Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Takira’s fluffy white robe gapes open as she walks into the bedroom after finishing her makeup. Vibrant color splashes across her eyes, cheeks, and lips, complementing the regal upsweep of her braids. The necklace with the diamond T charm she wore to the after-party hangs around her sleek throat, and the set of square diamond earrings I found in Capri adorn her ears.
I open the robe more, touching the elegant line of her shoulders and collarbone, the ripe fullness of her breasts, kissing the smaller right and the slightly bigger left. She giggles, running her hand over my freshly cut hair. Hair she cut out on the terrace this morning when we woke. I slip my finger between the firm, rounded cheeks of her ass.
“I’m gonna fuck you here.” When I caress the puckered entrance, a shudder racks her curvy body. “One day soon.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Oh, you were?” I go down on my knees, pull her leg over my shoulder, and kiss her pussy with my open mouth, sucking her clit. Biting.
“Naz.” She grips my other shoulder. “Do that shit again.”
I chuckle against the soft lips, kissing her there, licking into her. “You’re so pretty right here. And I love the way you taste. I’m the only one who gets to see and taste you anymore, right?”
I look up, checking her face for compliance or any sign that she doesn’t agree. I don’t have vows or a ring or even a damn declared relationship. She’s still deciding if she’ll choose me over the loyalty she has to her brother, but the thought of her with someone else sends a ripple of rage through every fiber of my being. I’ve never been possessive, but this woman was made for me, and if I get my way, from now on, she’ll only be mine and I’ll only be hers. I wonder if it was supposed to be that way all along, and the thing that took me to fame, to fortune, also took me away from the woman who could have made me happy all these years.
“Just you,” she whispers, affirms. “Unless you get the urge to watch some girl eat me out.”
I pause, the image stirring something low in my chest that moves down to my dick. My eyes flash up to meet hers, filled with wicked enjoyment. She bends until her lips brush my ear.
“I know you, Naz.” She bites my earlobe. “Whenever you want it, baby.”
I’m hard and ready at the image, at her offer. She lowers her leg from my shoulder and walks to the closet, grinning, all mischief. “Just something to think about.”
Minx. My minx.
She pulls out a dress of unrelieved white, lays it on the bed, and steps into her thong, the rounded cheeks of her ass exposed in the tiny underwear.
“What are you wearing?” She lobs my question back to me. “Everyone has to wear white, remember.”
“I’ve got something,” I say, my voice still rough. “But let me dress you.”
“Go right ahead.”
She holds her arms out to the side, standing before me nearly naked, long legs stretching forever and breasts ripe and proud. Her skin gleams a deeper brown from all the sun of the last two weeks, beautiful and burnished.
I’m unable to take my eyes off her. I push her gently to the bed, grab the body cream she always uses from the bedside table, and scoop a generous amount into my hands. I work it into her heels and the arches of her feet, smiling when her toes twitch. I smooth it over the satiny skin of her calves and knees and thighs. I use a little more for her arms, back, and shoulders, tangling our gazes when I take time to work it into the soft mounds of her breasts. Her breath hitches and her stomach muscles contract as I rub it into her nipples. I pull her to her feet and slip the dress over her head. It clings to her shape, the cut-outs leaving her sides completely bare, from her hips to just below her breasts.
She inspects herself in the mirror for a second, turning to check the cut-outs. “We got some side boob.”
“I noticed,” I say approvingly. “I’ll be lucky to make it through the night without ripping this dress off you.”
“Don’t try too hard,” she says with a wink.
Turning her back to the mirror, she peers over her shoulder. “I can barely wear this thong with it. Maybe I should go without.”
“If you take off those panties, trust and believe you’re getting fucked in a public place tonight.”
“Promise?” Her dark eyes dance with humor, and something squeezes around my heart. She’s so bold and smart and kind and hilarious. She makes me laugh and lust and live life to the fullest. Usually reticent, I find that I want to tell her everything. I’m not sure she’s ready to hear how deeply the last two weeks have affected me.