Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“You mean you want me to shower because I smell?” I ask, not kidding for a moment, but Mark’s chuckle and shaking of his head assure me that’s not the reason.
“I only wanna smell you on me when we’re out. I don’t want any other bloke getting ideas about what’s mine now,” he declares, weakening my knees when he says it.
How intensely he says it with his eyes burning into mine with sheer passion—a look I know could bring any woman to her knees.
I notice his accent gets thicker whenever he gets opinionated about something and when it has to do with me. Hearing him talk like this makes me go to jelly inside.
I do as I’m told, which makes Mark’s member stiffen harder and flex as I brush past him. I suddenly want to make myself look and feel my very best, not just for Mark, but I’m kinda enjoying the feeling of someone being into me. The fact he’s a god on earth is part of it. His manhood is another.
As I enjoy the giant rain shower head and faucet, I watch my hands tremble, and my knees weaken again as it hits me. I’m not just falling for my dad’s friend. I’m madly in love with him, and I think he might feel exactly the same way.
His bathroom, like the rest of the whole house, is immaculate. Gleaming brass fixtures and large black-and-white tiles with a giant green-and-white enamel claw-footed tub make it look like something from a brochure, and everything has his scent on it, even though I can’t see a single cologne bottle or a particular type of shower gel. I guess the only way to get more of his scent on me is to roll myself all over him…
A thought that makes me shudder as I wash myself, tracing my hands and fingers over my naked breasts, not wanting to wash off Mark’s climax from last night. I hope that, somehow, some of it has seeped into my bloodstream. That’s how badly I want the man inside me.
I hear Mark murmuring to himself and his heavy steps in and out of the bedroom a few times. When I finish up, and I’m wrapped in a towel, I’m not surprised to see the outfit he’s picked from my things for me to wear today.
I make a face because compared to how high-end everything in his life is, all my stuff looks like something from a thrift shop, but he has picked a combination I like. Getting new clothes better suited to the climate is a great idea, but this tourist isn’t exactly made of money, and clothes weren’t part of the travel allowance my dad put on my card.
Slipping into the thinnest fabric skirt I brought and toying with the idea of tying the matching blouse in a knot over my belly, I realize, looking in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, just how bad an idea that would be. I’m not exactly on the same scale of an athletic body compared to Mark. Apart from being entirely unlike me to dress like that, I know he would disapprove of me showing any skin in public, which suits me fine. I knew it was summer here, but my wardrobe is mainly long skirts and cardigans. Not exactly bronzed Aussie, surfer-chick kinda stuff.
Tracing the deep echo of Mark’s voice through the house, I see his office door ajar, but I head toward the familiarity of the kitchen. He has on a business tone, and I know from living with my dad for so long that when a man’s talking shop in his business voice, it’s best to leave them to it.
Poking around in the fridge, I’m about to help myself to some leftovers when I hear Mark behind me. I smile, wanting to spin for him so he can see me in the outfit he’s picked out, but something darkens his brow. A look he gave me once before when I mentioned only being in Australia for a while, not forever.
“Mark? What is it?” I ask him, hearing my voice falter as my face falls, a horrible feeling in my stomach making it feel like everything that’s felt so good so far is about to come undone.
Mark looks pained before his expression shifts again. Forcing a smile that turns genuine when he focuses on me, he quickly assures me it’s nothing by wrapping me in his arms.
“Just some business stuff I had on my mind,” he murmurs into my ear, nuzzling my neck and making me almost forget it. Almost.
“Seeing you have cheered me up, though,” he says, marveling at the outfit he picked out. I finish my attempt at a twirl for him as he spins me on the spot like a ballerina, growling with satisfaction as his eyes feast on me.