Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
She swallowed, anxious as to what he’d say next.
“So, if you can’t love, what do you do?”
“I didn’t say we can’t love. I said it’s not in our nature. We don’t know how. We have to be taught and willing to learn. It has to be a conscious choice for us. Somethin’ we work at every damn day because it doesn’t come naturally. When I told you about my father, I made a conscious choice to get naked in front of you. I wanted nothin’ in return, but for you to know the truth. Not to win you over. Use you. Force you into anything. Not so that you’d understand me better, either. All of that is ego and pride driven. It was just for you to know something you’ve been wanting to know for these past couple of months. I gave it to you because you wanted it, Honey. Something inside of you needed the answer. I didn’t want to talk about it. Not because it’s hard to discuss or upsets me anymore, but because it was mine. I own it. It was my truth, and it belonged to no one but me. I gave it to you anyway. And that, baby, is the definition of love…”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rolling the Baoding Balls around in the palm of his hand, Archer stood in his archery range room. The walls were made of pine wood, and a large painting of a satyr holding a bow and arrow was hung high above a mantel. The words, ‘BOW HUNTER’ glowed in bright red carnival sign lights and music flowed throughout the room, getting him in the mood to shoot something dead.
‘Picture in my Mind’ by PinkPantheress was currently playing, and he wasn’t particularly impressed. It was catchy, bubble-gum-ish, but the more he listened to it, the more he found it growing on him. He had been digging into Honey’s playlist when he had her phone in his possession, and her musical tastes made him curious. She had many musical genres on it, eclectic tastes. Varied and random. He liked that. He’d looked in her photos, too. Pictures of food at swanky L.A. restaurants that she posted on social media, vibrant alcoholic drinks, clubs, concerts, museums and galleries. Of course, her selfies and pictures looked far better than the average person’s, even on a mere iPhone. They looked professional. She was an expert, after all. He especially enjoyed a couple naked pics of her spreadeagled on her bed—all the shit he wasn’t surprised someone like her would be into. But a few photos did surprise him, like one of her holding a gun and aiming it at a mirror.
Placing the balls on a silver tray, he picked up his favorite black and red bow and arrow, aimed it at the bullseye target, and whoosh…
Perfection.
Archery was one of the oldest forms of defense. It had been perfected over centuries across the globe.
He took his time walking across the room to retrieve the projectile, while a series of white-painted fake animal heads mounted to gold frames on the walls watched his every move. Moose. Bulls. Boars. Though he’d been an avid hunter for a good portion of his life, he no longer went into the wild to cure his itch to kill. Hunting humans was far more fun and rewarding. Human beings are the most dangerous animal on the planet…
Kali Uchis’ ‘Fue Mejor’ provided his musical entertainment. He liked this far better than the other song but had to admit, the other tune was growing on him, too. He paused and slipped his phone out of his pocket to see what his hot Honeypot was up to in the house.
She now had the lay of the land and was free to come and go as she pleased. He reviewed the cameras, finding her in the kitchen spraying whipped cream straight from the can into her mouth like some ravenous bear that had broken into his home, gunning for the culinary loot. He smirked at the sight. So unabashed. Unapologetically divine. Obnoxiously lovely… The only light in the kitchen came from the refrigerator that showed her curvy, well-built silhouette. She stood in an almost model-like pose, clad in blue panties and nothing else, as if she knew his eye was on her. Head tilted to the ceiling; she took the whipped cream to the head. A bit of the white fluffy sweet stuff fell on her chest, just missing her pretty nipple. She scooped it up with the tip of her finger, sucked it off, then continued.
He rotated his head, working out a kink in his neck, and his dick sprang to attention at the sight of the vixen of his dreams. He recalled her licking his cum in much the same way…
They’d been making love for three days straight, parting only for obligatory breaks they kept as short as possible. It was a feverish marathon of fucking for they found themselves unable to turn one another loose, resenting the time spent doing real work. That morning alone they’d done it four times: twice in the bedroom, once on the bathroom floor, and another outside on the balcony. All he knew was that he was due for another round, and he didn’t care where it took place in the house. Afterward, she’d leave to rush through her scheduled work of the day, and he’d drop into the warehouse for a few hours, make an appearance and put out any fires.