Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 83171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
So much of her is still a mystery—the color of her nipples, the taste of her pussy, the way she’ll look lying naked, her wrists bound to my headboard.
Regardless of my sleepless night, I rise at six a.m. sharp because my day is full of more meetings to deal with the fallout from the supplier who’s in breach of contract. Another cold shower. They still suck, but they give me the burst of energy I need to face each day with renewed vigor. My personal physician recommends them for stress tolerance, but I learned the benefits of cold-water bathing long ago, when I was just a kid. Our water heater broke, and we couldn’t afford a new one, so it was cold bathing for several months. I hated it.
But looking back, in the midst of the shitshow that was my childhood, I recall feeling better after those cold showers.
Alert.
Ready.
Alive.
From that time on, I knew if I wanted to make something of myself—and I had a burning desire to do so—cold showers would be a part of my life. They taught me willpower and courage—it takes sheer will to stay under the cold when the dreamy hot water is only a flick of the faucet away.
But as I said, despite the myth, cold showers do nothing for aching balls. Nothing to ease the desire for Skye Manning, either.
No matter. There’s work to be done, and I have never let anything—or anyone—interfere with my goals. An hour later, I’m dressed to the nines in a navy-blue custom-tailored suit and sitting behind my desk at my offices in downtown Boston, answering emails and doling out tasks to staff members.
“Find me a new supplier,” I tell them. “We’ll pay whatever’s necessary to get this damned contract filled with time to spare.”
A chorus of Yes, Mr. Blacks later, I’m confident the job will be done and done well. I tolerate nothing less.
And I’m right. By eleven thirty, a new supplier is located and a new contract drafted.
I allow myself a sigh of relief.
My stomach growls, and I chuckle out loud. I skipped breakfast this morning to get here and get moving on today’s problem. I haven’t thought about food until now.
I’m hungry.
For lunch.
And for something else.
Now that the crisis is handled, Skye Manning is back in my thoughts. It’s not enough that she plagued my dreams. She’s starring in my daydreams as well. And daydreams aren’t something I’m used to. I focus. I get the job done. I don’t waste time on daydreams.
Today, though, the daydreams are unusually persistent.
Which pisses me off.
Hell, it’s time for lunch, and I’ve earned a break.
I know exactly where to go…and what I’ll find there.
Chapter Seven
Addison’s office is locked, which is odd, but no matter. I’ve got today’s New York Times, and I’ll wait. I lean comfortably against the wall and peruse the headlines.
And then I see her.
Skye Manning.
She walks toward me, her hair bound in a ponytail again, her clothing similar to what she wore yesterday. Skinny jeans, but this time black sandals instead of pumps, a pink button-up blouse, and a navy blazer. The blouse is like a second skin, and those tits…
Damn.
She approaches me and clears her throat.
I lower my paper, and my lips twitch slightly, seemingly on their own.
“May I help you?” she asks.
“Sure. You can open the door.”
She quickly retrieves the key from her purse and unlocks the office. “Addie’s not here.”
“Good,” I say.
She opens the door, walks in, and sets her purse on her desk. She takes out her phone quickly and checks something, her ass looking delectable in denim.
My heart is racing, but I’m determined to play it cool. Just her presence affects me in a way that’s totally foreign to me. I affect her, too. I saw it in her eyes zeroing in on my lips before she scurried to her desk.
One of us must make the first move or we’ll both end up wanting…and though I’d love for it to be Skye, already I know it won’t be.
“Skye,” I say.
She turns. “Why are you here?”
I stalk toward her. “For this.”
Without so much as a thought, I grab her and kiss her. Hard. She gasps, and I thrust my tongue into her mouth, exploring at first but then taking. Another raw kiss, and she pushes her breasts into me, moves her hips.
I groan into her mouth.
And I’m lost. Lost in Skye, and all we’ve done so far is kiss.
My body’s on fire, and I push into her, letting her feel my erect cock against her belly. I’m ready. So ready to touch every part of her, bind her and spank her, fuck her hard. Fuck her fast.
And then fuck her slowly, savoring every minute.
She grabs my head and threads her fingers through my hair, pulls me toward her, and explores me as I explore her, our tongues locked in a sword fight, our lips sliding against each other. Nothing matters. Nothing except this amazing kiss.