Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
I take a big bite out of my sandwich and juices burst all over my tongue. My eyes close and I moan with delight. I open them at his chuckle.
“Sweetheart, it seems that roast beef is better than sex, judging from your expression.”
I swallow and giggle a bit.
“I don’t know. I mean, being with you was my first time. It was amazing, but a nice big bite of roast beef can be pretty amazing too.”
John chuckles but then grows somber.
“I know it was your first time, Brit. I appreciate that you gave your innocence to me.”
I look at him with shock.
“You knew? But I didn’t bleed or anything.”
He nods, looking down at his sandwich for a moment.
“I could tell, sweetheart, because you were so giving. You were innocent, and your pussy was incredibly tight. The way you milked me … I just knew, honey. Call it a sixth sense, but I know you haven’t shared your body with anyone else. It’s all mine.”
I blush, feeling so cherished.
“I want it to be yours,” is my low murmur. “It felt right like that, and this morning, I even had a little trouble walking.”
Dark streaks appear on John’s cheekbones.
“Did you now?” he asks, his low voice a rumble. “Well then, we’ll need to do that more often to break you in. Practice makes perfect after all.”
I giggle, even as shivers run through my body. The truth is that I’d love to wake up in John’s bed every morning, sore from a hard pounding. He takes me so thoroughly, and treats me so well too. It would be a dream come true.
But right now, these sandwiches have my attention. John loaded mine with lettuce, tomato, mayo, ham, turkey, and roast beef. The sandwich is hearty, flavorful, and exactly what I need. We’re doing okay at home now when it comes to food, but our meals are never this decadent.
“Do you like it?” John asks.
I nod. “It’s really good. How’d you learn to make sandwiches like this?”
He laughs.
“My mom taught me. The art of a good sandwich is in the layers. You don’t want tomato right next to your bread. You want the tomato sandwiched between the meat and lettuce, so the bread doesn’t get soggy.”
I smile.
“Your mom is a smart woman.”
He nods.
“She is. I’ve always loved to cook because of her. I know throwing together a sandwich is hardly cooking, but it’s one of the things she taught me to make. By the way, I also make a really good mac and cheese and I’ll let you in on the trick right now: it’s at least three different cheeses and heavy cream instead of milk.”
My mouth is watering from all this talk about food. I’m ashamed to appear so hungry, but after having so little, even the imagery makes a difference.
“That sounds fantastic,” I pant slightly, my mouth watering. “It sounds delicious.”
John smiles, sensing my need for calories, and gently places his hand over mine as his eyes go dark with some unnamed emotion.
“I’ll make my mac and cheese for you sometime, Britney. Like I said, you never have to worry about food anymore. I promise.”
I lower my head, suddenly embarrassed.
“It was that obvious, wasn’t it?” I choke out.
His big, bronzed hand stays on mine a while longer, so warm that it almost sears my skin. His handsome face is somber.
“Hunger is a serious issue, sweetheart, and I didn’t know you were suffering. But now that I do know, you’ll never go through that again.”
I smile a little, still feeling a little sad. But then my lips quirk up in a semi-smile.
“Well, I guess it’s good that you own a grocery store, isn’t it? We’re a perfect match, aren’t we?”
His eyes darken to an almost black.
“We are, sweetheart. And I’ll empty the shelves of all of our stores if that’s what it takes to feed you. Never again, Britney,” he promises softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
My heart flips, flops, and then does a complete three sixty. This man is my dream come true, and tears spring to my eyes.
“I’m holding you to that,” is my soft murmur.
“I wouldn’t expect less,” he replies. But then he squeezes my hand and smiles. “So, how are things with school? Will you still be graduating on time?”
I inhale deeply, trying to find my center after all this serious talk.
“Yes, I think so. I’m sad that we’re not going to do all the normal senior year activities, but it’s not too bad. I might get to go back for the last month or two of school, depending on the situation. If we do, my friends and I will try to fit in as many senior year experiences as we can. It’ll be fun.”
John grins, his smile movie-star white.
“Yeah, I remember when I was a senior in high school. We orchestrated the most epic senior prank.”