Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Now the home is old and drafty. The woodwork overwhelming. The patterns dated. I don’t know how it can be dated. The entire place was overhauled by a famous decorator. The woman had won some prize one of my real estate firms sponsored. She designed the interior of the new headquarters, and it was wildly different than the steel and glass and leather that every other commercial enterprise has adopted. It felt warm and inviting and perfect for my grandmother’s home built a century ago.
We’d had a dinner party, and I’d introduced Charlee to the decorator, thinking she would like to meet other women in the area, but Charlee took an instant dislike to the designer and demanded I stop working with her. I tried to explain to Charlee that I’d never hired her in the first place—one of the subsidiaries I own did, and I didn’t have jurisdiction over who they work with.
She was angry after that and accused me of not listening to her. I sent a message to the real estate firm to move on to another decorator, but they had a four-year contract with a fairly large penalty clause. Four years isn’t a long time, I decided. I never had Arabella invited to another house party and never mentioned her again, but since then, Charlee has hated the house. I think she sees it as an extension of myself, and everything associated with me turns her stomach. She doesn’t like my sports car, my motorcycle, my office. Frankly, she doesn’t like me.
And I want nothing more than for her to be happy.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, causing the wood to bang sharply against the wall. Charlee jumps in surprise right into my arms. Instinctively, I wrap her tight against me. “It’s just the wind.”
“I know.” Her heart’s thudding fast. She looks up at me, delicate and vulnerable. Her pink lips part slightly as my cock, always at half-mast when she’s around, hardens at the contact.
“Charlee,” I groan. My hand sweeps up to the base of her neck and tugs her head back. I lower my mouth to hers. She might hate me, but she still loves this.
two
CHARLEE
I should push him away. Instead I cling to him, allowing him to kiss me with all the passion he has for us when we’re in the bedroom. The bedroom has never been a problem for us. It’s the one place I know I have all of my husband's attention. It’s also the one place I always feel desired when it comes to my husband.
“Charlee. Sweetheart,” he groans my name as he lifts me. My feet leave the floor. He pins me to the nearest wall. “Get me out,” he orders. A rush of excitement fills me. It always does when Rowan turns into his dominating self in the bedroom. My body falls under his control. There is no stopping it. I go for his belt, freeing his cock. Memories of our wedding night flash through my mind.
We were so desperate for each other that we’d barely made it back to the hotel suite that night. I’d still been in my wedding dress when he slid inside of me, making me his wife in every way. I’ll never forget that.
Rowan was angry with himself for taking my virginity that way. I hadn’t cared. The way his control shatters for me is one of the reasons I’d fallen in love with him so quickly. It’s crazy how fast things can change. But I don’t want to think about that now; I want to focus on this moment. This could be the last time I make love with my husband.
“Always ready for me,” he says when his fingers dip into the front of my panties to grab a hold of them. I grip his shoulders as he yanks them from my body. A second later, he’s thrusting inside of me.
“Rowan!” I gasp as my body tries to adjust to his massive size. My Rowan is big everywhere. He’s a force to be reckoned with.
“Fuck, you’re always so damn tight. Should have eaten you first.” I close my eyes, trying to fight back my emotions. My sex contracts around his cock, wanting him to move. He holds me pinned to the wall with his cock deep inside of me.
“That’s what happens when you’re not having sex on the regular.” I can’t stop the tart reply from slipping past my lips. Oh, we still have sex on occasion when Rowan slips into my room. I could never tell that man no when he got his hands on me, but it’s been a few months. Four very long months. My eyes fly open. “Fuck me or put me down,” I challenge.
My words shock both of us. I’m not a prude. Well, not so much anymore. A lot of my shyness slipped away during our first year of marriage. When your husband makes love to you like he can’t get enough, it helps with that. Rowan also tends to have a very dirty mouth. Or he had.