Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Lifting up onto the mattress, I press my knees onto the bed and then push the head of my cock into her tight little hole. We fuck hard and fast until I have her screaming my name and only my name and then I let go, coming in long streams of cum, letting all of my possessive urges out.
We fall into a heap and let a much-needed sleep come.
Morning comes, and I make sure her breakfast is an all-star one with sausage, bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and pancakes so she’s full. Then, I promise to give her a healthy dicking for lunch, which I do in my office so she’s stuffed.
It’s near the end of the day when my phone rings, and I take the call in my office while Marilyn bakes in the kitchen.
“Hello, Jack.”
“I saw you two on TV.”
“Yeah.”
“She won’t talk to me.”
“Honestly, she hasn’t really spoken to anyone. We’ve been busy, but she misses you. If you love her, I will say this.” I go on to explain my plan to him and then end the call just as Marilyn knocks on my office door.
“Come in,” I call out. “Love, you don’t have to knock.” I stand up and walk around to greet her with a light kiss to her lips.
“It’s your office.”
“Consider it yours, too.”
“No.”
“Anyway. We have a problem. Myla’s husband’s here, and we need you in the kitchen.”
“Okay. I’m coming.” I wink at her, and she gives me her usual response to my perverted innuendos: an eye roll.
“So what is the problem?”
“The designs for the wedding have been shared online,” he says. He watches his wife like a hawk, so he must know something I don’t.
“What? That’s not possible.”
“It is.” She pulls a camera out of the bench table near the door. We look at each other, and she shakes her head.
“It’s off now, but it was working for the past week. It turned on when they were here with those reporters. Those weren’t reporters. They were here to steal recipes and ideas from us,” Marilyn sobs. “The wedding is next week.”
“Calm down, mon amour. I’ll fix it.”
“How did you find this?”
“My husband stalks me…apparently. He found my likeness online and was pissed when I had no idea.”
“We’ll destroy them.”
“Good. I want them ruined. I’ll make this better. I have to call Elsa, okay? It might not be a big deal because the bride is a diva. She might want to be the talk of the town.”
“Sounds like a good thing, yes, unless it’s in a negative light.”
“We’ll work it out. I promise.” I kiss her lips and then head into my office to deal with the wedding planner and her entitled bride who makes every bridezilla look like a sweet sugarplum fairy.
Chapter Nine
Marilyn
The flight to Paris is calm and quiet as we go over the plans for the wedding, which have been a freaking mess. We haven’t spoken about the supposed impromptu proposal or wedding that was thrown about like it was no big deal the other night in front of the reporters, but it hasn’t left my mind for one single minute. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman or because I’m madly in love with the man, but it flooded my brain.
Our relationship is new and these feelings are completely irrational, yet I can’t chase them away.
Still, I have a job to do, and that’s to get this wedding tasting the best and to deliver a cake the bride will be pleased with. Especially after my old dean managed to try and steal my ideas. We had to create new designs for the cake and desserts, working overtime while Myla’s husband went hardcore to work refitting the kitchen with enhanced security. We worked to the bone in the condo, the bakery, and in my apartment. Hell, we didn’t even have time to fuck like bunnies over the past week. Which is probably why I’m more unsure of us. It was my dean who violated Julien’s personal space, only to have the same thing happen to him again. Maybe he’s thought twice about us.
“What’s wrong, Marilyn? You’ve been quiet since we arrived. I thought you would be excited to be here.”
“I am.” Damn it, that didn’t sound convincing at all.
“I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
“Chef Beaumont,” a woman calls out, and she’s a perfect beauty, instantly making me jealous. Another reason that maybe we should keep this thing as a fling. Only there’s just one problem, or maybe more than one. I don’t know if I could live without him now.
I drop my head and walk on, pretending that I don’t see them talking, but then Julien reaches out and grabs me. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he growls in my ear. He turns to the woman and says, “Sorry, my fiancée is having a bit of jet lag.”