Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I say nothing, and he goes on, “If this is a favor to me, a way to make up for the video stuff….”
“No,” I say quickly, the thought sickening to me.
It would involve lying to Lauren, exaggerating her skills, but even her self-applied tattoos are beautiful. And the designs she sent me were great.
“I chose her because….”
I want to be close to her. Need to for every single moment. For as long as I can, as often as I can.
Forever.
“She’s good at what she does.”
Buster tilts his head at me, as though telling me he knows I’m lying.
“And sure, I know tattooing me is a good step in her career. But I wouldn’t hire her to tattoo me unless I believed in her skills.”
“That’s good to hear,” Julian replies. “Like I said, I believe in her too. But I wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”
“We are,” I say.
I’m using the same lips that were pressed against his daughter’s sex, the same tongue that explored her body. It’s so wrong to arrange the tattoo with her when I know what happened last time, and I know there is a high risk that it could happen again.
“Lauren’s designs were excellent. Exactly what I was looking for.”
That much is true. When I saw her vision for incorporating the tribal tattoo, a connection to the gravestone, life flourishing on vines, as though giving light to the darkness…I knew it was the right one.
“Awesome. I’ve just heard from Clive, by the way.”
Clive’s one of our contacts at our new company.
Julian and I talk business for a while, then my apartment buzzer sounds, telling me Lauren’s here.
After saying goodbye to her Dad, I scratch Buster as I rise to my feet.
“No disappearing this time,” I tell him. “You stay with me, okay, boy? That way, no funny business happens.”
I walk through my apartment, Buster at my side, reminding myself over and over again to be civilized.
Be a gentleman. Don’t be the animal she threatens to make me every moment.
“Hello?” I say, pressing the intercom button.
“A woman to see you, sir. She says she’s here for a tattoo appointment.”
“Let her up,” I tell the security guard.
Buster watches me as I pace the hallway, wringing my hands, struggling not to let my body heat up. The excitement swells within me, reminding me of the day before last, the office, the sudden heat.
I leaped on her like a beast.
This time, I’ll be better. I’ll try to be.
A knock comes at the door, causing Buster to go into his mad tail-wagging mode, his whole butt shifting from side to side.
“It’s me,” Lauren calls, her voice shaky.
I think of the words I aimed at her.
Nothing happened.
I said those for a reason.
When I open the door, Buster darts forward, and Lauren laughs and kneels, giving him lots of attention and allowing me to aim my attention at her.
She’s wearing a checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up, torn blue jeans, and big chunky boots, all items that would make any other woman look like she was here to work and do nothing else.
And she is. It has to only be that, for Julian.
But I shouldn’t have let it get this far….
“Buster,” I say, and he returns to my feet.
“I don’t mind.”
My woman smiles vivaciously as she stands, her cheeks seeming to glow, making me think of her aiming those curved lips at our children, our future pets, all cherished moments.
It takes me a second to respond.
I’m looking at her lips, full and tempting, realizing I didn’t even kiss her last time. I just rubbed her soaked pussy like some mindless animal, too obsessed to treat her like she deserves.
To reach out, touch her hips, kiss her gently, then harder, more possessively….
“He’s a little rascal,” I say, tone lame as hell.
Lauren turns, leaning down to pick up some bags she’s left on the ground.
I move past her, sweeping the bags up quickly.
“Such a gentleman,” she says with an ironic tilt to her voice.
Chuckling, I carry the bags into the apartment, achingly aware of my woman’s footsteps behind me as we cross from rug to hardwood floor and back to rug again.
After I’ve placed her bags on the living room floor, Lauren taps herself on the head.
I can’t help but laugh again at the gesture. It seems so over the top, like something out of a comic book.
I’m grinning as she meets my eye, her lips mirroring mine.
Buster’s butt shuffles side to side as he looks between us.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“I’ve forgotten the table,” she says. “It’s in my car.”
“I can get it,” I tell her, wanting to do something kind for her.
Nothing happened, like I said. We’re pretending that’s the truth. But it doesn’t mean I can’t show her I care in small ways.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“I insist. As long as you trust me with your car keys.”