Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
His eyes are rolled back in his head.
“You have an ugly sex face,” I say.
He bursts out laughing. “I told you, no talking.”
We both laugh, and then he falls serious and watches me for a moment as he pumps me deep. This just feels so raw and real.
“You need to come. You need to come,” he stammers. “I can’t stop it. You need to come,” he begins to chant. “Anderson.” He screws his face up, as if in pain.
“No,” I snap. “I’m not ready.” I ride his beautiful deep pumps . . . so good.
“Oh . . . fuck it.” I feel the telling jerk of his cock, and he moans, deep and loud, and then goes into a frenzy of deep pumps to completely empty himself.
God, I want to do this all night. “Tristan,” I whisper. “What the fuck . . . too quick?” I tease. If I’m honest, I love that he couldn’t hold it. I love that he was so turned on that he had no control. This isn’t about orgasms for me. It’s about a connection that I’ve been missing, but I’ll never let him in on my little secret.
“It’s not my fault,” he stammers in an outrage. “You shouldn’t feel so fucking good. That never happens to me.”
“One condom,” I whisper. “Are you serious?” I pant.
“I have another way to fuck you that won’t result in pregnancy.” He smiles darkly down at me.
I giggle up at him. Oh, he’s fun, all right. “Forget it, Mr. Miles. You only got one go.”
I roll over and feel a hand on my naked hip bone, and I frown. Huh? Oh shit.
My eyes snap open. Tristan Miles is in my bed.
We had sex.
I had sex with Tristan fucking Miles.
Shit . . . you idiot.
I shake him. “Tristan,” I whisper. I shake him again. “Tristan, wake up.”
“Huh?” He frowns and props up on his elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to go,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m whispering; nobody can hear us.
“What?” He looks around in confusion. “Why?”
“Because it’s five a.m., and everyone is going to be up soon, and I don’t want anyone seeing you leave my room.”
He frowns over at me. “Why not?”
“Because then I’ll be the groupie who fucked the lecturer at the conference.”
He lies down and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are the groupie who fucked the lecturer at the conference.”
“This isn’t funny,” I whisper. “Quick. Get out.”
“You’re hurting my feelings, Anderson.” He smirks as he climbs out of bed. “Kicking me out of bed in the middle of the night. I’ve never heard of such coldheartedness.”
“Shut up,” I whisper. “Go.” I point to the door. “Get out.”
He smiles and pulls his trousers up. “How dare you use my body in this manner?”
I flop back down on the bed. “You’re such an idiot.”
He leans over the bed and smiles down at me. “And you’re fucking hot.” He kisses me. “Good night, Anderson.”
I smile up at him. “It’s morning.”
He stands and puts his jacket on and turns toward the door.
“Mr. Miles.”
He turns back toward me.
“I believe it was you that moaned my name first,” I say sweetly.
He rolls his eyes. “That’s debatable.” The door clicks closed behind him, and I smile goofily up at the ceiling.
That was . . . surprisingly fun.
Chapter 6
I wake with a jump and notice it’s light—too light for early morning.
Huh?
I scramble for my phone on the nightstand: 8:45 a.m.
What the hell? We started at eight o’clock this morning. My eyes widen in horror.
Oh my God. I dive out of bed and run to the shower.
Shit.
And my clothes need ironing—oh, this is a disaster. Why am I not more organized?
I shower in record time, grab my clothes, and run around like a lunatic dressing. I hop around, putting my makeup on while looking for my shoes.
Tristan’s briefs are in the middle of the floor, and I scoop them up and shove them in my suitcase. I look around for my room key. Where is it?
Oh, damn it, I’ll get another one from reception this afternoon. I grab my handbag and run.
Ten minutes later I rush into the conference room to find everyone sitting and listening to a woman speak.
I’m puffing and panting, and everyone in the room turns to look at me. “Hi,” I huff. “I don’t know . . . my alarm didn’t go off.” I shrug. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”
The lecturer gestures to a chair. “That’s quite all right, dear. Please take a seat.”
I walk through the chairs and slink into a chair in the back row. Damn it. I want the earth to swallow me up. I look so unprofessional.
I glance over to see Tristan biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling as he listens intently to the lecture. His eyes don’t come to me at all. Completely cool, calm, and collected, as usual. Wearing a dark-gray suit, he looks like he’s just stepped off a modeling shoot. Clean shaven, perfectly put together. His dark wavy hair is well kept, with not a hair out of place.