Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
I let my head fall back as the delicious pressure built inside of me. He knew my pleasure points and reached a hand up my shirt to tug at my nipple. I let out a gasp when he let go and found my release. He wasn’t far behind. His thrusts, rough and fast, only heightened my pleasure.
With my eyes closed, I fell on his chest, breathing hard as I came down from the sexual high. I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat. I was pretty sure I was too far gone to be okay when he left my life. Yet I wouldn’t change the experience to save any heartbreak. He was worth it.
I must have drifted off because he woke me when the plane landed.
“As much as I want you here, you have to sit here for landing.” He patted the seat I’d vacated.
His cock was still inside me, so I eased off of him. As I shifted over, he put his beautiful dick back in his pants. Though I matched his grin, my heart felt like it was dying a slow death of what was to come.
I pushed that thought away as he took my hand and I clung to him like my life depended on it as we touched down. A limo was waiting when we landed. It was another first for me.
“I’ve never ridden in one of these,” I said. He was fast becoming my partner in all my firsts.
He laughed, not understanding the torment that ran in my head with free rein. “I didn’t know people still used them,” he said.
He would know better than I would. I spent the ride in my head, watching the scenery as it passed. The land was almost flat compared to Montana. No wonder my father had moved. I couldn’t see myself living anywhere without a view of a mountain. I stopped that thought. Pretty sure if Mitchell asked me to move to the moon, I would.
We pulled up in front of a monster of a house with a stone front with large windows. As beautiful as it was, I felt cold as I was led to the double doors. A woman in a maid’s uniform, like you’d see in movies, black with a white apron, answered the door. The poor woman wore a blank expression and led us to a room with wood from the ceiling to the floors.
The man behind a mammoth of a desk—also wooden, nearly blending in with the background—sat with a cigar between his fingers as he puffed out a cloud of carcinogens. I coughed and fanned the air.
I couldn’t tell if it was in response to my poor lungs or not, but when the man who looked like an older version of my father put out the cigar, I was grateful.
“Have a seat,” he said in a powerful, commanding voice.
Instead, I put a hand on the back of the padded leather chair and stood beside it. “I came like you asked. You should have the results.”
An approved lab had sent a nurse to gather a sample of my DNA from a cheek swab. They’d even taken blood, too.
He let out a booming laugh. “You are your father’s daughter. You have his hair and your mother’s eyes.”
“What do you know of my mother?” I snapped. What I’d learned of my grandfather hadn’t endeared me to him.
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a photo. He slid it across his desk. Mitchell did the honors and went for it. He brought it back to me.
There in the picture was my father with one arm around my mom. They looked so young. I’d never seen the picture before. “You can keep that,” my grandfather said. “I don’t need it anymore.”
“You knew who I was,” I accused.
“I knew what he said. That didn’t mean I believed it.”
In the photo, Dad’s free hand held Mom’s. You could see wedding bands on each of their hands.
According to my lawyer, my grandfather had contended that even if I was my father’s biological child, my parents weren’t married. Thus, I wasn’t legitimate as required by the trust for an heir to inherit.
“Now you know,” I said. “So why bring me here?”
“It’s better to talk business face to face. Why don’t you introduce the man you brought?”
“I’m her lawyer,” Mitchell said, answering for himself.
Grandfather chuckled again. “Good for you, honey.” But his eyes were drawn to the ring Mitchell had convinced me to wear. “And who’s the lucky guy?” Grandfather asked.
I glanced at Mitchell, and he said, “I am.”
“Of course you are. You have to know that even though her father is rich on paper, he’s cash poor.”
Mr. Grimes had already explained Dad’s financial situation.
“I don’t need your granddaughter’s money. I’m Mitchell Bowmen of Bowmen Law Offices.” This was all part of the plan. Mitchell walked forward and set an impressive business card in front of my grandfather. “You might have heard of my brother, Nate Bowmen.”