Claiming What’s Mine Read online Jordan Silver

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 109976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
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“I’m not moving, let’s sleep right here.” I’m gonna be dead within a year if I try to keep this up. Sex, good sex, when done well, three or four times a day just might be the number one killer in the world. At least it might be for me.

But I can’t go too long without getting my fix, which does not bode well for my work schedule and life outside the bedroom in general. “Roll over then so I can be on top, you’re squashing me.” I heard the laughter in her voice and knew she was trying to pull a fast one on me.

I marked her neck and waited for the signal from my boy, to see if he was done with her or if he needed more. “Dammit!” She knew I’d let her up if she said she was hungry, because, fuck, I can’t let her suffer even a moment’s displeasure. Her spoilt ass!

As soon as I pulled out and rolled away she tried making a run for it. I grabbed her ankle and took her down and amidst her gales of laughter drove my cock back into her from behind. We didn’t leave the bathroom for another hour or so.

The next day I kept my eye on her, making sure she wasn’t still thinking about the report from the night before and she seemed okay, even when I suggested going out for dinner. The only reason I hadn’t been taking her anywhere our first week back is because I knew she was still skittish about being out in the open.

But since she’d had lunch the day before with no drawbacks that I could see, and because I figured I wasn’t about to let the asshole senator dictate that much of my life, dinner out sounded like a plan.

She hesitated for the barest of seconds before nodding her head and putting her happy face on. I called her on her shit. “Do you really want to or are you just agreeing because I asked?”

I’d decided after our many conversations about her past with the dead fuck that I wasn’t going to let her go back into that learned behavior of just doing shit to please me or to keep me from being mad at her. I wanted to give her back the freedom she’d lost. While keeping tracking devices on her ass of course. The fuck, I’m not stupid.

“No, I think dinner out would be a nice change. Where are we going?” She got up from the couch where she’d been reading and I was going through some shit for work. “You pick, anywhere you like.” I had to call Dave who was who knows where doing who knows what.

He’d had a solid week off since we came back and had taken to disappearing at all hours. For all I know the fuck could be out of the country. “I need you here in an hour? Where are you?”

“I’m in the city, I’ll be there.”

He hung up without digging his nose in my shit which was very suspicious but I had to go get dressed and didn’t think too much about it. She did her what should I wear shit which took the better part of twenty minutes while I was already dressed in slacks and a silk button down.

“I like that one.” I pointed to a little red number that I’d bought her a few days ago and she headed back into the walk in closet to find shoes. I’ve never felt more married than I did that night as I stood in the mirror while she stood next to me putting on her makeup in her underwear.

“Damn!”

“What?” She looked over and caught me looking at her ass.

“Nothing!” My ass! I was regretting having called Dave already. Her ass looked mighty fine in the high-rise panties she had on.

I talked her out of wearing a bra since I knew the dress came with some built in shit and came damn close to telling her to go change after she got dressed. She looked amazing. Maybe it was her growing confidence, or the fact that she no longer had to hide out in her room, but there was a new glow to her that was hard to miss.

No way that fucker could’ve handled her. She’s way too much woman for that twat muffin. At times like this, when I look at her, so happy, no shadows in her eyes, I want to go dig his ass up and stomp him into dust for the years he’d stolen from her.

Fucknut is the slimiest piece of crap to ever drop out of Satan’s asshole, and then there’s his donor the fuck. I’m still getting daily reports on him, and though he hadn’t done anything serious yet, I wasn’t letting my guard down. Part of my reason for suggesting dinner tonight is to egg him on.


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