Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“You’re disturbing,” I say with a laugh, stupidly nervous.
“And straight up fucking honest. The hotter your cheeks become, the more cum I smell.” An inane amount of jealousy smacks into me when she breathes in deeply and then releases it with a moan. “It is too fresh to act like it was from days ago.”
“Because it isn’t,” I admit, talking slowly. “He came over last night.” She pants like a dog in heat, impatiently waiting. “And should be gone by now since Tempy—”
“He stayed to watch Tempy?”
“No… he… ah… He said he would wait for her to finish breakfast and then take her outside to go potty before locking up for me.” That couldn’t sound more domestic if I had planned it. “I was running late. We… ran a little over on an activity this morning, so I…” I give in. “So he agreed to watch Tempy for me until it was her naptime.”
Shiloh squeals. “He spent the night and watched your baby! Are you sure you’re not already married?”
I wish divorce litigation worked that fast. “He stayed because he had something important to tell me, and I delayed the process because he likes feeding me as much as he loves eating me.”
Where the hell did that hussy come from? I should be fuming mad that my naked derriere was uploaded to the world wide web. Or at the least, panicked. But Nero’s attention has made my confidence so high unwanted attention a video like that could stir up doesn’t seem as taunting as it once did.
Shiloh stares at me with her mouth hanging open and her eyes bulging. “He likes to… eat…” She lowers her eyes to my crotch hidden by a momma pouch I have no right to have. “Down there?”
I’ve not kept a single thing from her in the five years we’ve worked together, so I won’t now.
I nod, my cheeks turning the color of beets.
“And he loves feeding you?”
The heat turns excruciating as I recall our time in my kitchen. The oven was on, but it wasn’t the reason the cookies were as hard as rocks this morning. They were meant to be cooling, not facing an extensive re-bake.
It takes Shiloh just as long to remember I am married as it did me this morning when I contemplated kissing Nero goodbye.
Rebound fucks don’t kiss each other goodbye, but it took me longer than I care to admit to work that out only thirty minutes ago.
“And where was Roy during this… foray?”
“Um…” I pause, swallow, then try again. “The first time, he was in the closet.”
She slaps my arm in shock so firmly that I veer into oncoming traffic.
I’ve only just righted the van, saving our lives, when she asks, “The closet of the hotel where you did the nasty with his mistress’s husband?”
I nod, words above me.
“It could have been worse,” I stammer out when her silence has me desperate for noise. “I could have arrived after Nero had finished what he went there to start.”
To shock someone like Shiloh into silence is scary.
I’ve never seen her so quiet.
“Nero?” she says a short time later, her throat working hard to swallow.
The hair I pulled back in a hurry bobs when I nod.
Her brow is as piqued as her interests. “What hotel did you say it was, again?”
“I didn’t.” My voice is rife with suspicion. Shiloh looks like she’s seen a ghost. That only happens when she has.
“It wasn’t on Westward Boulevard, was it?”
Time slows to a snail’s pace when I slowly jerk up my chin. “Have you heard of it before? It is relatively new.”
Her nod is slow. It is as timed as the words she speaks next. “It is owned by the groom-to-be we’re about to cater for, and everyone this side of the country knows his business partner on that particular project, and many others around Vegas, is named Nero.” She sinks low in her seat, her confusion picking up. “So did you mix pleasure with business, or did Nero take the pleasure out of his business?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, too confused to try to work through my bewilderment alone.
Shiloh waits a beat before saying, “That hotel, and numerous others on the strip, cater for a certain clientele.”
I nod, recalling the guest in the elevator who mistakenly believed I was a hooker.
“The hotel is co-owned by a man named Nero.” The pieces are slowly slotting into place, so Shiloh whacks them in with a hammer. “So why would Nero’s wife pick that hotel out of all the hotels in Vegas to get naughty with another man?”
That’s a good question, and one I don’t know how to answer.
Mercifully, Shiloh isn’t quiet when she is confused.
She works through her uncertainty out loud.
“She’d have to have a death wish… or she wanted Nero to find out. Those are the only two plausible explanations.” Her words slow as her brows pull together. “Unless…” Worry crosses her cutesy features, hardening them. “When did you say Roy filed, again? Date and time?”