Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
He’s got the hands of a God. His fingers are long and just the right amount of thick, and my insides wince, wondering what they would feel like giving me a good ole finger bang as they say in some of the filthiest of my smutty books. They were certainly good at multi-tasking a few minutes ago, teasing my entrance and lighting up my clit until the world shifted and I heard angels sing.
See? It’s nice, isn’t it? It’s okay to feel good, baby, that’s what a good Daddy is for, to make you feel good.
How I’m fine with what’s happening here I’m not sure, but this sort of play acting is obliterating my inhibitions. I’m sure there are many regrets waiting for me on the other side, but for now? I’m Jamie Belotti and this girl has earned some feel-good distraction, so break a leg, Hannah. Jamie has taken over.
A tuxedo-wearing valet swings open my door, and the heat outside invades the carefully controlled atmosphere of the car. I feel the sweat gathering in the dip of my collarbone and in my cleavage. In a flash, Dietrich is at my side, helping me to my feet as I stumble in the five inch heels. In the bright sun, his dark hair seems woven with silver, framing his hard-lined features.
Features that are one-hundred-percent focused on me right now.
He smells like one of those expensive candles with a leather and evergreen scent. His warm hand settles on that spot on my back just above my ass that makes my insides flutter and clench. It’s as though he’s driving me forward, using an invisible steering wheel because he doesn’t need to say a word for me to move wherever he aims.
Two younger valets pull our luggage from the trunk as he guides me without a word toward the mansion’s carved front door as I concentrate on every step. The entrance is worthy of a medieval fortress, complete with black-suited security guys wearing earpieces, who nod to allow Dietrich through without a pause. We must be early because there aren’t many other cars and there’s no buzz of a party coming from inside.
Dietrich raises a fist to knock, but the door swings open on a spooky creak before his knuckles can graze the wood.
A woman in a high-necked silver and black sequined gown greets us with a gregarious smile. Her dress looks heavy and hot but there’s a decadent rush of cold air that envelops us from inside the house.
She’s slightly older than Dietrich and I’d guess she’s had some work done on her face, but it’s high end for sure. No hush-hush trips to Brazil for back-room Botox for her.
There’s a polished glamor to her style, but there’s far too much makeup around her stormy gray eyes and I catch a flash of delight as they land on Dietrich.
“Dietrich! Welcome, and I see you did, in fact, bring your lovely daughter.” Her attention sweeps over me, her eyebrows frozen on her emotionless face. She manages a tight smile, letting me know my presence is nowhere near as enticing to her as Dietrich’s. Her silver hair brushes her jaw in a meticulous bob, and I’m momentarily blinded by the chandelier of diamonds stretching her earlobes unnaturally low. I fake my smile as well, but I’m better at it. “You are as beautiful as your father said, Jamie.”
Father. Shiver.
“Thank you for extending the invitation to include me, Miss Malcolm, I’m a huge supporter of the arts,” I say with sticky-sweet politeness and a dash of curtsy for effect. She soaks up my genuflection but there is something about her that sours my stomach and chills the residual heat left by the deviant interactions between me and Dietrich in the back of the car.
“Oh, please. Call me Margaret.” She pronounces her name as though she’s yawning. Maaaaargaret. Those gray eyes flash back to Dietrich as though I’ve turned to vapor. She doesn’t hide the way her gaze roves over him as her tongue glances in slow-mo along her plump, red-lined lower lip. “Such a polite girl. So many parents these days seem to have no control over their children whatsoever.”
“She made it easy. Having kids is a blessing,” Dietrich starts and, damn, he’s good. I almost believe him. “Especially a perfect little girl like Jamie. I’d love to have more children. But, I wanted to focus on Jamie and not bring anyone else into our lives that could disrupt her home.” He turns to catch my eyes, and Jesus, he’s piling it on thicker than a bar hooker at The Mirage. I swear, on my Meryl Streep signed copy of the Out of Africa script, when he said that bit about wanting more children? My ovaries went into spasm. I honestly heard a little pop pop sound as my eggs jettisoned themselves into my womb. “Jamie is very obedient.”