Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
“I haven’t seen it. What’s it about?”
It seems like we’re both agreeing that we’ll table the sex stuff, the possible Daddy interest she has, to move on to safer things. It is our first date and not even a solo one. I’m feeding her food my mom made. The least I can do is buy her a full dinner or cook her something with my own hands before tying her to my bed posts and having my lustful way with her.
“Mermaids and whether they’re real or fake. This is not a real documentary. There’s a warning at the beginning, but by the end of the show, you’re thinking, wait a sec, maybe Hans Christian Anderson was actually writing a documentary and not a fairy tale.”
“Okay, I need to watch this.”
Obediently I put it on, and for the next hour, Morgan is transfixed. At the end, after she’s eaten two servings of my mom’s delicious pasta, drank three beers, and is slightly—maybe even more than slightly—tipsy, she turns to me with her red lips parted and her eyes wide. “I think I believe.”
I can’t laugh because I was in the same state of confusion after watching the “documentary”. “You need another beer,” I answer. I hand her a fresh one.
“Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”
My brows crash together. Have I been saying my intrusive thoughts out loud? About how I wanted to tie her up and ravish her? “Hey, I’m on my fourth one, too. Maybe I should be worried about you taking advantage of me.”
“Hmmm.” She tips the beer back as if she’s contemplating this. “I think you’re too big for me to take advantage of.”
“I could tie one hand behind my back.”
“Kinky. But only one?”
“I have to have one hand free. How else am I supposed to touch you?”
“You have a tongue.”
Said tongue is feeling thick as hell. This sexy talk is getting to me. I shift slightly and breathe through my nose. First date, asshole. Do not fuck this up.
“Not to ruin the mood and all but, Morgan, if you keep going down this route, we’re going to have sex. If you’re ready, so am I, but if you’re not, you might want to move down about two feet.”
She doesn’t move, and I spend a long moment where a dozen scenes race through my head where she’s naked and I’m balls deep inside of her. Gremlin jumps between us and breaks the spell. Morgan gets to her feet and gives me an unsteady smile. “I think I better call an Uber.”
“Or you can stay here. I promise not to touch you.”
The corner of her lips quirks up. “Sure, but who’s going to save you from me?”
“I don’t want to be saved. Please, take me.” I hold out my arms.
She just laughs again. It’s a breathy one and goes straight from my ears to my cock, but I know hesitation when I see it. When Morgan and I do have sex, it’s going to be something we’re both one hundred percent into, particularly if it involves ropes, a little Daddy play, some spanking, and who knows what else.
The car service arrives way too quickly for my liking. “I’d kiss you goodbye,” I say, “but when I do get my mouth on you, I’m not going to stop.” I reach across and buckle her in. “Take good care of her. She’s precious,” I tell the driver.
“Got it, man. I promise to deliver her with only a few scratches,” he jokes.
“If you do, I’ll come and shove the gear shift down your throat,” I reply, deadly serious. The driver shuts up immediately.
I stand on the sidewalk and watch the car until the taillights disappear and the dark night swallows her up. I stay out there with my hands in my pockets for a long time. Funny how your life can change in an instant. One day, you’re struggling with inspiration, and the next moment, you find the one person you can’t live without.
CHAPTER 10
MORGAN
“Lady Morgan, your presence has been requested in the study.” I groan when Alfred's voice fills my bedroom through the smart system.
“Stop calling me a lady. It’s an insult,” I shout, and regret it instantly as the pounding in my head persists. I don’t have a full hangover, but I need some water or food in me. A couple of Advil should really do the trick.
“I know,” Alfred responds. I suppose I had that coming.
“Can we make my presence required in the kitchen instead? I need orange juice and toast.”
“I’ll bring both to the study.”
“I take it we have a guest?” Why else would we be headed to the study?
“Yes.”
“It’s not—”
“No, it’s not your parents.”
“Did Blake make it home last night?”
“I do not meddle in people's affairs.”
I would burst into laughter if I felt better.