Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Right when I think I’ve lost myself, oop! There I am.” I shake my head. “I usually ramble when I’m nervous, Sir. So the inability to speak to you thing is slightly freaking me out.”
“I know. That’s what you’ve always done in our messages, princess. And it’s as endearing in person as it is when I open my texts to find all sorts of your clever and thought-provoking… well… thoughts.” He chuckles, and my eyes go to his mouth.
Fuck me.
His smile is adorable and hot at the same time.
Up until now, I’d only seen it in person at a distance, across the gym, given to other members who approached him like they might be good friends as they shook hands or clapped each other on the back. In his profile picture, he wasn’t exactly smiling, but the corners of his lips were lifted enough that it was a relaxed and pleasant expression. But his full-on smile makes my breath come out in a pant as I catch sight of the little gap between his two front teeth.
Everything about Gym-slash-Dumpster Daddy—I refuse to think of him by his real name—is incredibly masculine… powerful… and screams “sexy older man” and “alpha.” But that tiny space in the center of his smile gives him a hint of boyishness that makes him even more irresistible. It makes me want to do everything I can to put that smile on his face as often as possible just so I can get a glimpse of that small imperfection that makes him all the more perfect in my eyes.
“Now, as I asked previously, would you like me to take off my shades? You couldn’t meet my eyes this morning, and you said in our messages the idea of looking at me face-to-face made you exceptionally nervous. If I weren’t who I am, that might’ve given me a complex,” he says, and I open my mouth to explain it has absolutely nothing to do with his looks, but then I see that teensy gap between his teeth again and know he’s just teasing me. When I close my mouth and press my lips into an embarrassed smile, he continues. “You’re not the first person to have an issue with my eyes, little one. You’ve never been close enough to see why though. Yours has everything to do with your submissiveness, whether it’s been ingrained in you as a sign of respect not to meet a Dom’s eyes—which I’m not one of those who require it—or maybe it’s just the intimidation factor alone. Others, mostly people outside the community, have admitted my eyes make them uncomfortable. So I wore the shades tonight to put you at ease… so you’d feel a little braver if there was this small barrier between us.”
My brows furrow at this, and even though I know it’s impossible, I try to make out his eyes behind the sunglasses he wears. They’re the same silver frames with the blue-tinted reflective lenses he was wearing in his profile picture, the same ones I saw on him a number of times at the gym when he was either coming in or leaving through the front door. What could possibly be so weird about his eyes that I wouldn’t have noticed it at a distance? Even that night he carried me out of the dumpster, I saw them up close. I just couldn’t tell what color they were.
I’m just curious enough, and have been dying to discover their true color for weeks now, that I’m finally able to voice an answer to his question. “Yes, Sir. I’d like you to take off the shades. Thank you for the consideration. That’s… pretty amazing of you to do something like that just to make me more comfortable, Sir.”
Again, such a small thing, like certain messages he’s sent, that make it hard to swallow because of the lump in my throat as my eyes prickle, and I don’t even realize I’ve lowered my head until I feel crackling energy beneath my chin and hear his voice much closer but softer than it was just a moment ago. “Do I have permission to touch you, princess?”
My breathing has sped up as my eyes focus on his hand hovering right in front of my throat. I can feel it on my flesh just as clearly as if it was actually caressing my skin, but he hasn’t even laid a finger on me since he helped me into the truck. I want him to touch much, much more than just my chin or jaw or throat. I want him to touch me everywhere his hands and mouth could possibly reach and then some.
But I can’t say that. God, I could never say something so bold out loud to a real person. All that is saved up until I can type them out in one of my books. I’d never be brave enough to voice my desires so openly.