Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
His answer is instant.
“My mother died.”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.”
I can’t imagine the pain of losing my mum as a teenager. The thought makes me feel sick.
“Life can be a bitch sometimes,” he says.
“What happened to her?”
“She had heart problems.”
“Was it unexpected when she died?”
“Yeah, it was unexpected.”
He doesn’t want to elaborate and I don’t blame him. I can see the pain is still there, even though it’s buried deep.
He hands over my brunch with a smile. Avocado on toast.
“For you, princess. The first of many. I like being a chef. It will be great to have someone to cook for.”
I grin at him. “That’s a great skill. I mainly use the microwave.”
“I’m sure you’ll make me an excellent microwave meal one day.”
“Depends if you like soggy pizza, or not.”
“Not my usual taste,” he laughs.
He sits next to me and we eat together. The conversation turns to movies and we pick out a selection. He doesn’t care that they are all romance classics.
His couches are rich dark leather. Cuddling up next to him as he flicks on the big screen is bliss. He runs his fingers up and down my arm as we watch, but I’m not watching, not really. My attention is all on him.
It’s me who kisses him after the hero and heroine kiss onscreen. He kisses me back with the same passion, but he doesn’t push it forward into anything more. We kiss and chat for hours, movie after movie through the afternoon, like we’re in a romcom of our own.
We move back into the kitchen once movie number three is finished. He’s listening to stories of me arguing with my school friends over who was going to marry which famous actor while he cooks up a delicious looking stir fry.
“Who were you going to marry?” he asks.
“Alan Rickman.”
He laughs. “He was quite something. I hope I can live up to him.”
“You’re quite something yourself.”
He laughs again. “Hardly Alan Rickman territory. I still remember him in Robin Hood. I’m gonna cut your heart out with a spoon.”
“I love that movie.”
“We’ll put it on the list for our next chill out on the sofa afternoon.”
I know from his smirk that he’s planning we have a lot of them and it makes me feel so wanted.
I’m nervous as we climb the stairs for bedtime. His bed is glorious and massive, with crisp white sheets. Grand hotel worthy.
We shower together and the energy changes. His fingers are between my legs before we’ve even opened the shower gel, all thoughts of washing pushed aside. I’ve never wanted someone so much in my life, rushing through soaping up in desperation before we head out and over to his bed. He works my pussy with his tongue until I’m squirming, then climbs up on top.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “We’ll take it easy tonight, I just need to be inside you.”
He fucks me slowly, until I’m panting and bucking for more. His angle is perfect and he knows it. He smiles as I wrap my legs higher around his waist.
It’s me who starts the filthy talk. Me who changes the tone.
“You’d really like me to be a slut, like in one of those videos?”
His thrusts get harder.
“Fuck, yes. It would drive me fucking insane.”
His cock is hitting the right spot, and it makes it easier to lose myself in the fantasies. That’s what they’re becoming to me. Fantasies.
“We’d need to start real slow,” I whisper. “I couldn’t take it all at once.”
“Slow is perfect, baby. I want to savour every fucking step you take.”
I’m on the crest of coming, and I can’t stop myself whimpering. My words come out breathless, but true.
“I want to do it. For real. I promise.” I look at him like he’s my everything, the dreamer in me running wild.
“You want to be my slut?” he asks me, and fucks me even harder. Slam, after slam, after slam.
I nod, barely able to get my words out as the sensations take over.
“I promise you, Ant. I want to be your slut. I want to be the best slut you’ve ever had.”
It must be deep into the early hours when he leaves for his flight. I’m barely conscious when he kisses my cheek and whispers a see you soon, baby.
When I wake up, I’m alone in his bed, and it already feels so familiar. I roll over, snuggling into the duvet, and my whole body is alive, because this is it. This is what I’ve been dreaming of my whole life.
I take a quick shower, then get dressed in yesterday’s clothes. I know I’ll have to drop into Newton Road before the office, and the thought of it hangs like a cloud over my head. There’s no doubt about it. I already want to be here more than there.
I’ve fallen for Anthony Bradstone heart, head and soul. I just hope I’m not crazy for it.