Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
‘Jesus!’ he barks, resting back on his heels and yanking my vest and bra down before positioning his erection between my breasts and spilling his seed all over my chest. He pants, sweating and wet, rolling himself around, spreading himself everywhere.
Marked.
‘Wherever, whenever, baby.’ he puffs, leaning down and hitting me with a forceful attack of his lips. I accept this willingly, too, letting him continue to take whatever he wants. ‘Fucking perfect.’
‘Hmmm,’ I hum, not needing to actually say anything. It was perfect. He is perfect. ‘Come here.’ He sits up, re-arranges my bra and top before standing and lifting me. He carries me to the table, puts me on my chair and points at my plate. ‘Finish your dinner.’
‘I didn’t throw up.’ I say, almost proudly.
‘Well done.’
‘Why didn’t you come in my mouth?’ I ask, as he buttons up his fly.
His serious face falters, but only a little. Taking his seat, he nods at my knife and fork in a silent instruction, and then takes his own. ‘Might poison the babies.’
If I had a mouthful of lamb, I’d choke, but instead I splutter all over the place in a helpless fit of laughter. ‘What?’ I giggle.
He doesn’t repeat himself, he just winks, and I fall in love that little bit more. ‘Eat your dinner, lady.’
Grinning at my plate, I resume my meal, utterly satisfied, despite my lack of orgasm. I’m still bubbling slightly, but I’m not concerned. ‘What are we doing tomorrow?’ I ask.
‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bingeing.’
‘You’re keeping me locked up in Paradise all weekend?’ I don’t mind, but it would be nice to go for a walk, perhaps, or maybe even have dinner.
‘I wasn’t going to, but locks can be arranged.’ He slips his fork into his mouth and pulls off a piece of stuffed pepper slowly as he looks at me with raised eyebrows. I’m putting ideas in his head.
There’s no comeback from me. I just widen my grin, consumed with happiness as I continue my attempts to finish my meal.
‘God, I love that fucking grin. Show me.’
I’m not grinning now. I’m smiling properly, and he blesses me with his one reserved only for me, twinkling eyes and all. ‘Happy?’ I ask.
‘Fucking delirious.’
Chapter 24
I know that I’m smiling in my sleep. I don’t even need to open my eyes to grasp my bearings. The cool sea breeze wafting in from the open doors, the mix of salty sea air and that pungent perfume is all the reminder I need. Both of those aromas, though, don’t overpower my most favourite scent in the world that’s embedded in every fibre of the crisp cotton sheets that he’s slept in. But he’s not in the bed.
Opening my eyes, the first thing I see is a ginger biscuit, some folic acid and a glass of water. I smile, collecting the pills and swallowing with the water before munching my way through the biscuit. I shuffle to the edge of the bed and don’t bother with underwear or clothes. We’re alone on a deserted beach, and I haven’t forgotten his demand for me to come down to breakfast just like this every morning, except now I can without the worry of Cathy arriving. So I take my naked form out into the main part of the villa to seek out my Lord, but after a few moments of searching, no Lord. I notice the voile at the doors of the living area that lead to the veranda are flapping as the light wind gusts through, so I fight my way through the mass of moving material until I’m on the wooden veranda and taking a deep inhale of fresh air. Perfect. It’s early because the sun is low, but the heat is intense, only slightly weakened by the breeze which is whipping my hair all over my face. I fight to secure it in a loose, messy knot and once my vision is clear, I see him in the distance. He’s running, and he’s running in loose shorts, no t-shirt and no trainers. I lean on the wooden balustrade and happily watch him get closer and closer, his muscular frame shimmering under the morning sun. He could be a mirage.
‘Morning,’ I chirp when he’s a few yards away, sweating and actually a little out of breath. This is unusual. He’s a robot when running, never displaying any signs of fatigue or over exertion.
He grabs a towel that’s draped over a railing and starts rubbing himself on a smile. ‘Good morning, indeed.’ His eyes travel down my nakedness, which is only slightly concealed by the posts that I’m standing behind. ‘How do you feel?’
I have a quick think and do a bodily assessment, concluding that I feel perfect. I don’t feel sick at all. ‘Fine.’
‘Good,’ he approaches the pavilion and looks up at me. ‘Give me a kiss.’