Mr. Spencer Read online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 156029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
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Masters chuckles. “Right?” He cuts into his toast. “Imagine how hot the sex would be.”

They both smile darkly.

“Stop it.” I groan. “Don’t even think about sex with her.” I point my knife at Sebastian. “You go near her and I’ll fucking kill you.”

The two of them chuckle in unison.

“Jesus Christ, calm down.” Seb laughs.

I run my both hands through my hair. “This woman has got me going fucking crazy.”

“So, do something about it.”

“I can’t fuck her!” I snap. “You don’t just fuck a girl like Charlotte.”

“No, you don’t.” Seb shakes his head. “You fuck her, you marry her. Hands down, one-hundred percent.”

I begin to perspire. “See?” I point my knife at them. “I can’t get married.”

“Why not?” Masters frowns.

“Because, I’ve seen the hell you two have been through and I’m not wired to be with just one woman.”

“I didn’t think I was either,” Masters says.

“What made you change?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I didn’t want anyone else touching me but her.”

I stare at him.

“And I didn’t want to touch anybody else. It stopped being just about the sex and more about when I got to spend time alone with her.”

I shake my head in disgust and look at Seb. “See, this is what I’m talking about. Nothing good can come of this.” I bite my food off my fork with force. “You’re pathetic, by the way, Masters.”

He nods. “I get it, Spence. Run. Run the fuck away now.”

“I did.”

“Then why is it pissing you off?” Masters ask.

“Because she’s so fucking perfect I can’t even deal with it. I’ve jerked off so many times that my dick is chaffed, and I can’t get any satisfaction from that. I didn’t go out all weekend because I didn’t want to sleep with anybody else.”

Masters shakes his head. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Hate to tell you, but you’re pretty much fucked already, man.”

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sheridan is in town this week. She’ll snap me out of it.”

“God, you’ve been on and off with her for a long time.”

“About ten years, I think.”

“Why don’t you just make a go of it with her?” Masters frowns.

I screw up my face in disgust. “It’s not like that between us.”

“So, let me get this straight: you’ve been fucking this chick from New York for ten years and you don’t even think about her once when you’re not with her?”

“God, no, never,” I answer with certainty. “I’m not being a stepfather to her three bratty kids, and I definitely don’t want to move to the states. Nor do I want her moving here. We just have fun.” I scowl and look up at the ceiling. “I think she’s even got a boyfriend now.”

“But she’ll call you the minute she gets into town and you’ll go to her hotel.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll fuck her ‘til she can’t walk.” I bite the food from my fork. “When she’s in London, she’s mine.”

“How often does she come here?”

“Four times a year.”

“How long does she stay each visit?”

I shrug. “Ten days or so.”

“Like I said,“ Seb mutters. “Why doesn’t this fucking shit ever happen to me?”

We continue to eat our breakfast, and the boys talk and chatter cheerfully, but my mind is in Nottingham… with Charlotte.

I hate that she thinks that this is about her. This isn’t about her, it’s about me and what I can’t be.

If I go there, eventually I’ll fuck it up. I know I will, and I can’t stand the thought of that.

It’s best to just leave it as it stands. I can’t see her again.

I exhale heavily at the depressing thought, and I stare out of the window, feeling like shit.

“Fuck’s sake, snap out of it.” Masters groans.

“Whatever.” I sigh, tucking into my breakfast again.

It’s going to be a long day.

Charlotte

Lara falls into the seat opposite me. “Good Lord, I need a strong drink. Can you buy it by the bottle here?” She sighs.

I smile and sip my wine. “What happened?”

She throws her hands up in the air. “Ugh, where do I start?” She holds her finger up. “Oh, I know, let’s start with the fact that there was a pubic hair on my desk this morning when I got to work.”

“What?” I gasp.

“That stupid wench from accounts is fucking somebody, and she’s doing it on my desk.”

I put my hand over my mouth and stifle a laugh. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She frowns, horrified. “I called the other girls into my office and we all agreed that the hair was definitely pubic. We had a two-hour discussion over it.”

My eyes widen. “What did you do?”

“Disinfected the hell out of everything, and then put a complaint into management.”

“I have no words.”

She shakes her head in disgust. “I do. Get a fucking room.” She pours herself a glass of wine, but she’s so distracted that it sloshes over the side. “It’s disgusting. Now everywhere I look in the office, I imagine her huge hairy vagina has been on it, getting pummelled.” She sticks her fingers down her throat to fake vomit. “Oh, and don’t even get me started on the kitchen. I’m never eating my lunch on that table again.”


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