Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
As he walked away, I clutched the card and hid my mouth behind it, screaming in my head until it parted my lips. My face felt tight. I was smiling so big, and I exhaled a heavy breath and allowed a soft squeal to escape as I tried to control my excitement.
Andrew Mayhew went out of his way to talk to me. He even remembered my last name. I could barely breathe with the excitement flooding my body with adrenaline. I felt like I could run for miles. I didn’t know what Mayhew Industries was, nor did I care. I’d worked for a mom-and-pop doing the stupidest, simplest stuff for a business that wasn’t going anywhere outside the county line, but this man spoke of a new venture, meaning he had credibility in his current one. Unless its downfall was why he was looking into new lucrative avenues. But even so, that was because they didn’t have me on their team.
I let out another small squeal and memorized the embossed lettering on the card. Mayhew Industries. I pulled out Ryan’s phone and looked up the business to find that it offered business solutions for software. I hugged the card close to my chest, suddenly wishing for my phone back with renewed urgency. I’d be damned if I called them from Ryan’s phone, and if this were my sign that I was chasing a real future, I wouldn’t do anything to screw it up.
Without hesitating, I called Ryan again, not expecting him to answer. When a heavy sigh came on the other end, I was at a loss for words, and anger replaced the joy that had pervaded me moments before.
“Let me call you back.”
“No, no, no. Wait.” I stopped, thinking he’d hung up, but a shuffling sound came from the other end.
“What?”
What the hell was wrong with him? I started to ask but decided his problems weren’t my business. “You weren’t here today. You said you’d be here.”
“I got busy.”
“Busy?” I said, frustration sending what remained of my excitement down into a pit. “I needed my phone. “You said you’d be here, and you lied. What the hell!”
He was silent for a moment, and my anger settled again. I wasn’t in the mood to be angry, but his indifference made it hard not to snap.
“Are you done?”
“What!”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Before I could respond, he ended the call. I slammed his phone down, and the silverware jangled with the impact. The wine sloshed in my glass and splattered onto my plate, which had the remains of a slice of lamb and a chicken leg. A delicious chicken leg now flavored with wine.
Places like this were meant to make you feel bloated and ridiculously full, the American dream. But I wasn’t hungry anymore, and it wasn’t because of the food I’d barely touched.
Discouraged, I signaled to the waiter to bring my bill. I didn’t even look at the amount for fear that it would make me dive further into my pit of self-loathing.
Why did I sleep with that man? What did he have that my years of turning down countless one-night stand suitors didn’t? I could have counted the number of men I’d slept with on one hand, and Ryan made me use another hand.
What a waste of a finger.
I slapped down some cash and left, taking a cab to my hotel. Soon I was back in my room and sitting on my bed, my heels on opposite sides of the room and my clothes in a pile on the floor.
I eyed the business card from Andrew and wormed my way into the sheets, glaring at it as if it were the only thing keeping me from crying.
I’d wasted my time with Ryan. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt tired of thinking about it. So, I thought about Andrew Mayhew instead, and before I knew it, I was imagining his lips against my ear. His bare feet rubbing against my calves. His bulge pressing against my backside.
I smiled softly when my hair tickled my lobe and imagined his breath kissing it instead. The soft baritone of his voice dropping to a whisper, and the rough texture of his polo brushing my bare back.
I hummed softly, pulling off my panties and imagining Andrew doing the same. Not that I’d let him, but in my dreams, he could do what he wanted. That idea sent a thrill through me, and I pressed my hand against my nub, rubbing down as I imagined Andrew’s tall frame swallowing mine, his hands holding me still against the mattress.
Rolling to my stomach, I moved my free hand to my chest, brushing my nipple once before pushing my face into a pillow. I moaned, fondling myself as I squeezed my nipple harder, slid my fingers inside me, and moaned when I flexed. The rhythm of my movements made the headboard rock, and I pressed against my clitoris, giving myself the pleasure I wanted. My eyes shut, my nipples hard, I ground into my hand, choosing instead to focus on the pressure on my nub as I moaned into the pillow.