Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
I can’t move. Instead, I just stand there, feeling something heavy settle in my stomach as the car pulls away.
I don't know what she’s thinking.
And I fucking hate it.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply before stepping further into the main reception area. I can still hear the muffled hum of music from the ballroom, the soft clink of glasses, the murmur of voices drifting through the hallway.
I should go back inside. Should shake hands with a few more people, maybe charm my way through another conversation I don’t give a shit about before saying goodbye to my teammates.
But the thought alone makes me want to punch something.
Instead, I keep walking.
I pull my phone from my pocket as I step outside, scrolling through my messages until I find the one I need. I tap the number, bringing the device to my ear as the driver picks up on the second ring.
“I’m leaving,” I say. “Be outside in two minutes.”
He confirms, and I hang up, sliding my phone back into my pocket as I take a deep breath of the cool night air.
I need to get out of here.
Away from the party. Away from the endless small talk and free-flowing champagne and all the shit I usually tolerate with a forced smile.
Because none of it interests me tonight.
Not when my mind is still stuck on her.
I told myself I needed to have her just once - just once - to get this shit out of my head.
But now, I know the truth.
I was dead fucking wrong.
*
The drive home is silent.
The low hum of the car’s engine does nothing to drown out the noise in my head. The neon lights of the city blur past the tinted windows, but I barely see them.
My jaw is tight, my fingers tapping against my thigh in restless frustration.
I can still feel her.
The heat of her body against mine. The soft, breathless noises she made when I touched her. The way her legs tightened around my waist when she stopped thinking, stopped fighting, and gave in.
I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face as I lean my head back against the seat.
This isn’t fucking normal.
Usually, after a night like this, I’d feel satisfied. I’d feel relaxed. Confident and content and finished.
But I don’t. Not even close.
If anything, I should feel victorious - because I won.
I had her. Not only did I take what I wanted, she let me - she wanted it.
And yet, it’s not enough.
For the first time in my life, having a woman - no, having her - didn’t put an end to the ache.
It just made it worse.
By the time I reach my penthouse, I’m already on edge.
I have multiple property all over the city, all over the country, all over the fucking continent, and tonight, I hadn’t wanted to go far.
I don’t bother turning on the lights as I step inside, shrugging off my jacket and letting it drop onto the nearest surface. My tie is discarded next, then my watch, and my shirt follows soon after as I kick off my shoes and head straight for the bedroom.
I strip out of my trousers, leaving them in a heap on the floor before climbing into bed. The sheets are cool against my skin, but they do nothing to ease the heat simmering just beneath the surface.
I exhale slowly, staring up at the ceiling, willing myself to switch off.
But I can’t.
Not when the only thing in my head is Daphne.
The taste of her lips, of her tongue, of her cunt.
The way her breath hitched when I teased her, when she tasted herself on me.
The way she melted when I finally stopped playing and gave her what she needed.
The way her eyes fluttered shut.
The way her back arched.
The way she whispered my fucking name.
My jaw tightens, my breathing deepens, and I shove a hand through my hair, cursing under my breath.
But I don’t even try to stop myself when my fingers slip lower, brushing against the growing heat between my legs.
Fuck. I’m already hard.
Still hard, even.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will away the frustration burning through me, but it only makes the memories sharper. More vivid.
Her thighs stretched open, her legs spread out around my head as I knelt before her. The feel of her tight, soaking wet cunt clenching around me as I pushed into her. The way her head tipped back, her lips parting with a broken moan as she came apart under my touch.
I curse lowly as I wrap a firm hand around my cock, my grip tight as I stroke from base to tip.
The first sharp jolt of pleasure has my hips jerking slightly, my mind lost in the feel of her - the memory of her - as I pump my fist in slow, deliberate strokes.