Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
But apparently the reporter took some of my comments out of context and added some editorial of her own that painted me in a pretty bad light. She did just enough to make sure I couldn’t sue for defamation—I already had the lawyers look into it—but beyond that, it’s gloves off.
Even our stock took a hit, but it’s minor, and I’m not worried—it’ll be a blip on the radar. People move on. They are more greedy than ideological when investing, for the most part.
Trawling through my emails, I answer a few messages. I’m being hounded for the meetings I’m missing, but I don’t give a shit. Some things are more important, and I can’t wait to show Anastasia—or whatever her real name is—just how important she is.
Work has been my life up until now, but I already know it won’t be again.
In fact, there’s a nagging worry that I won’t be able to get any work done again.
My cock is painfully hard, and as much as I try to control it, the outline of my massive hard-on is clear on the front of my dark suit trousers.
Looking around, I spot an empty study room across the hall. Needing relief, I step inside, lock the door, and close the shade.
I release my erection, stroke my shaft, thinking of her as she stood yesterday in that green dress, her blue eyes wide. All it takes is the memory of how her skin felt under my fingertips, and I cum hard with a grunt, bracing my arm on the wall.
I cover the head of my dick with my palm, feeling my sticky release fill my hand as I think of how much I want every drop inside of her.
When I can see straight again, I clean up with my handkerchief and toss it in the trash. My cock is still hard, and I realize nothing will slake my lust but her. Never again will anything satisfy me but my sweet Anastasia. My secret treasure.
S I X
Selma
BY THE TIME I GET TO school, I’m losing my mind.
I didn’t sleep.
Like, at all.
And I love to sleep.
In our community, everyone is up at five AM, every day.
FIVE.
A.
M.
Since as far back as my memory goes, unless I was sick or there was some other extenuating circumstance, we were at the morning prayer meeting by five-thirty. As the preacher and head elder in our community, living by the strict code of conduct in our little world is a driving force for Papa. It’s his purpose.
So, to me, sleep is my candy. My guilty pleasure. Whenever I can get a nap, I’m there. Most kids my age are out partying and drinking and trying to get away with God-knows-what.
Me?
I’ll sneak a nap whenever I can.
Sinner.
Papa told me before I left this morning that Daniel and his family would be arriving in the next few days. Barring some sort of apocalyptic event, I’m going to be a married woman very soon.
I’m knotted up inside as I make my way to class. In my mind, I see Ash’s silver-gray eyes and remember the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand.
Not to mention the check I still have in my notebook.
I’m three steps inside the door at school when Cameron comes rushing down the hall toward me.
“O.M.G.” He grabs my arm like he did yesterday and drags me into an empty classroom and my throat already tight.
“What?” My heart is already beating like a drum.
“Okay, so he’s here.” He’s practically panting. “Again.”
I know who he means this time. My breath catches, and I feel like my knees are going to give out.
“Where?”
“He wants to talk to you.” He holds up a hand. “I told him I would see what you wanted. He wanted your real name too, but I didn’t give him anything. If you want to see him, he’s waiting. If not, I’ll tell him, and he can get on down the road.”
Cameron’s eyes are twinkling, and all I can think about is Ash and all the feelings I’ve had in the time since I met him yesterday. He’s occupied my day and night dreams since I left here yesterday.
Men like him don’t exist in my world, and the heat rushing through me tells me I could be missing something wonderful.
Even if it is a sin.
“So, do you want to talk to him?” Cameron interrupts my thoughts.
“Yes,” Anastasia blurts out the answer before Selma can stop her.
Guilt coursing through me at the multitude of dirty thoughts I can’t seem to stop.
“Okay, stay here. I’ll go get him.”
The next few minutes feel like ten eternities. I fuss with the buttons of my blouse and look down at my flat black loafers. I hadn’t planned on doing any video shooting today, so I’m wearing my usual community-endorsed uniform, and it is the definition of frumpy.