way less interesting?” the guard finished for me. “Yes.”
“I suppose too much of a good thing…” I didn’t finish my sentence. Had being with me full-time for twenty-four hours made me too much of a good thing for Charlotte? “Anyway, thank everyone for how they’ve looked out for her, will you?”
“I’ll put it in the log,” the guard promised, and I left.
When I arrived back at the house, Charlotte was in the shower. I knocked on the door, not wanting to startle her.
“Matt?” she called, and I went inside. She peered through the steamy glass and her face lit up. “It’s hard to get lube out of your hair!”
“I know.” I wasn’t a huge fan of that particular tactile sensation. “Did you have a good time?”
She opened her mouth to tell me but hesitated in making the words come out.
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I’m not going to get jealous. I brought you here so you could do wild stuff.”
She grinned. “Yeah, I had an amazing time. But also, I’m kind of sore now.”
“Sounds like you had a productive evening,” I teased her.
“I got fisted for the first time ever!” she blurted happily.
There was no other response to that than, “Congratulations!”
She laughed and ducked back under the water. I watched the shampoo suds slide down her hair, onto her back and I wanted to touch her. God, I wanted to touch her. Too much of a good thing.
“Leave it running when you’re done,” I said, unbuttoning my shirt.
“You can get in now,” she offered, blinking under the spray.
“No, I’ll let you have your space.” I pulled my shirt and undershirt over my head and tossed them into the soft-sided laundry hamper under the sink counter.
She stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, tucking it around her breasts. “Are you going to tell me what you got up to?”
“If you want to know.”
“I wouldn’t have asked,” she pointed out.
It felt strange to share it with her. Which was odd, because I’d had no problem fucking some other woman while I was on the phone to Charlotte. Nothing had changed, but something about it nagged at me. “I met a guy and we hooked up. Nothing half as exciting as what you got up to.”
“Poor you,” she chirped. “I’m going to get in bed, but I’m still keyed up. Do you mind if I watch TV? Can you fall asleep with it on?”
I couldn’t, but I said, “Yeah, no problem,” and watched her leave before I got in and took a quick shower, myself. When I went to the bedroom, she was propped up on the pillows, wearing the silky nightgown I’d given her and clicking through her streaming options.
“I’ve been watching this old show, Cheers? Have you heard of it?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’ve heard of it.” And hearing it described as “this old show” made me want to go into the woods and die so I wouldn’t burden the rest of the clan. I would not tell her that I’d watched the finale on broadcast television with my own two eyes.
I pulled the duvet back and slipped between the sheets next to her. There was something comfortable about having her with me, even when we weren’t having sex. Maybe it would have been awkward to spend this much time with someone I wasn’t in a relationship with, but not when the someone was Charlotte. And I’d never felt so at ease spending so much time with anyone I’d dated or, hell, been engaged to. I’d set strict boundaries about my “me” time. I’d needed to be alone to decompress from being around people, even ones I loved.
Being with Charlotte felt like decompression on its own.
“I think we should probably take it easy tomorrow,” she said, pausing with “che” in the search bar on the screen. “I did…a lot tonight. And I assume you’ve got something amazing planned for your birthday.”
“I do,” I admitted. My birthday party was a highlight of my year, regardless of where it took place. I didn’t always come to Ascend Red, but I always made a huge deal out of my birthday. “Do you think you’ll be back in fighting shape by then?”
“Fucking shape, you mean?” She giggled. “I have two days. I’m sure I’ll bounce back.”
“When is your birthday, by the way? I’m horrible with dates, but I can always have my assistant send you flowers.” It was a half-joke. I was terrible with dates, but any gift I sent Charlotte would be more personal than flowers purchased by an employee.