Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
But the thing is I didn’t want to analyze the situation because what would it say about me? It was just easier to take it day by day, enjoying the redhead’s body while working on my book. Besides, that curvy figure was beckoning now and my dick jerked immediately in reply. Standing abruptly, I looked down at her hungrily, blue eyes blazing.
“Come on,” I growled, my huge boner visible, the ridge insistent as it curved down my leg. “Upstairs, pretty baby, Daddy wants his real lunch now.”
And the redhead tittered then before getting up, bouncing those assets. She sashayed towards the stairs, hips waggling this way and that, before looking at me coyly over one slim shoulder.
“Okay Daddy,” she breathed, shaking those red curls. “Okay, I’m ready.”
And fuck, but the fuck session was good. Anna’s the best I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot. She’s responsive, enthusiastic, and always so wet. That pussy drips non-stop, ready to harbor my dick at any hour, any minute, and I’ve been partaking around the clock. Why not? She’s there and she’s my captive.
But again, it’s not so simple. Because something’s happening, stirring my soul, drowning me in a sea of confusion. And Anna knows too, the little girl is smart. She’s able to read me, to anticipate what I want and how I want it. I see her looking at me thoughtfully sometimes, words in her eyes, but then she bites her lip, turning away, thinking second thoughts.
So yeah, I dunno what to do. The redhead’s under my skin, intelligent without being annoying, sassy without being abrasive. Her suggestions to my book are spot-on, and her edits are that of a professional. I looked over the red markings and shit, but I should pay her for this work because she’s better than my real editor. Shaking my head, I turned back to my typewriter. The redhead is more than I imagined, a thousand times smarter, better, and sweeter than some nothing from the street.
And that’s why I have a surprise planned. Because I need to test Anna. I need to see what she’s really about. I’ve sated myself on her body, again and again, and her mind has turned out to be fertile ground as well, stimulating and sensitive.
So I need to test her. Yeah, I’m like that, a fucker who puts the screws to his women. Will the pretty girl be able to handle my surprise? Will she survive or will the shock drive her over the edge until she’s a shattered mess? Involuntarily, my dick jerked at the thought of sweet redhead. She better survive … because there was no exit without going through me.
CHAPTER TEN
Anna
I woke one morning, stretching luxuriously in bed. Oh god, life is so different now. My pussy ached deliciously, thighs slightly sticky from Robert’s cum. But instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed, I stretched again, raising my arms over my head and inhaling, breasts rising, before smiling like a satisfied cat.
Because I’ve become a complete slut for Robert, letting him use me any which way he wants, plowing my insides, coming in me again and again. It’s insane. I’m supposed to be his prisoner, I’m supposed to be tied up and locked away, but instead, we’ve settled into a routine. Every morning, we have coffee together downstairs, Robert like a huge, silent bear before he gets his caffeine. But then he loosens up and we discuss his writing for the day.
“Drama this afternoon,” he grunted recently, eyes fixed on the paper. “Phoenix gets thrown in jail and escapes, only to be double-crossed by his female lover.”
I nodded slowly.
“Agree, totally agree,” came my murmur. “But what do you think about being double-crossed by his sidekick instead? I like Amanda, and I think their relationship humanizes him. If we write her out of the plot, then he goes back to losing that facet.”
Robert frowned, staring at his manuscript. But he answered.
“We’ll see,” grunted the big man. “We’ll see. Now let’s get crackin’.”
And he disappeared into his study, the door only slightly muffling the clack clack clack of that ancient typewriter as I sat at the kitchen table, going through his latest chapters.
They’re good, they’re really good. Robert may be a man of few words in real life, but his words on the page are amazing. They roll off, so well-written and illuminating that sometimes I’m gasping by the end of a chapter, unable to get enough.
But sure enough, we inevitably pause for lunch and some lighthearted play. Okay, lighthearted isn’t the right word. More like Robert gives me a deep dicking, sitting me down on that fat cock, and I love it. My screams come out, begging him for more, chanting his name as I come again and again, accepting his seed.
So I expected more of the same today. Luxuriating in the sheets, I sat up, sniffing for the rich aroma of coffee from downstairs, but instead, a slam caught my ear. What was that? It sounded like a car door. Did we have neighbors? Was Robert expecting someone? This was weird.