Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
I look down and watch with a possessiveness that shocks me. It’s savage. All-encompassing.
I did that, I think, watching my white release drip from her pretty pink pussy. The thought of my cum still in her body while she sleeps beside me makes my cock twitch.
She’s shaking. Not from the cold but from the aftermath. I cradle her in my arms, thinking about how every nerve ending in her body is right now rewiring itself.
I stroke her hair, placing gentle kisses up and down her neck. My arms lock around her, holding her tighter than I’ve ever held anything.
“You’re mine now, Hazel.” My voice is tired but strong. I may have transformed her, but this girl has changed me too. “No one else will have you. Ever.”
She nods quickly, her eyes wide and submissive. “Yes, sir.”
We lie together on the couch, dozing in and out, until the sun fully sets. Then I lift her in my arms and carry her up to the bedroom.
No woman has ever spent the night here. And I doubt Hazel fully realizes what me taking her here means.
But she will.
She’s never going back to her apartment. She’s mine. Mine.
7
HAZEL
I wake up in a bed that’s not mine. A bed that costs more than most people’s yearly salary.
How do I know this? Well, because the sheets feel like warm water. Not cotton or linen or even silk. It’s like lying in the bath and just drifting off into heaven.
I roll over and bury my face in the pillow and make a sound that sounds like a kitten purring. Then I feel the soreness between my legs, and everything from last night comes flooding back.
His hands, the couch, the incredible stretch when he pushed inside me for the first time…
…so thick. Relentless. Splitting me open while I begged for more.
The way he called me angel…
I squish my thighs together, relishing the delicious ache.
Dominic’s side of the bed is empty but still warm. The sheets smell just like him. I close my eyes and inhale.
God, I could live in this smell.
I sit up. His penthouse is enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out at the skyline. Morning sunlight cuts across the hardwood floors. Everything is minimalist and expensive but not in that sterile kind of way. The kind that feels clean and precise. The kind I could see myself calling home.
There’s a coffee cup on the nightstand. I pick it up, cradling the warmth in my hands. On the sleeve, in blocky, man’s handwriting, is a smiley face.
My heart twitches. I smile.
Yep, the most powerful man I’ve ever known got up early and got me a coffee, then drew a lopsided smiley face on it because I drew one on his.
I see his dress shirt hanging off a chair and slide it on. There it is again—that manly scent that I can’t get enough of. The shirt hangs to my knees and feels like he’s holding me when he’s not even in the room.
Carrying the coffee, I go downstairs to the kitchen. It’s pristine, with stone countertops and appliances that look unused. This place could be the cover of a magazine.
There’s a plate of food on the island. Eggs, toast, bacon, and a side of mixed berries. Beside it is a note on a piece of Blackwood Capital stationery. One word: Eat.
One word. One command. My stomach flutters, and I obey. Something about being told what to do by him hits me just right.
I pace while I eat, exploring the rest of the house. I start with the living room. I may have been here last night, but I sure wasn’t looking at anything but him.
Well…maybe the ceiling too.
There’s the couch—I remember that. No throw pillows or blankets of course, a massive television mounted on the wall, a bookshelf filled with financial texts and books on investing. No fiction. No photos.
Except one.
It’s on the top shelf, turned slightly toward the wall as if he doesn’t want other people to see it, but he also doesn’t want to put it away.
It’s a woman in her thirties with dark hair and Dominic’s jaw. She’s laughing and waving her hand at whoever is holding the camera. She’s gorgeous.
It’s his mother. It has to be. The resemblance is just too strong.
Good genes.
I reach out and touch the frame. It’s the only object I’ve seen that has fingerprints on it.
Something moves in my belly. This man is a massive success, but he’s been alone his entire life. Not alone the way that I’ve been alone—overlooked and passed by—but alone in the way a king is alone. Living high up in his castle with strong walls built to keep everyone else out.
But he let me in.
I readjust the photo the way it was and finish my meal.
Dominic returns at noon with shopping bags. Lots of them.
He walks through the door carrying enough designer labels to fill a mall. He sets them in the kitchen with a devilish smile and looks at me. “Get dressed. We’re going out tonight.”