Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 131799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“She feels sorry for him.”
“Whatever, it shits me.” I grab Ben’s track pants and pull them down, fascinated when he springs free.
“Send me a pic of you two tonight at the ball,” she says.
“All right,” I reply as I guide him into me, sliding deep.
“Okay, love you,” she sings.
My eyes close. “Love this, too,” I whisper. “I mean… you. I love you,” I stammer.
Ben laughs against my neck. Fuck, I can’t multitask for shit. God help me when I have kids. Ben takes my phone off me and hangs up. He throws it across the floor and pumps me hard, and his dark eyes hold mine.
“I should ring Natasha more often.” I smile up at him sexily.
“Shut up before I gag you,” he breathes out as he concentrates.
I laugh out loud. Oh, jeez, I love this man.
I take one last look at myself in the mirror. This black dress turned out to be pretty good actually. It’s a classic strapless number with a tight-fitted lining and a flowing organza overlay that falls to the floor. It’s elegant and simple, which was the aim. If not a little dull. It is the White House, after all. I don’t want to be sexing it up too hard and looking all Marilyn when I need to be Jackie.
My honey-brown hair is down and full of big, loose, Hollywood curls. My makeup is understated, apart from my deep red, glossy lips. I have drop diamanté earrings in, and a matching bracelet that sparkles on my wrist.
I could have used a spray tan, but never mind. I did the best with what I had with one day’s notice.
I walk out into the living room and my breath catches.
Oh, my God.
Ben is wearing his full army formal wear, a crisp, dark green suit, and a chest covered in medals. He’s tall with his muscular physique and chiselled square jaw, and he wears this uniform with such pride… I can feel it.
“Ben…” I whisper. For some stupid reason seeing him in this makes me emotional, and I tear up
“What’s wrong?” he whispers as he holds me at arm’s length.
I shake my head, embarrassed by my physical reaction to him. “You just look so…” I look him up and down as I try to articulate my thoughts. “Handsome.”
His eyes hold mine, and he gives me the best come fuck me look I have ever seen.
“You look pretty good yourself, Marx.”
I smile broadly as I circle him. “What are all these medals?” I ask as I run my hand over them on his chest.
He shrugs, as if embarrassed. “Just medals.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Just medals? There is no such thing as just a medal.”
He goes to kiss me, then stops himself. “How am I supposed to kiss you with that red lipstick on?” he asks.
“You’re not. It’s Army Ken repellent.”
“Army Ken?” He frowns.
“If there were a perfect army doll.” I run my hands down the lapels of his uniform as my eyes drop to mentally undress him. “It would be you. In this.”
He runs his hand down my hip and grips my sex aggressively, and my breath catches.
“If there were to be a fuckable princess doll. It would be you… wearing this,” he whispers darkly. His eyes drop to my lips and I lick them for extra effect.
He kisses me softly. “Not now, angel. Later.” He nips my collarbone and I jump.
“Don’t bore me with details. I’m kind of in the middle of an army soldier fantasy right now,” I breathe. No joke, I really am.
He brushes the backs of his fingers down my cheek as he studies my face.
“Damn you,” I whisper. “My panties are wet.”
His eyes blaze and he smiles sexily as he straightens my dress from his assault. “They’re going to be shredded by the end of the night, angel.”
We walk down the long guard-lined hallway. My arm is linked through Ben’s and I’m feeling really nervous. I’ve never been to anything like this before. Men in uniform are everywhere, and there’re some women, too. There are people dressed normally as well.
I wonder who they are.
Don’t drink Champagne, I remind myself. Champagne is the devil… or should I say it brings out the devil in me. Most of the stupidest decisions I’ve ever made in my life have been over a Champagne glass. Bad combination.
“Don’t let me drink Champagne,” I whisper.
Ben frowns down at me as we walk. “Why?”
“Because I will probably take my dress off and give you a lap dance at the table.”
“Okay. I’ll buy three bottles on the way home then,” he whispers back.
I smile happily as I look around. This is out of this world. Who knew? The White House.
Wow.
As we walk past the guards that are lining the wall Ben nods in acknowledgment, and I have to try and stop myself from smiling stupidly. I’m totally fangirling here.