Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
I stand us up, accommodating her demand for my mouth as she smothers me, nuzzling, humming her happiness. I just want to put her in our bed and carry on with this easy affection.
“What’s the time?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I dismiss her quickly as she backs up, me following, still kissing.
“Shit,” she mumbles around my mouth, and I flinch.
“Hey, watch your fucking mouth.”
I’m completely ignored, even shrugged off, and before I can blink and reprimand her, ask her what the fuck she’s playing at, she’s gone from my arms and leaping up the stairs.
“It’s quarter to eight,” she shouts, panicked, disappearing from view.
Oh.
Work.
I scowl at nothing before me, wondering how the fuck she goes from all consumed to all distracted. And, worse, by work. That one thing that I absolutely cannot stop her from doing. I won’t try and kid myself that she works because she needs the money. She works because she loves her job, and that fucking sucks because it means convincing her she should let me support her, look after her, is a nonstarter.
“Fuck it,” I grumble, trudging after her. Where the hell did she find the energy to run? I was hoping for complete exhaustion. I need to get creative. Convince her to skive off, and then work my arse off to prove that staying at home with me is a far more appealing option than going to fucking work. Think, Ward. Think, think, think.
I reach the bedroom, hearing the shower running, but before I put my plan into action, I grab her bag and retrieve her phone, quickly changing her ring tone again and checking the recent call history. I’m looking for one name in particular. And I find nothing. But he could have called her office. Emailed her.
I replace her mobile and creep to the bathroom door, groaning hard when I find her soaking wet under the spray, working up a lather in her hair. My aching dick, the insatiable bastard, pings to life and points the way. And I’m more than happy to let it guide me. There’s only one way I can convince Ava to skive off work today.
I walk in quietly behind her and slide my hands across her wet, hot, slippery tummy. She stills for a moment, becoming taller, her shoulders pushing back.
Just. One. Touch.
I smile smugly as she wipes the suds from her face and peeks up at me. “Don’t.” Her voice is shaky, lacking any conviction. I, however, am full to the brim with it. I take her shoulders and kiss her hard. “I’m going to be late,” she more or less whines.
“I want to make an appointment.” I thrust my body into hers.
“To fuck me?” she asks. “No appointment necessary.”
For the love of fucking God. “Mouth,” I bark. “I already told you, I don’t need to make an appointment to fuck you. I do that whenever and wherever I please.” Like now. And in another hour’s time. And then an hour after that too.
She inhales, a steely expression crossing her face. That’s not a look I’m liking. “I’ve got to go.” She dips, escaping, and I sag against the wall, pouting to myself as she dries herself, scrubs her teeth, and leaves, not looking back.
“Fucking work,” I mutter, roughly washing my hair and soaping my body. “She doesn’t need to work.” I snatch a towel down and rub myself dry before tossing it in the wash basket. “She doesn’t need to live by someone else’s schedule, only mine.” I dunk my finger in my pot of wax and head into the bedroom. “Why can’t she do that?” I ask thin air, working the gunk between my fingers. Coming to a stop, I throw her a filthy glare as she happily applies makeup, making herself even more beautiful for others to appreciate. Mikael Van Der Haus? God damn it, my threat to Freja was very real, but does she care? Has she told Mikael about me and Ava?
I trudge into the dressing room and scan the row of suits, indecisive. Unsettled. So I go back to the bedroom, to the mirror where she’s sitting, and lean in over her, poking and pulling at my hair, my cock virtually tickling her cheek. Go on, baby. Resist me. I smile on the inside, feeling her staring, seeing out the corner of my eye the wand of her mascara hanging limply in her grasp.
I can feel her frustration. Good. Maybe now she gets mine. Breathing in her patience, Ava goes back to applying her eye makeup. Playing hard to get? She’s a treasure. We both know there is only so long she can participate in that game. I am set for the win.
I push a piece of hair to the right, peeking down, moving my leg just so and rubbing softly across her forearm. She stills and exhales, her hand dropping from her face, and I do a terrible job of hiding my amusement. My hair looks perfect. Rough and messy but perfect.