Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I haven’t seen him all day. Not since I demanded that he treat me as an equal while riding his cock.
As he goes to step into my room, he catches sight of me in my gown and pauses, that dark, lethal gaze sailing over my body. He looks back up at me, meeting my eyes through the mirror, and I watch as he visibly swallows as though the mere sight of me in this gown is tripping him up. “I, uhh . . . I came to remind you that we’re due to leave in an hour and that it would be prudent to start getting ready. However, it seems my reminder is unnecessary.”
I slowly turn to face him, taking in the five-piece designer suit covering his strong body, and goddamn, all I want to do is tear it off him with my teeth. Every time I’ve seen him, apart from in his bedroom, he’s been wearing suits, so I have no idea if he’s ready for tonight or not. All I know is he looks good enough to eat.
“It is,” I agree, watching as he hesitantly takes a step deeper into my room.
Trailing my fingers over my collarbone and down through the plunging neckline, I watch his gaze follow my movements. “Thank you for the gown. I’ve never worn anything like this before.”
He simply nods. “You look . . .” He hesitates for just a moment, seeming out of his comfort zone. “Nice.”
“Nice?” I say with a breathy scoff. “A woman stands before you in a silk gown and you tell her she looks nice? What about breathtaking? Dazzling? Unbelievably stunning?”
His gaze hardens before he strides through my room, stopping right in front of me. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over the soft silk of the gown, trailing up my body until his hand is at the base of my throat. He slowly squeezes until I’m left gasping for air. “You’re not ready to hear the way I feel about you in this dress, Angel,” he growls in my ear before finally easing up on my throat. “The things that I would do. The way I would tear it to shreds. You might think you can take it because you’re a whore for my cock, but you’re not ready. Not yet. Soon, Sweet Angel. But not yet.”
Hoooooly fuck.
He pulls back just an inch so that he can meet my stare, and my heart races.
How is he able to do this to me? One second, I’m terrified of his reaction to my demands this morning, and the next, I’m ready to bend myself into a pretzel and let him fuck me into oblivion.
A seriousness flashes in his eyes, and his hand falls away from my throat. He watches me for a moment, the silence so thick between us. “It seems you made your point this morning,” he says in that rich accent that could almost drop me to my knees.
Oh shit. We’re doing this now.
“And what point would that be?” I question for the sake of clarity.
Frustration flickers in that lethal stare, and I swallow back my fear. “Don’t do that, Angel. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m referring to. It’s beneath you.”
I roll my tongue over my lips, my throat suddenly very dry. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I do know,” I whisper, my hands shaking at my sides. “You told me you encourage my honesty, and I hope that’s true.”
“How many times must I tell you that I am a man of my word?”
“I’m not the type of woman who can easily accept changes, nor do I easily trust,” I tell him. “I’m sure you can understand that. Which is why I can’t easily accept the terms of our . . . arrangement. I need more. I need you to meet me halfway.”
“Dare I ask what that means? More?” he muses. “Surely you must know that I cannot offer you equal standing.”
“I know,” I say with a small sigh. “I knew you’d never agree to that before the words even came out of my mouth. But I’m not ashamed to admit I was mid-orgasm and sometimes words just have this way of coming out at the worst times.”
“Angel,” he prompts, getting me back on track.
Balling my hands into fists to hide how they shake, I try to come to him with confidence. “I have terms of my own, and if you’re able to agree to them, then I think I can learn to be happy here . . . with you.”
He watches me for a long moment, his gaze narrowed as if contemplating actually entertaining my bullshit. As the seconds tick by, I become certain that he’s about to walk out of here, leaving me hanging, but then he raises his chin. “Go on,” he instructs. “What is it you need from me?”