Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
It isn’t true, though. It isn’t me. It isn’t her. It’s us.
And now we’re here, picking out what will be her wardrobe, approved by me.
“This is a bit high on the controlling spectrum,” she says to me, but the way her eyes light up and her cheeks pinken with excitement, I know she loves it.
“Your point?” I get up from the bench and head with her into the shopping plaza to the stores the girls told me about.
“Some people would say you were a control freak,” she says, but now she’s giggling.
“Still not getting your point,” I tell her.
“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me what to do,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me. Shopping mall be damned, I give her a good swat to the rear and point to the shop.
“And maybe you don’t want to end up tipped over my knee in a shopping mall.”
I watch her mouth fall open adorably, and my cock throbs. God, what I wouldn’t give to redden her ass right here and now, just to show I could.
“You wouldn’t,” she whispers, but I can feel her arousal from here. I can practically smell it on her.
Leaning in, I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck and give her a gentle but firm squeeze. “Try me, little girl. Go ahead. Want to see how far you can push me?”
She bites her lip. “Actually, I think I’m good.”
“Good girl,” I approve. “Let’s get you some clothes.”
It takes more patience than I have, but I push myself to get through this. I don’t know how women can stand this. She’s picky, but I’m pickier, and I like pushing her limits. She comes out in a gorgeous purple dress the girls call “eggplant” which makes me roll my eyes. Why can’t they just say purple? But this dress makes her skin glow and her eyes look brighter. I love it, but I need to test her.
“Mmm,” I say to the saleslady standing by the door. “It’s beautiful, but let’s see it in red.”
“This is way too expensive,” she argues.
I shake my head at her warningly. “Let me be the judge of that. Now go try on the red.”
Chandra’s lips thin and she clenches her jaw, like she’s trying to hold herself from snapping at me. She doesn’t really want to, though. The saleslady is looking at me like I’m a throwback from some sexist TV show, but I don’t give a shit.
“Go,” I tell her, flicking a finger toward the dressing room. When she’s in there, I hear someone say something I haven’t heard in years.
“Father Noah?”
God, no. My stomach clenches before I even see her, and when I look at Veronica Vanderkilt I want to snatch Chandra up and leave this place.
I keep my cool with a curt nod. “Veronica. I’m not Father anymore.”
Veronica’s a tall, thin, filthy rich woman who made my life and Chandra’s a living hell when our scandal hit. She ruled the community with her wealth and power, and when our relationship came to light, she let it be known loud and clear that I needed to be driven out of the church. She stopped at nothing. News reporters. Interviews. Petitions to have my name sullied until the day I died. It’s a cruel twist of fate she’s here now. For some reason, she doesn’t look surprised at all to see me.
Her lips curl. “Oh, that’s right. They laicized you, didn’t they?”
“They did,” I tell her through clenched teeth. “Though it was my own choice.”
“Was it?” She tips her head to the side, shooting venom from that gaze. “You had many choices, did you?”
Ignoring her, I take out my phone and shoot Chandra a text.
Stay in that changing room until I tell you. But the phone buzzes in my pocket and I swear to myself. Fuck. I forgot I was holding her phone for her while she changed.
I get to my feet. “I hope you’re doing well, Veronica,” I lie, stepping toward the changing room.
The saleslady widens her eyes and shakes her head. “You can’t come in here, sir. This is women only.”
“You work on commission…” my voice trails as I look at her name tag, “Daphne?”
She blinks. “Yes, sir, but that doesn’t mean—”
“I’m buying every damn pair of shoes and outfit she’s tried on in the ‘keep’ pile, opening her up an account here, and outfitting her with a few pieces of jewelry and that monthly subscription thing you keep bringing up.”
Daphne’s eyes widen. “Oh. My.”
“Axle?” Chandra steps out of the dressing room, and I swear to God she’s a vision. My mouth goes dry when I look at her in the red dress, and I make up my mind. I slam the door and slide the lock in place.
“Sir?” she whispers, a pink flush coloring her cheeks.
“Panties off,” I rasp. I need to claim her, right here, right now.