Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“I’m going to clean you up, and then we’re going to start all over again, that’s what’s happening,” I say. “But I want to use the bed this time.”
She giggles.
“Again, Carlton? So soon?”
I grin at her in the darkness.
“Sweetness, I’m already ready for you because you’re so fucking sexy. So yes. Again.”
With that, she giggles and I know everything’s going to be alright because this woman knows how to take a hard shafting, which makes her just my type. How did I get so lucky? After all, I never thought the little girl from my past would reappear in my life. But now Ramona Monk’s in my bed with her legs spread in invitation … and I’m going to make the most of it.
7
Carlton
I pop another coffee pod into the espresso maker, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of what to do about the gorgeous woman I’ve been seeing.
As the machine whirls to life, I think about how much fun we had the other night. Ramona is sensual and passionate, and her body is incredible. Even standing in my office in broad daylight, thinking about her perky breasts and clenching pussy makes my cock slightly hard. I shrug off the forbidden images, acknowledging that it’s nine o’clock in the morning and I have a meeting in half an hour that I should be focusing on.
But instead, I let myself ponder how wild it is that fate brought Ramona back into my life all these years later. It’s incredible. I shake my head, unable to come to terms with how the gangly, awkward ten year old who used to follow me like a lost puppy became such a tempting vixen.
Childhood seems like such a long time ago, but maybe it wasn’t. The precocious brat had been annoying at times, sure, but I always had a soft spot for her. Ramona was never as tough as us boys but it certainly wasn’t from lack of trying. She’d always been brave and bold, and I find myself pleased to see how these traits have manifested themselves in the beautiful, clever woman I spent the other evening with.
Still grinning like an idiot, I grab my cup from the espresso maker and lean against the counter. I can’t help but think about how much I like that Ramona can counter me taunt for taunt.
Just as quickly, however, I frown.
The one dark cloud is the fact that she still seems to be upset by an incident that happened over twelve years ago. She may not have realized it, but during drinks the other night, I caught on to the fact that she was still angry about our childhood fight that day in the woods.
But surely it’s all good now? I ask myself. No one can hold a grudge for something that silly, right? I take a sip of coffee, and immediately recoil from the scalding beverage.
“Dammit,” I sputter as I wipe at my mouth.
“Brilliant billionaire struggles to drink coffee,” Bruce’s loud voice interrupts my erratic thoughts about Ramona as he strides into my office. “I can see the headlines now.”
Bruce is my second in command at Dissidence, and by all counts, I consider him my best friend. We met about seven years ago at a pub in Ireland, had each other’s backs in a brawl, and have been fast friends ever since. He’s an intimidating fellow with chestnut hair and sharp, amber-brown eyes. But underneath his impressive physique and aggressive business savvy, the guy has a compassionate side, and has proven to be a good friend in the past when I’ve needed one.
“Hey bud,” I offer easily as I head over to my desk. “Did you have a good weekend?”
He grunts. “Decent. Worked out, watched a game. Felt the impending doom of my thirty-first birthday fast approaching.” Bruce grins and I smirk back. I take a seat, but Bruce follows me into my office. “You look like something’s on your mind, my friend,” my buddy says.
I shake my head ruefully.
No hiding anything from Bruce, I acknowledge.
“Well, there’s someone on my mind,” I tell the other man with a slight shrug. “She’s hot.” I set the offending cup on my desk.
He whistles but shakes his head.
“Bud, when are you going to stop letting your heart get ripped up by skinny-bitch supermodels who only want you for your bank account?” Bruce’s tone is half mocking, half serious. “I swear, these women are like locusts. They swarm.”
I look at my friend and grin.
“Hate to break it to you, my friend, but this situation is worse this time,” I drawl. “She’s not one of those girls, but a real woman with a real personality and the best goddamn body I’ve ever seen.” Bruce whistles, impressed.
“Old Carlton has gone off the deep end, huh? Like L-O-V-E love?” he taunts me good-naturedly.
“You’re such an dickwad,” I growl, turning away.