Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
He moved closer, pressing his forehead against mine.
“So, you didn’t miss me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Okay.” He reached back to unlock the door. “You’re free to go. I’ll follow your lead.”
“Thank you.” I continued staring into his eyes. “I appreciate that.”
“Tatiana.” His voice was strained. “Why are you still standing here?”
“I’m not. I’m clearly leaving if you’d give me a second.”
He gave me a lot more than that. Then he gripped my waist.
“I’m heading toward the door at this very moment,” I said.
“I can see that.” He tightened his grip. “Now?”
“Yes. Right now.”
His lips curved into a smirk, and he lowered his voice. “It’s a shame to see that you still struggle with knowing what’s best for you.”
“It’s never shameful to grow up and learn from a huge relationship mistake.”
“That’s what I was to you?” He didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. “A mistake?”
“Biggest one I ever made.” I swallowed. “And the moment I’m done faking this relationship, I’ll take great pride in erasing this one.”
“Then I guess we should make the next several minutes memorable.” He pressed his lips against mine and trapped me in a tight hold, sentencing my lies to a long, unrelenting kiss.
Sliding a hand under my dress, he yanked off my panties.
As they fell to the floor, he smacked my ass, and I yelped so loudly that I knew whoever was on the other side of the door heard me.
“Are you faking this?” he hissed against my mouth, still punishing me with his kiss.
“Yes.” I lied. “I’m fucking faking it.”
He spun me around to face the oversized window and bent me over.
Grabbing the hem of my dress, he pushed it up to my stomach.
“Don’t move.” He wedged his foot between my legs, forcing me to spread wider for him.
I slid my fingers under the frame of the washing machine to keep my balance, but he slapped my ass again. Much harder this time.
“I said, don’t move,” he warned.
Remaining still, I shut my eyes and listened as he unbuckled his pants behind me. The sound of him unwrapping a condom followed, and within seconds, I felt him pressing his sheathed cock against my clit.
He didn’t give me a chance to anticipate him fucking me, though.
He slid into me all at once, his huge cock stretching me deep. Then he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me back.
“Fuckkk!” I screamed. “I hate you…”
He thrust in and out of me without mercy, keeping his firm grip on my hair.
I had no choice but to grab onto the washing machine now; I’d accept any further punishment.
“Tell me that you hate me again,” he said, pounding me harder.
“I hate you.” I rasped. “I fucking hate you.”
“You fucking missed me…” He bit my shoulder, picking up the tempo. “Say you missed me.”
“Yesssss.” I moaned.
He slid a hand between my legs and found my clit, rubbing it with his thumb. “Say it.”
“Ahhhh…I missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” He darted his tongue against my neck. “For years…”
My clit swelled under the pressure of his thumb's steady rhythm, and his cock was repeatedly hitting my spot.
The pleasure inside me rose and rose and rose, and I lost total control.
Throwing my head back, I moaned his name louder than I had all night, completely submitting and falling apart.
He held me taut as he reached his own release, but he didn't let me go.
We remained connected, struggling to catch our breath.
Pressing one final kiss against my skin, he slowly slid out of me. He pulled tossed the condom into the trash and pulled up his pants before readjusting the back of my dress.
Spinning me around to face him, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but no words came.
Instead, he sighed and pushed a few of my errant curls into place. Then he picked up my panties and stuffed them into his pocket.
I’d just broken my top rule of this arrangement like it was nothing, and given how easily it was for me to get emotionally involved with this man, I couldn’t afford to break it again.
“Mr. Carter?” I said.
“Yes?”
“Please don’t expect for that to happen again.”
“That’s fine.” He opened the door. “Your loss.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-TWO DAYS AFTER SAYING “I DO”
TRAVIS
Days Later
Las Vegas, Nevada
Think of something other than your wife. Think of something other than your wife.
I shook away the endless thoughts of being inside Tatiana—a feeling I’d missed for far too long—replacing them with images of Juarez. Then I slipped into my private octagon and traded jabs with my trainer.
With every hit, I envisioned Juarez’s face bloody and bruised, his jaw breaking in slow motion, and his mouth begging for mercy as I made him eat every word he’d said about me in the press.
“Enough, Travis!” My trainer screamed. “Fuck, enough!”
I slipped out of my trance, realizing he was on the ground with a bloody lip.