Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
My eyes capture the shadow at the doorway. There’s a squeaking of a tennis shoe and hair flinging through the air. The only person who that could be is my kitten.
Soon, she’ll be mine. Very fucking soon.
3
LETTY
“Run, Letty, run,” I repeated the mantra in my head over and over again, except I didn’t run. I stood, glued to the scene like a Peeping Tom who looks over the fence at a neighbor’s house. The only difference is I heard my name multiple times. Maybe that doesn’t excuse my behavior, but still, I’m going to attempt to justify my actions with my ever-curious mind and overactive imagination.
The steam billowing from the shower did nothing to hide the riveting performance he knowingly or unknowingly gave had me panting, clenching my thighs, and feeling things I only relish in the comfort of my bedroom.
I thought I made it undetected, that went up in flames, not that I shouldn’t have expected it. Standing outside his open bedroom door is one thing, walking through and parking my body at the bathroom, peeking around the corner and seeing every single thing, is completely different.
Matthew Carlisle in clothes is what women’s dreams are made of. Naked and in the shower? Well, words are hard to come by, which is probably why I watched the entirety of his performance. The steam from the shower did nothing to conceal each movement of his powerful muscles. His palm was attempting to grasp the tile while the other slowly glided up and down along his thick length. The man’s hands are big, and it’s obvious that the saying big hands, big feet means a big cock is accurate for Matthew. The palms of his hands, along with his fingers, are double the size of mine, as he fisted at what I could see is more than magnificent in length and girth. I’ve also realized that, given the opportunity for it to be my hand wrapped around his dick, well, I’ll more than likely need both. I can’t even fathom attempting to use my mouth on him. Then there’s the fact that while my core clenched, grasping to feel something, anything, it would be more than a tight fit. The only thing I’ve used on myself is my fingers, and pain would definitely overrule any amount of pleasure until I’ve adjusted to him.
Oh, what am I even thinking? For all I know, he’s only using my image for material to get off. I shake my head at the notion. I’ve got enough to worry about, including getting caught by Matthew. On one hand, I could have sworn he did that on purpose, luring me into his sanctuary, but on the other hand, maybe I’m fooling myself.
All I know is the same three questions keep replaying in my head over and over again as I take the elevator down to the parking garage.
What did I just do?
What did I just see?
What am I going to do now?
“Well, you’ve been caught no matter what, Letty.” I try to keep my hands busy, but the need to press the button to somehow make the journey faster is hovering at the surface. Will that help matters? Absolutely not. Instead, I pull my hair out of the ponytail it’s semi-secured in, only to flip my head over and grab the tangled mess to put it back in place without all the loose tendrils pissing me off.
How could I be so stupid? I’m in sneakers. Of course, they’re going to make noise on the high-end, ultra-luxurious marble floors. How will I face Matthew Carlisle ever again? He’s practically my boss, and if this gets back to Ophelia, I’ll for sure get the pink slip. And it won’t be just from this home, either. It’ll be for the other three I clean as well. The money I make is too lucrative to lose a gig that, while it is technically hard on your body, at least comes with a meal Monday through Friday, plus you’re working by yourself. Unlike when you’re working at Twisted Oak, the bar and steakhouse in town. A few customers can get a little grabby, and while it doesn’t happen often, when it does, you’re jarred to your core.
Finally, the doors open and I’m saved. Though, it doesn’t stop my body from shivering, my face from feeling flushed, or my core from aching. I fear this is going to replay in my mind over and over again. The steam billowing, the motion in which he moved, and while Matthew didn’t make eye contact, I did see the subtle tilt of his head.
My phone rings right as I make it to my car. How I was able to double-time it back to the kitchen, grab my things, including the container of food, and sprint out of the apartment still has me astonished. Lucky for me, everything was done before I became a creeper.