Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
But for tonight, I could relax. No, I would relax and have dinner with my son and his cheery nanny. I would do it without confirming her belief that I was uncomfortable around her. I was uncomfortable as hell, but she didn’t need to know that the discomfort came from the spot behind my zipper. That was my business and mine alone.
The best solution to my current problem came to me in the shower as a vision of Molly appeared in nothing but some strategically placed soap suds. I needed to rub one out before dinner so I would be the picture of relaxation at the table, and since one flash of Molly’s gorgeous tits had me hard as a rock, it took no time at all for me to grip my cock, picturing her on her knees, eyes smiling up at me as she took me in her mouth. Deeper and deeper she took me and moaned her own pleasure as if the taste of me was enough to make her wet. To get her off.
In mere minutes, I was exploding; streams slammed against the tile walls before sliding down and disappearing into the drain. “Oh, fuck!” My body jerked several times until the last of my orgasm escaped. Every muscle in my body relaxed, and a slow smile spread as I finished my shower.
I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my waist with a heavy sigh. I felt like a dirty old man, but I also felt ready for dinner with Molly, a dinner that I demanded to save my ego. Why? I knew why. It was that damn sparkle in her green eyes that challenged me, dared me to deny that I’d been acting strangely in her presence during that first week. And the second week.
I sat on the bed and stared at the floor, thinking about things I had no business thinking about. “Get it together,” I growled to myself, hoping that dinner would not include forcing me to stare at Molly in those itty bitty shorts. Who wore daisy dukes to garden?
A knock sounded on the door and startled me out of my thoughts as if the person on the other side of the door could read my mind. I stood and went to the door, gripping the knob. I sighed and opened it.
“Oh!” Molly’s eyes widened almost comically as she took in the sight of me in nothing but my towel. Her gaze darkened as it performed a lazy dance down my body, over my shoulders and pecs, down my abs, and to the slight bulge behind my towel, which grew bigger the longer she stared at it. “Wow,” she whispered in awe, and my cock twitched in response. “Oh. Shit. Sorry.” She smacked a hand over her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry.”
“What do you need, Molly?”
She turned away and sighed with relief. “Hunter is exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open, so I gave him a sandwich and some apple slices, and he’s all tucked in. He wants to say goodnight to you.”
“I’ll be right there,” I bit out through clenched jaws because all the good my shower jerk-off session had done was gone. Vanished. Like it never fucking happened.
“Yep. Fine. Good.” She waved a hand behind her as she took off down the stairs.
Despite the aching erection, her actions made me smile.
I dressed quickly and wished my son a good night filled with good dreams after he got me to read one bedtime story—of course—and then headed down to the kitchen. “What in the hell smells so good?”
Molly gasped and whirled around, her gaze tracking over me quickly before she met my eyes. “Bison and veggie stir-fry with coconut rice. Does that meet with your approval?” Her teasing tone and raised brows made me smile.
“Depends on how it tastes,” I answered honestly, grabbing a cold bottle of beer from the fridge, grateful she’d changed out of those damn shorts. “Need some help?”
“Nope. It’s just about done.” She moved the veggies around in the skillet and turned to smile at me over her shoulder. “You seem like a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, but I planned a stir-fry because it’s a great way to make veggies fun for kids.”
“Why do I seem like a meat-and-potatoes guy?”
She tilted her head back and laughed as she turned off the burner and dumped the steaming mixture of meat and vegetables into a large serving bowl. “Look at you,” she began, setting the bowl in the middle of the table before motioning to me. “Big rancher guy. Gruff. Bison. Over-the-top masculine. Meat and potatoes.” She shrugged and went back for the rice. “Not a judgment, just an observation.”
“Nothing wrong with meat and potatoes.”
“Nothing at all,” she agreed as she took the seat opposite me. “And easy to make after a long day working the ranch.”