Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Because in front of me is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Morning sunlight hits Sarah’s bare skin and blonde hair. She looks like an angel.
But that's not all.
She's also naked as the day she was born, and kneeling on the floor right in front of my bedroom door.
“Good morning, Sir,” she says, gazing at me from underneath her thick lashes.
“How long . . .” I sound like I’m fucking choking. I clear my throat and try again. “How long have you been here?”
“About one hour.”
Jesus. That's a long time to stay on your knees.
And yet she’s doing it for me.
It makes me wonder . . . What else would she do for me? How far could I push her limits?
I try to avert my gaze. But her naked ass is on my fucking floor, and all I want is to tease her until she drips onto the carpet and spank her for being a naughty, dirty girl.
I walk past her into the kitchen and have my breakfast. I hear nothing but the ticking clock as I hurriedly inhale last night’s pizza.
The sooner I finish, the sooner I can get out of the house. Maybe I’ll take a walk in the woods today. I don’t know. Do something other than obsess over this perfect submissive woman whom I can’t touch.
I dump the pizza box into the trash. As soon as I enter the hallway, I see her, still kneeling by the open doorway to my bedroom.
Such a good fucking girl.
“Don't you want breakfast?” I ask, gritting my teeth. She's really testing me today.
“It doesn't matter what I want.” She twists to look at me, her honey-brown hair caressing her bare shoulders. Her red lips part tantalizingly. “The only thing that matters is what you want . . . Sir.”
Jesus, Buddha, and Krishna, please help me get through the day.
The sunlight streaming in through the window casts shadows from the leaves outside on her body. Naturally beautiful patterns imprint themselves on her skin, shifting with her movements. She’s like poetry in motion . . . although I don’t remember ever getting this hard from any poetry I’ve read.
“Get up, put on some clothes, and have breakfast,” I say as I tear my gaze off her body.
If I can get her to at least not be naked, that should help, right?
Sarah gets up to her dainty feet and slowly puts on the trench coat she wore to the hotel last week.
Fuck.
Okay, that’s not helping at all.
If anything, I’m even more acutely aware that she’s stark-naked under that coat.
It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving anyway.
I keep my body close to the wall as I move past her and into my bedroom. I’m right at the edge of my self-control.
If just one of my fingers grazes her skin, I don’t know what I’ll do. The rest of my body will want to touch her too, and sheer, stupid jealousy will make me lose this battle. Sarah makes no sound as I slam the door in her face.
I throw on a pair of jeans and a white shirt. Grabbing my keys, I dash down the hallway and past the kitchen where
Sarah’s eating at the small breakfast table like I told her to. She’s also still wearing that stupidly sexy trench coat, a small smile on her red lips, and presumably . . . nothing else.
“Where are you going, Sir?” she asks, one hand pressed against a coffee mug for warmth.
“Out.”
“Oh,” she says in a small voice, her facial expression down and dejected.
That’s it? She’s not going to say anything else? That’s unusual. She's usually so chatty.
But this is good. This means I can just leave.
As I turn around to make my way to the front door, I hear her say, “I guess I can do whatever I want, then . . .”
Damn it.
I feel like I’m walking into a trap, but I can’t just walk away without finding out what she means by that.
I walk back down the corridor and lean against the doorway opening to the kitchen. I cross my arms over my chest. Glaring at her, I ask, “Care to explain yourself?”
“I thought the whole point of me being here was so you could keep me under watch round the clock. But now I see I get some time to do whatever I want after all.” She picks up her coffee mug with two dainty hands and takes a sip. Knowing she’s got my attention, she pretends like she’s completely absorbed with her food. When she reaches for the croissant, she lifts her gaze to meet mine and asks, “Oh, you’re still here?”
“What do you mean, ‘whatever you want’?” I ask, ignoring her question.
“Oh, it’s not something a lady should talk about,” she says coyly. “But we both need some time to unwind, right? Get away from each other for a while.”