Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 237(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
I peck his cheek and feel myself redden. I hope I’m doing this right.
“Thank you,” I whisper to him, meaning it too.
And as the elevator door slides silently closed, he turns his face to mine, giving me a real kiss.
The kind of kiss he said he couldn’t give me in the hospital.
Because like he said, once he starts…
And boy, he wasn’t kidding.
My arms hook around his neck, and he discovers he can hold me easily with just one arm. His free hand finds its way to my breasts, moving up to my neck until he holds my face.
He kisses me so long and deep that we’re both still at it long after the elevator door chimes open. Silently waiting for us to get out. The luxurious, deep burgundy carpeting in the oak-lined hallway should have me gasping.
The restored brass railings and majestic views from the leadlight windows….
But it’s Foxx’s tongue fuck that has all my focus. That and his hand making its way under my sweater, cupping one of my large breasts.
Making it feel almost small for a change. His thick finger and thumb tweak my pebbled, bullet nipple to a stiffness that matches the one bursting out of his pants.
I hum a moan, his mouth still over mine. And he growls deep in reply.
Like we really are two wild animals finally done with the courtship.
He’s shown me his feathers, already made the nest. There’s really not much more for Mother Nature to do here.
“Fuck, Mandy,” he groans, taking his lips from mine just long enough to say it before he goes in for seconds.
My core is throbbing now, and I’m so wet down there I’m worried he’ll feel it on his arm if he can’t already.
I’m secretly hoping he can and that it’ll show him just how horny he makes me. Long before he touches me, my pink lips are already quivering for what he has for me.
His huge organ is free from his scrubs again, all of its own accord. It stabs into my butt with each step Foxx takes. Finally, he slowly takes me out of the elevator toward the huge set of double wood doors at the end of the hallway.
A walk he knows by heart and one I know he’s probably made countless times alone at odd hours, exhausted from his lifesaving work.
I’ve forgotten all about my ankle, but Foxx hasn’t.
He carefully makes sure he has a good grip on me as he opens his front door, slipping the passkey from his pocket.
And once the heavy lock clicks, he nudges it wide open. Moving me like some precious cargo through the doorway, eagle-eyed and making sure he doesn’t bump anything on the way in.
“Are you always this careful getting in?” I quip, making his lip quiver into a smile.
“You’ll thank me later for being so gentle,” he growls back, kicking the front door closed and taking a moment to stand there with me in his arms.
“This is it,” he announces, and tearing my eyes from his I cast them around the ornate entrance hall.
Polished hardwood floors in a fishbone pattern are overlaid with what look like priceless rugs and some occasional furniture like a small table, lamp, and a vase that I know are probably worth more than I’d make in ten years from the coffee shop.
“Let’s go inside, get you comfortable,” he says, not minding the inner doorways and my ankle so much.
The rooms have like twenty-foot ceilings and the doorways easily fit Foxx and me through them.
Big man. Big house.
Makes sense.
The entrance hall has a couple of options, but Foxx heads straight for the biggest room, which is the lounge or entertaining area.
I gasp again at the size of the place and just how in proportion it all still looks.
Big, heavy leather furniture and solid timber coffee tables, modern-looking floor lamps, and more of that gorgeous flooring all captivate me.
The neutral-colored, plastered thick walls are hung with paintings and a few photos of Foxx and various people who all look important.
I figure the paintings are ‘art,’ part of his investment portfolio.
Or maybe he’s just into art?
But looking at some of it…I dunno. It’s not really my thing.
“Let’s set you down here,” he says, moving toward the biggest sofa.
“Show me around, let me see,” I squeak excitedly. “If you can keep carrying me,” I add, figuring maybe he does need a rest after all.
“I could hold onto you forever and never get tired,” he rumbles, kissing my neck and spinning around a couple of times until I literally squeal with laughter before he gives me the guided tour.
His back is facing the huge French doors that I can see open out onto an equally big outdoor patio area.
But Foxx being Foxx, is thinking practical things before he shows off everything about his house.
“I’ll show you where the kitchen, bathroom, and phones are,” he says as if he’s running a checklist through his mind.