Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
The next day I went through five different outfits before I felt comfortable in the yellow sundress that came down to just below my knees and showed off my girls to their best advantage. A pair of four-inch Manolas and a nice little spring shawl just in case the weather changed rounded out the outfit. I would’ve called Nat to come over and help with hair and makeup because my fingers were like Jell-O, but she’s disappeared with the hunky security guy.
I decided on a messy updo with tendrils hanging by my temples and went with my new sassy look with eye shadow and foundation, the whole nine. I’d spent part of those two years learning how to do makeup from YouTube videos and tutorials until I was damn near an expert.
When the doorbell rang, my knees almost gave out before I reached the door. I’ve never been so nervous in my life, not even on my wedding day. He was scrumptious; I don’t think I breathed for the first half a minute he was standing there. A button-down black shirt with the sleeves rolled back to just beneath his elbows and jeans that ooh lawd.
I don’t know what kind of shoes he had on because there was something in the way of my view, and I was afraid if I looked there, he might think I was looking at his dick. “You.” I started to speak before I found myself being pushed back inside with the door slamming behind us, my back to the wall, and his tongue about to give me a tonsillectomy.
Damn, his hands around me felt so good. They were just as strong as I remembered. The way he ate at my lips, my pussy started leaking in my brand spanking new panties, and I hadn’t even left the house yet. His chest felt hard and firm, and I was dying to get my hands on his bare flesh. I started to lift my hands to run them over his chest but stopped, unsure of myself.
The only man I’d ever been to bed with didn’t like to be touched. Mommy dearest didn’t think it was necessary. I know he asked me not to think of my ex and my past when we’re together, but it’s not that easy. It’s all I have to compare this to, and so far, Mace has won hands down, and I’ve only known him for a week.
“Stephanie, let’s make a deal.” He nibbled his way down my neck, and I would’ve offered him anything.
“Anything, what is it?”
“The next time you think about your ex when I’m with you, I get to hurt you. Not just punish you like last night. It will be more intense, and there will be pain.”
“You mean more than what you did to my ass?”
“It’s up to you. You’re lucky I haven’t marked you yet, or that punishment would start now. Last warning, let’s go.” He took my hand and walked us out, waiting for me to lock the door, and I still hadn’t found my voice.
As expected, we got a lot of stares as we walked in, and the hostess took us to our table. I knew of this place but had never been. This is where the ‘it’ girls went for their happy hour cocktails and Sunday brunches where they played catchup from the week before.
It had always catered to a certain crowd that I’d never been a part of; even with all daddy’s money, he couldn’t buy me acceptance among the thinner, more beautiful daughters of his peers. I felt self-conscious and stupid as he pulled out my chair because I knew that all the eyes that were on us were wondering the same thing, what the hell is he doing with her?
“Open your menu, Stephanie.” So bossy! My eyes gravitated to the praline pancakes with bacon and eggs, ooh, and home fries and eggs. Did I say eggs? The waitress came back to the table, and I bit into my bottom lip. This was probably the last time I’d ever step foot in this place, and I heard their brunch was the best in the city. Too bad I won’t really get to enjoy it.
“Bring us a bottle of Dom and a pitcher of orange juice, cold. What would you like to eat, Stephanie?” I looked up at the server with a smile, and she smiled back. I could feel the eyes in the room on me and knew I couldn’t do it—two years of hard work down the drain.
“I’ll just have two poached eggs on dry whole-wheat toast, please.”
“She’ll have the praline pancakes with those poached eggs and bacon and a side of home fries. Tell the chef to add extra onion and peppers. I’ll have a Greek omelet with a side of French toast. Thank you, Marcia.”