Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Though she wasn’t light, considering the death stares she shot my way whenever she could.
Whomever Elliot ended up with would be better for him than me. Although if he paired up with someone, I’d have to rethink my stance on settling in Jupiter because I doubted I could just bump into them while getting coffee in two years without clawing a perfectly innocent woman’s face off.
Cross that bridge when I came to it, I decided.
Surviving this day was my first goal.
I’d gotten to Elliot’s place already dressed in my proverbial armor, but he hadn’t arrived home yet. I was happy I’d stocked his freezer with the appropriate supplies.
I took a shot of tequila then immediately poured myself another, savoring the taste, the burn.
I wasn’t going to die sober, if in fact that was indeed where I was going. To cross the River Styx, to meet my maker, whatever lay on the other side of this.
Granted, I was going to try my level best not to die, since I wasn’t ready or brave enough to face the true eternal consequences of my sins. Even though I didn’t believe in organized religion, and believed that hell was invented by old, white men to scare people into submission.
Hearing the crunch of tires on the driveway, I quickly rinsed my shot glass and put the tequila away.
After the door opened and closed, I was faced with something that scared me more than death, more than whatever lay afterward.
Elliot’s smile greeted me, his blue eyes bright while crossing through the living room in easy strides to pull me into his arms.
I went willingly, sinking into his warmth while trying to imprint his scent into my memory forever.
“Missed you.” He kissed the side of my neck.
“It’s been less than a day.” I rolled my eyes as he released me.
I missed him too.
He didn’t respond to my eyeroll, unless you counted grasping the back of my neck and kissing the ever-living hell out of me a response.
Again, I melted into his kiss, gladly, wishing I could lose myself forever in it.
It lasted long enough to trick me into thinking the world wasn’t dark, and there was hope for me yet.
Once I took a breath without Elliot’s tongue in my mouth, reality tasted bitter.
“You taste like tequila.” He licked his lips.
“I had a margarita with Avery to celebrate her weaning.” The lie easily spilled from me.
Elliot didn’t seem like he doubted me. I’d given him no reason to. And why would I lie about something so benign?
“You look fucking amazing.” His eyes hungrily roamed over my body.
I did look fucking amazing. I’d dressed to look like myself, my old self. Not the new Calliope who owned jeans and tee shirts and wore them together with her hair down, minimal makeup.
I wore a tailored Yves Saint Laurent pencil skirt, white. It skimmed over every one of my curves, finishing at my knee. My blouse was a delicate lace, exquisitely crafted. Hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of my neck that was already making my temples throb. My new freckles were covered in makeup, making my skin look flawless, porcelain.
My body reacted to his look of appreciation, tingles erupting all over my skin and my pussy pulsating in anticipation even though I told my reproductive organs that it was not the time.
Elliot didn’t get that message, his pupils dilating. “Bend over.” His tone was unstable as he seamlessly morphed from the smiling, affectionate man to the commanding Dom.
Even though I had put a lot of thought into how our goodbye was going to go—me being a total ruthless witch, making him hate me and never wanting to see me again—I couldn’t get my bitch on.
I couldn’t refuse Elliot. And I greedily wanted to walk into war with him coating my insides.
Happily, I turned away from him. I wanted that closeness, the ecstasy that came from having sex with him, but I didn’t want to have to look at him.
The second my elbow hit the back of the sofa, Elliot used his legs to gently part mine, hands at my hips, presenting my ass to him. Then he rolled the hem of my skirt up to my waist.
He let out a low hiss as he saw my panties, my garter. Elliot never tired of my lingerie, always appreciating, worshipping the costly fabric. He might have been a simple man, but he had expensive taste in lingerie.
His fingers swiped at the soaking material, making me twitch in anticipation.
“Can’t decide if I’ll tease you a little or just fuck you till you scream.” He toyed with me over the top of my panties.
I was already panting, my worries fading away. Nothing mattered except the feel of Elliot’s fingers.
He pulled the fabric to the side, then I heard the rattle of his belt, the only thing preparing me before he slammed into me, filling me completely.