Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t care that she’s going to be with my husband up in his office. But the first thought that enters my mind is that he’s going to bend her over his desk and fuck her. And then there will be two of us working with Tyson’s cum running out of our pussies.
“Laikyn?” She snaps my name, making me flinch. “Yes or no?”
It’s not like I have a choice, right? If Tyson expects her to be in his office and she doesn’t go, then I’ll be in trouble for keeping her. Then I have to explain to him why I wouldn’t watch her section for her. I nod. “Sure.”
She turns, flipping her hair so it slaps me in the face, and practically runs across the floor to the elevator. My shoulders slump that I care if my husband is cheating on me already. I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. Lords aren’t faithful. They don’t have to be. Tyson didn’t marry me because he loves me. Only stupid Ladies think their husbands will be faithful.
Our world teaches us to be nothing more than baby factories and sex dolls. And Bethany just asked me to watch her section to make it known that she will be in his office. She wants me watching the clock that Beau has behind the bar. She wants me to be aware if she spends five minutes or thirty with my husband.
“Lake, that table is looking for Bethany,” Beau calls out, lifting his chin behind me.
Picking up my tray, I turn and walk over to the table with three guys and one woman. There are only three chairs, so she’s sitting on one guy’s lap. He’s got one hand wrapped around her throat with her head back while he speaks into her ear. The other rests on her bare thigh that her mini dress shows off. It reminds me of Tyson.
He’s so hands-on that it makes my mind race with all the possibilities of him and Bethany up in his office right now. “What can I get you guys?” I call out over the remix of “Hungry Eyes” by Eric Carmen vibrating the floor under my feet.
He lets go of her, and she lowers her head to look at me. Her heavy blue eyes are unfocused. She’s probably on drugs, or already drunk. They don’t have any drinks on their table, so they have just arrived.
They each give me an order before he slides his hand between her thighs, and she pushes it away. “Can we get another chair?” she asks me over the pounding bass.
I look around quickly. Their table normally has six chairs at it, but others have taken them to accommodate their overcrowded tables. “I’ll see what I can do,” I tell her and walk back over to the bar to place their order.
Once done, I return and give them their drinks, informing her that there are no other chairs at the moment, but I’ll keep an eye out for one.
“It’s fine. You can stay on my lap,” the guy tells her, his hand slipping higher up underneath her dress. She goes to push his hand away, but he grabs her neck with his free hand, yanks her head back to where she must look up at the flashing lights, and lowers his lips to her ear, where he says something to her, making her legs fall open to give him access.
I turn, giving them my back and walking away, planning on coming back to check on them later. My husband is upstairs in his office possibly fucking another woman, so the last thing I want is a visual of what I think they’re doing.
Thirty minutes have gone by, and I hate how pissed I am that I’m still watching her section. The guy and the girl abandoned their friends at their table and are probably fucking in a hallway or the bathroom at this point. He was practically finger fucking her just minutes ago when I checked on them.
I’m standing at the bar, checking Beau’s clock once again, and I look away when I see him catching me.
My body tingles, and my skin feels hot and sweaty. I have no right to be this mad, right? He may be my husband, but he definitely doesn’t belong to me. He never has, so I’m not sure why I think he should now. He wants everyone to know that he owns me, not the other way around.
I turn to go check on the tables once again but stop when I see Bethany walking across the floor toward the server station. She’s fixing her hair up into a high pony and pulls on her leotard. She spots me and winks. “Thanks,” she says, and my hands fist the sides of the tray.
“Did you just fuck my husband?” I turn and demand. I’m not sure why I even asked. Or why I even care. But he’s fucked me like five times in the last forty-eight hours. How much sex can the guy have? I know I’m not an experienced whore, but fuck, I don’t think I’m that bad. It’s not like he allows me any control when it comes to him fucking me. And I have a feeling that Tyson always has to be in control in the bedroom.