Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Round, broad shoulders. Chiseled and defined chest. A shocking number of black tattoos: a cross surrounded with thorns, a serpent, a flock of crows on his shoulder, a name written inside a branch clutched in a dove’s mouth I can’t quite make out. He holds his towel with one hand while the other runs through his thick, dark hair, apparently unaware that I’m gaping at him. His abs ripple as he goes through his drawer, leading down to that obscene V, and I let out a gasp and a shout when he releases the towel, letting it fall, revealing a toned and tanned ass and smooth, muscular thighs, and holy shit—
“Prime! Your dick’s out!”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “No kidding. I’m getting dressed.”
“But—but—but—“ Holy wow, oh my geez, heavens above, my word, my, my, my—
My head’s glitching.
That’s the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.
Not that I have much experience, but still, he’s hung. Veiny and beautiful. I wonder if I can even wrap my hand around it. I’d need two to stroke him, and it’d stretch my mouth wide—
“Deanna. Eyes up here.” He’s grinning massively when I force myself to stop studying his privates. “Would you please refrain from objectifying me?”
“You’re naked!”
“It’s my bedroom.” He pulls on a pair of boxer briefs and I notice he’s not rushing. “Do I have to dress in the closet like a weirdo while we’re married?”
“No, I mean, I get it, but—“
“Yes, I have a lovely dick. I’ve been told by many women. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to let you taste it.”
“Prime!”
“Just an innocent offer.”
“That’s not innocent.” I look down despite myself, and fuuuuuuuuuck me, he’s getting hard. “It’s not innocent at all.”
He touches himself. Grips his dick so it shows as an outline in his boxer briefs and acts like he’s surprised. “Huh, look at that. Just thinking about you licking and sucking my big dick gets me all aroused.”
I pull the blankets over my head. “I hate this.”
“You really don’t.”
I’m extremely mortified, but what did I expect? Prime’s not exactly shy about his body. And I’ve seen him before in the past, though never like this. I’ve only caught glimpses and usually he’s been buried inside pretty and happy-looking women (and now I know why they always seemed so eager to return).
He’s right that I can’t expect him to change in the closet every day. It’s his room too and he has every right to dress like a normal person. Still, I would’ve liked some warning, and maybe a few months to get used to the idea of seeing his body like that.
The bed creaks as he gets in. The lights snap out. I focus on my phone, trying to act like Prime’s not lying next to me. I glance over and notice he put on a black t-shirt but nothing else on the bottom, only those same briefs. He’s frowning and typing something, responding to an email.
Normal. This is normal. It has to be normal, right? We’re married and trying to make it work, and besides, it’s Prime. We’ve been working together for years. I know him, know his habits, I can probably guess exactly who he’s messaging and what he’s saying based entirely on his facial expression. He’s not a stranger.
Then why does it feel like I’m doing something wrong?
“Go to sleep and stop thinking about my genitals.” Prime rolls over and plugs his phone in.
“I wasn’t—“ I stop the denial and decide to ignore him.
Stupid, childish husband.
But sleep doesn’t come. I have a lot of work tomorrow. Not only am I still Prime’s assistant, which is an arrangement we really need to discuss, but the movers are coming with most of my stuff. I have to navigate how my parents will react to me leaving the house, especially my mother, while making sure the nurse can pick up the slack. Stress sits on my chest like a tomb and then there’s Prime’s dick like a magical balm to all my troubles floating through my stupid brain.
“You’re still awake.” His voice cuts through the dark.
“I guess you are too.”
“Usually I can power down in a few seconds.”
“You’re a robot. Great to know.”
He shifts. I peek, curled on my side. He’s looking at the ceiling, face outlined in gray from the window. “What did you tell your parents about us?”
“You really want to talk about this now?”
“I’m curious.”
“I didn’t tell them anything.”
A hint of a frown. “How’s that work? You’re hoping they won’t notice you’re gone?”
“I told them I got my own place. Turns out, my mother doesn’t ask questions, and my father’s incapable of caring either way.”
“I see.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Yes and no. You obviously know how to handle your parents better than I do. But still… we’re married.”
“What would be the point? My mother would only worry and complain that I didn’t invite her to the wedding. My father would only forget. Why introduce that to their lives?”