Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“I must be the most expensive hooker ever.”
My smile falls. “Ava,” I grate, irritated. “If you refer to yourself in that way again—”
“I was joking,” she replies, chuckling.
“Do you see me laughing?”
“I have other clients to deal with.”
Unfortunately, yes, she does, and I’ll accept that so long as one of those clients isn’t Van Der Haus. “I know,” I say quietly, holding my tongue. I know Ava, and if I demand she removes him as a client, she’ll fight me on it for the sake of it. And ask lots of questions I can’t answer. “But I’m a special client.” I grab her knee, and she laughs.
“You’re special all right.”
I move my hand to her hip and squeeze, relishing her sweet squeal, before turning up the music. She sighs, settling back. I know she’s studying me. I know she’s smiling. And I hope she’s thinking about how much she loves me.
28
The roads are kind, which is a good fucking job because the closer I drive to Lusso—or, more to the point, my bed—the more impatient I’m becoming. It’s been a long, mixed day of amazing, frustrating, and worrying. We need to get back to amazing. The zeal swirling inside is becoming excruciating, and I can only compare it to a craving I’m all too familiar with.
Alcohol.
Knowing it’s close by.
Knowing that with one sip, every muscle will become loose and every thought will become clouded.
Escape. And yet I know in my heart of hearts, this craving for Ava is just as unhealthy as my dependence on drink. I also know Ava can’t be readily available. Alcohol can be found anywhere. I can lay my hands on it in a heartbeat, and often did. With this new addiction, I’m depending on someone else to feed it, and that’s far from ideal.
“Are you okay?” she asks as I stop at a red light, my thoughts bringing on a cold sweat. “You look troubled.”
I flex my hand, loosening my grip on the steering wheel. My knuckles are bloodless. “Yeah.” I look across the car, and as ever, the vision of her hits me like a sledgehammer to the gut. One corner of her mouth lifts, and she blinks slowly, making her lashes fan her high cheekbones. I feel like my only saving grace here is her equal, obvious craving for me. I need to maintain that. Build it. Nurture it.
She shifts in her seat, and the buttons of her blouse pull across her chest. It’s like rocket fuel to my dick. I’m sure she does things like that on purpose. Goads me. She’s a temptress, begging for it constantly, albeit subtly. Her face lights up when she sees me adjust myself. I’m going to burst out of my jeans soon.
The lights change, and I pull off quickly, taking the turn for Lusso, smacking the button to open the gates. They seem to take years to finally give me room to pass through.
I park, collect her, and lead her determinedly into the building. She greets the concierge as I tug her past his desk and, thank God, luck is on my side, the elevator doors open, waiting for us. I virtually toss her inside.
“Are you in a rush?” she asks.
Stupid question. “Yes.” I enter the code, the doors close, and my restraint snaps. I have her up against the wall fast. “You owe me an apology fuck,” I declare, ramming my tongue into her mouth, my kiss desperate and hungry. Her fault.
“What’s an apology fuck?” she asks, breathless.
I spread her legs with my knee, kissing my way to her ear. “It involves your mouth.” And it might kill me off, but all I can think of right now is owning her. Having her bend to my will. Indulging me. I rip myself away from her and lean back against the wall opposite, studying her shaking like a leaf, her breathing all over the place. Like mine. I pull my T-shirt up over my head, and her eyes drag down my torso to my jeans as I work the buttons. Her hands twitch by her sides, her eyes cloud, her lips part. This sight? Fucking magic. The way she’s looking at me? It’s a unique cocktail of everything amazing. My new drug. Her young, fresh face tells a thousand stories. She’s never experienced this before. This . . . ecstasy. And despite knowing without question my sex life has been far more colorful than Ava’s, I’m one hundred percent with her in this unchartered territory. Because even though my sureness and experience in the bedroom hasn’t changed, the feelings that accompany me have.
She likes my domination. Craves it. It’s my only weapon in this relationship, and I will exercise it shamelessly.
My rigid cock falls into my palm, and I look down, seeing it weeping. I grit my teeth and circle my palm, hissing as I start to thrust slowly, calmly, sharp tingles rolling across my skin. I look up through my lashes, my sight distorted, but I see her. I see her clearly. She’s plastered against the wall, her stare rooted to me working myself, her lips wet.