Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
With. Me.
As we’ve both learned the hard way, time is our most precious, irreplaceable resource. He’s lavished me with his, and for that, I am appropriately impressed.
I was especially touched by the seven hours at Coney Island. Carnival rides and boardwalks packed with screaming, sweaty kids are clearly not Hunter’s favorite thing, but he didn’t complain. And I’m pretty sure he enjoyed himself on the Ferris wheel, even if he did spend the entire ride pointing out all the parts of the neighborhood that would be underwater by 2050 if serious infrastructure changes weren’t made to mitigate storm surge.
Sigh…he’s so hot when he uses words like “mitigate” and “infrastructure.”
We’ve done a lot of talking about his business this week, and I think I finally understand what a private equity firm does. We’ve talked about my future business ideas, too, and Hunter’s been a great help when it comes to pointing out potential cash flow pitfalls for various start-ups. He’s bought, reconfigured, and sold so many different kinds of companies that he has a wide swath of expertise.
He’s also an expert at shooting holes in my exciting new business-idea balloons with alarming regularity. But I like that he’s challenging me to come up with a venture that will stand out in a crowded marketplace, have longevity, and withstand the AI revolution that’s on track to eliminate so many jobs in the coming decades.
I know if I earn a “you could have something there,” from my hard-ass boyfriend, that I’m not wasting my time continuing to study and research.
So far, I haven’t settled on any one thing—I’m still in the brainstorming phase—but I’m in no big rush. Sweet Pussy Café is still turning a profit, even after hiring staff, so I won’t be destitute anytime soon. And for now, Hunter is insisting on paying for everything.
Including the ridiculously expensive 1940s Dior navy silk cocktail dress that I slip into after my shower. He bought it from a collector who’d had it wrapped in acid-free paper in a windowless room for thirty years. It’s in perfect condition, and I’m sure the fact that I’m actually wearing it out in the filthy, light-polluted world would give the collector an aneurysm.
But clothes are meant to be worn, especially gorgeous ones like this…
I smooth the silk lovingly over my hips as I check my reflection in the floor-length mirror in the closet. I’m evaluating whether a navy pump or a sandal is the best shoe choice, when Hunter appears behind me, like some kind of sweaty ninja.
I jump and exhale a startled sound, laughing as I meet his amused gaze in the reflection. “You scared me. Again. How are you so quiet when you walk? You’re huge.” I tilt my head to one side, offering him my cheek as he leans in for kiss, humming as the salty musk of a man fresh from the gym hits my nose. I even love the way this man smells when he’s sweaty, proving this crush is probably getting out of hand. “How was your workout?”
“Good. How was yoga?”
“Good. My balance is getting better, I think. My tree pose…” I trail off as his hand settles on my lower back before smoothing slowly over my bottom, sending a ripple of awareness across my skin. I clear my throat. “See something you like, Mr. M?”
He rumbles thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on my backside. “Yes, very much. Your ass in silk… I’d write poetry about it if I were that sort of man.”
“And who says you can’t be?” I ask, pressing back against his hand, loving the way his expression sharpens with desire. “I think you can be anything you want to be. Including the kind of man who resists the urge to bend me over the bed and shove my skirt up from behind. If you do anything to put the integrity of this garment at risk, I will be very disappointed in you.”
He drags his gaze back to meet mine in the mirror, his lips hooking up on one side. “Fine. I’ll go jerk off in a cold shower instead.”
“Don’t you dare,” I call after him as he turns away, disappearing into the bathroom. “I could be in my fertile window in as little as five or six days. That sperm is mine, buddy. If you waste a drop, you’re going to be answering to me.”
He pops his head back in, heat in his gaze that makes my already taut nipples tingle. “Then you’d better get out of that dress and spread your legs, little girl. Right now. I’m hard as nails for you, and I need to come.”
Fuck…
He knows what he does to me when he talks like that. I’m instantly wet enough to put my dress in peril, anyway.
Still, I make a big show of slowly drawing down the zipper and stepping out of the garment before draping it gently over the padded chair in the corner of the closet, keenly aware of his eyes hot on me the entire time. With my back still turned, I flick open the hooks on my bra, letting it slide down my arms onto the carpet before turning back to him in nothing but my tiny black lace panties.