Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
But everything goes haywire when I storm into her room. Jerking the door open, I want to yell and roar, to jolt that curvy body awake. But instead, no words come to my mouth.
Because under the crisp white sheets, Anna is sleeping peacefully as a shaft of morning light highlights her beautiful form. Aww, fuck she’s more than beautiful, she’s fucking gorgeous. Her breasts rise and fall gently, the huge mounds so soft and delicious, the curve of her hips like a smooth racetrack. Fuck me!
And at that moment, my prisoner startles awake, sitting up in bed. Whaddya know, but the sheet slides off her shoulders to give me a front row view of those big, rounded tits. They’re heavy and irresistible in the bright morning light.
Speechless for a moment, my eyes won’t leave this perfect part of her anatomy. Inside my pants, my dick goes hard, twitching painfully. But there’s no sense in letting her know. I spot a towel nearby and fling it at her rudely.
“Get dressed!” comes my roar.
She hurriedly pulls the towel over the front of her body, scrambling now.
“What are you doing?” she cries. “Why are you here?”
My balls feel like they’re gonna drop off, they hurt so bad.
“What the fuck do you think?” I snarl. “This is my place, I own this fucking cabin!”
“But this is my room!” she cries before shutting her mouth. Right, she’s a prisoner, not a guest, and suddenly Anna remembers. Clutching the sheet close to her chest, she instead speaks in a low, trembling voice.
“Please leave,” she murmurs, looking away. “Just give me two minutes to get ready.”
My dick rages at that voice, becoming pure iron. Anna could work as a phone sex operator, the low hush and warm purr sending tingles through my spine. What the fuck is wrong with me? I banish the thought quickly and focus on the matter at hand.
“There’s a bathroom down the hall,” I snarl. “Get dressed and then come downstairs when you’re decent. And don’t try to escape, there’s nowhere to go.”
She nods wordlessly because the truth is obvious. We’re in bumfuck nowhere, I don’t even have to lock her room door. She couldn’t survive in the woods, not even for a day, much less overnight. So I stalk back downstairs, hearing the rustle of the sheets as the girl gets out of bed.
And in the living room, my feet pace relentlessly, covering the length of the living room a million times. How is it possible that this woman is so physically perfect? Why the hell does she have the body of Jessica Rabbit, complete with king-sized breasts and a delicious rear-end? Why the hell am I so fucking addicted? It’s a crap joke.
Light footfalls alert me that someone is on the staircase, and when my eyes travel in that direction, Anna makes an appearance on the steps. Her moves are elegant and full of grace.
Wearing the same clothes from yesterday, most women would look stale and worn. But the redhead has never looked more beautiful. Even without makeup, her skin is pure and creamy, that flaming red hair like waves down her back. Shit, I’d love to feel it wrapped around my dick, tight and smooth as she sucks me dry, draining my balls.
But shit, these thoughts are so fucking wrong, so absolutely wrong, and yet I can’t stop. Because the rest of her body is fucking delicious too. Those huge breasts sit high in the V-neck of the sweater, fat sacks of cream making my eyes pop. Her waist is tiny before curving into wide, womanly hips, and oh fuck, but they’re perfect anchors for when I fuck her senseless. Yeah, I can see it now. The girl moaning face down into the sheet as I do the double-drill from the back, grabbing that ass as her back hole is trashed.
Aww, shit. For fuck’s sake.
Anna’s just my type. It’s like she was created for me, everything about her perfect. She’s soft and full in all the right places, different in this world full of razor thin blonde Barbies. Those are the women who usually battle for my attention. But little do they know that I want heft, I want real poundage, stick thin scarecrows are fucking disgusting.
And even though my expression is furious, the redhead manages to look calm and dignified. She takes a seat on the couch, folding her hands in her lap. Suddenly her shoes are much more interesting than my face as she averts her gaze. Is it my boner? Oh yeah, this woody is fucking huge and I’m not bothering to hide it. There are some benefits to being the boss.
My words come out as a growl.
“I’m putting you to work.”
Unflinching, she lifts her eyes to focus on the overflowing bookshelf in the corner. Still, she says nothing.