Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Miss Ricci
I hope you are deleting these emails once you’ve read them. And let’s be honest, I know you’re reading them. Just as I know, you are more than likely pursing your lips at me right now as you read this.
I’m writing to tell you that I plan to have you for every main meal, including dessert. Did you like it when my tongue slid between your legs while I tasted what was made for me?
Now, remember, don’t lie.
You may be wondering where I am this week, as my earlier emails told you I was working.
I’m due back tomorrow.
Be waiting, princess.
Reply this time.
Crue
I got that email yesterday.
And today, when I arrived home, I fully expected to see him waiting for me at the door. But, like the rest of the week, he hasn’t shown up.
I open the door and lock it straight away, even though that doesn’t do anything to stop him. My phone dings, alerting me to another email.
Miss Ricci
I suggest you remove all your clothes, leave your bag in the living room, and come to your bedroom naked.
You have five minutes before I punish you.
Crue.
Five minutes before he punishes me? What does that even mean? Punish me how?
“You better not be in my fucking bedroom!” I yell. “That’s taking your stalking to the next level.”
I hear him chuckle.
And get my answer.
“Four minutes,” he calls out.
Four minutes until what? I put my bag down and grip my phone in my hand. I am not getting naked and walking into my bedroom. He’s fucking dreaming if he thinks that. I wonder if I should grab some type of weapon, but I have a feeling that this man would never hurt me. I contemplate for a few moments if I should walk in there and kick his ass out instead.
I sit on the couch and turn the television on. That man is not the boss of me, that’s for sure. I watch the clock tick down because I know he'll come find me once it hits five minutes. I don’t know a hell of a lot about this man, but I do know that with everything in me, he means what he says when it comes to me.
Three minutes.
I watch the screen, not taking anything in.
Two minutes.
My hands are sweating.
One minute.
I count down in my head, and when I reach five seconds, I feel hands slide around my throat and know it’s him.
He applies pressure, and his breath tickles my ear. “You want to disobey me, princess?” he asks in a low voice laced with mischief.
“You aren’t my boss,” I remind him.
“Aren’t I?”
“No.” I try to turn my head to the side to look at him. “Now, remove your hand.” It’s then I realize the man is not wearing a shirt. He releases me and steps around the couch. My gaze locks on him, and I’m surprised to find he’s naked. It doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest that my eyes scan him from head to toe. I literally can’t help it. He’s tanned and toned. He has a bit of ink laced on his torso. He has no shame whatsoever when he stops directly in front of me, blocking the television. And he’s watching me intently.
“I missed you,” he says.
“I didn’t miss you.” I smile, but it’s more sarcastic than happy.
“Are you sure? Every email I sent was opened within two minutes of receiving them.”
“Why are you tracking that?” I ask, my gaze dropping to his cock as it bounces. It’s hard. And thick. And long. I look him up and down and grin when I reach his eyes.
“I track things I like.” He bends so his face is level with mine. “Have you missed me?”
“No,” I answer outright.
“Now that’s a lie. Let’s make a rule not to lie to one another.” His fingers touch my chin and lift it so we are eye-to-eye. When he’s happy with the position, he moves his hand so it slides ever so slowly down my neck. But he doesn’t stop there. With one hand, he begins to unbutton my shirt. My hands stay at my sides, unable to move or stop him as he holds eye contact with me. “One day, I will be calling you my wife,” he tells me.
“You think you will be,” I reply. “Or did you forget our deal?”
“I haven’t asked you again, have I?” Crue says, and before I know it, my shirt is completely undone. And when I look down, I watch him heading for my skirt. He uses both hands and easily pulls it off, lifting me to do so. Before I can say anything, he throws me over his shoulder and slaps my ass. Hard. I have a G-string on, so when he rubs my ass where he just smacked it, I feel it.