Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“I’m flattered.” I fold one of my arms under my head as I watch her go to the bathroom. My eyes move from her to the open window, seeing the sun starting to come up. The sound of the water hitting the rocks is outside the open window.
“Nash.” She sticks her head out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth. “Want to order room service?”
“If it means spending more time in bed with you”—I sit up and reach over to grab the phone—“I’m all over it.”
The woman answers the phone after one ring, “Good morning, Mr. Griffin.”
“Morning,” I reply. “I’d like to order some pancakes, scrambled eggs, some sausage and bacon.” I look back, hearing the shower turn on. “Also some coffee and orange juice.”
“Sounds good,” she says, “would you like some champagne?”
“Sure.”
“It should be about twenty minutes,” she informs me.
“Perfect,” I say, hanging up the phone and walking into the shower in time to see her pinning her hair on top of her head. “Twenty minutes,” I tell her. She looks over her shoulder, and I see a hickey on her ass cheek next to bite marks. My cock goes to half-mast. “You didn’t tell me you were taking a shower.”
She opens the glass shower door and steps in, laughing. “I didn’t know I had to run it by you.” Putting her head back and to the side, the water runs down her body. My cock is now fully hard as she turns around to make the water wash over her back. My hand goes to my cock. “You going to stand there and ogle me?” she asks before turning to face me. “Or are you going to come in here and wash my back?” She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I take the four steps to the shower, pull open the door, and step in. My head bends to kiss her, and the taste of mint hits my tongue at the same time my hand finds her pussy and two fingers slide into her. “Hmm,” she purrs, opening her legs more to give me access as she grips my cock in her hand.
“Turn around,” I instruct her, and she turns so her back is against my chest as I kiss her neck. “Put your hands against the wall.” She lays her palms flat against the tile wall, the water falling on the middle of her back. “Now, spread your legs and lift your ass for me.” She doesn’t make me wait long, and when she does, I squat down a little, grabbing my cock in my hand. “That’s my good girl,” I praise right before I push my legs up and slam my cock into her.
She comes three times before I come again. This time, it’s not inside her. Nope, my girl drops to her knees when I tell her I’m close, and she swallows all of me. I’m slipping on the hotel robe when I hear a knock on the door as she walks out behind me. “I’ll get it,” I say, walking to the door and letting the room service guy in. He wheels in the cart. “I’ll put it outside when we’re done,” I tell him, and he nods, turning and walking out.
“Where do you want to eat?” Zoey asks me once I wheel the cart into the bedroom, standing here wearing a matching robe.
“The only reason I ordered this was to get you back into bed,” I tell her, and she gets on the bed. I grab the big tray in the middle of the cart and put it in the center of the bed. “I got you stuff for your taco shit.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “Don’t you even try to pretend you don’t like it. You ate two yesterday.”
Her skin looks sun-kissed, and her freckles are even darker than they were before, and every single day I have to pinch myself. I watch her make a taco and then hand me the plate. “Here, don’t say your wife never made you breakfast.” She smiles big, and I laugh. “We need to talk about things.”
“I have never been married before,” I start, reaching for the plate, “but I think it’s never a good thing when your wife says we need to talk about things.” Holding the pancake close, I take a bite. I’ve never had this before her, but I have to say, I will never eat pancakes any other way again.
“You might be right on that.” She fixes her own plate, folding one foot while she stretches the other one out.
“Before we start,” I say, holding up my hand, “happy anniversary.” I smile at her. “I got you a gift, and it’s waiting for you at home.”
“Anniversary?” she asks.
“We’ve been married one week.” I hold up my hand.
“Oh,” she replies, not sure what to say. “Um, happy anniversary,” she mumbles.