Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“Are you wet?” Mark asks audibly, shocking me because he can read me so easily and because I grab my head instantly, making a little sound as I shift in my seat.
My mind wandered to real life, but being close to him for so long, my body knows what it needs. Damn him for being mature enough and experienced enough to keep a lid on his own arousal—something he lets me in on once he urges me to tell him how wet I am.
“I… I’m soaked,” I pant, gulping when I hear his low growl of approval.
“I’m so hard for that little pussy of yours, Melissa. I could take you right over the back of that chair,” he says in a casual tone as he shifts forward in his seat to adjust his pants, lifting himself just enough so I can see he’s not exaggerating.
Hearing him say that word out loud and with his Aussie accent… I dunno. It does something to me. It’s like he’s tugging at the plug inside me just by looking at me, ready to pull it and let everything I have welling up inside for him out so he can have it all for himself.
The world flashes for a moment until I realize my eyes are fluttering. My need for Mark to touch me eclipses my interest in food or the need for it. Knowing the state he’s put me in seems enough for him. Once the food arrives, he urges me to eat as much as I can. I don’t need to ask why. He’s made of strength, and that erection of his looks like it was carved from granite.
“You gonna last?” he asks me with a sly grin after watching me battle my need for him with the delicious seafood and steak the table seems to be covered with. He’s already put a huge dent in his after about ten minutes.
He shifts his features into a face that shows me how much he’s struggling, showing me he has a funny side that’s just as adorable as his serious-man side. I could never put into words how much I love him. We both end up laughing, the slightly nervous, expectant laugh only lovers can have, knowing they share a secret world that nobody else could ever be a part of.
I don’t think I can last another five minutes, but I know I can live with this feeling for the rest of my life. Tonight better hurry unless Mark wants to paddle me around like a canoe. I’m wetter than Sydney Harbour right now, and something tells me it might be permanent, with Mark as the reason.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mark
We somehow get through our meal without touching each other with more than our eyes. This is the hottest kind of foreplay, showing her just how good everything can be when we’re together, not just between the sheets.
Melissa’s hand slips into mine once I suggest a walk along the harbour front to a shopping district I’m familiar with. It’s easier to walk around than drive.
Clothes are the last thing on my mind with Melissa. I’d rather see her out of them than with more of them right at the moment, but it’ll give me enough time to do a little shopping of my own. I need to buy the only thing I know will show her how serious I am when it comes to claiming her for good.
“I don’t shop here for my clothes,” I explain to Melissa before we enter the discreet boutique, “but I hear they’re good. Very good.” I crimp a smile at the immaculately dressed staff that seems permanently frozen until we enter the place.
Melissa’s a little gun-shy at first, but I stay close long enough for her to get the idea that this is a high-end boutique. Just like the restaurant, my name gets us “in.” A boutique like this doesn’t advertise, and there are no “sales” or signs out front that would make any sense to a regular passerby, but in this world—my world—I get the service and standards that go along with the insanely high prices. No amount of money could buy the feeling I get with Melissa, hoping but knowing she’ll say yes.
The boutique has an in-house jeweler, which is partly why I thought of this place. It’s close and should get both Melissa and me what we need. I make my way to the jewelry section once Melissa’s tied up with girly things like getting changed and trying on bras—something I’d pay double for if I could watch. So, it’s just as well I have something slightly more urgent to attend to.
I ask someone if the jeweler is about. I’m in luck, and a tall, thin man much older than me appears from behind a thick door.
“But an engagement ring?” The aging craftsman frowns once I tell him what I need. “Sir… we design jewelry. We don’t just sell engagement rings. You’re welcome to join the wait list, but it’s presently two years,” he says politely but stiffly, as if I’ve insulted him by just coming in off the street wanting a ring.