Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
We’re not staying in the city anymore. When Calvin’s dad died from a massive stroke, we came to Connecticut to stay with his mom. She didn’t want to be alone, and Calvin thought it would be good for us to get out of the city for a while.
“For a while” turned into much longer, and then he sprung what I assume was his master plan all along—let’s just move here. Of course we’ll keep our place in the city, and we can visit any time we want to see aunt Charity or catch a show, but primarily, let’s stay at the Connecticut house and enjoy all it has to offer.
Surprisingly, after years of yearning to live in New York and years of enjoying the city, I liked the idea. As big as the penthouse was, this place is much bigger. There’s plenty of room to chase the baby around, and Marie loves it, too.
I’ve stopped illustrating for other people altogether, so I don’t go into the city all that much. Calvin still has to drive in to work, but he generally leaves earlier so he can get home and spend time with us. It was important to him that Ariella have wide open spaces to explore when she starts to walk, not the busy, congested, at times dangerous city.
He’s a protective father, but I should have known he would be. He’s protective of me, and I’m certainly not his little girl.
His good girl, yes.
His little girl, no.
I bite down on my bottom lip, wishing Calvin didn’t have to work late tonight. I’m dying to show him the proof of my book, and… well, a few other things.
Rose is already in bed, so now that Ariella is, I have the house to myself.
I walk softly down the hall away from her room. Since I have nothing pressing to do, I pause outside the room near hers that we talked about turning into Eli’s room, if we ever have a boy. I push open the door and stand in the doorway, looking at the wall where I’d paint the mural.
Calvin’s analogy about the alkali flies really stuck with me. It started with sketches and characters I dreamed up, but now I have an actual book—my pictures, my own story—to put between my William the hippo book ends. I have plans to write more, too. A whole series of adventures for Eli the adventurous little fly.
I keep the bookends in Eli’s room right now. It acts as Ariella’s play room at the moment, since we don’t actually have Elias yet.
Not for lack of trying.
I smile faintly, thinking of all the nights Calvin and I have spent tangled in the bed sheets—or, in my case, sometimes shoved face-first into a pillow.
It’s not that late, but I’m starting to get tired. I don’t want to fall asleep before Calvin gets home, so I consider taking a shower.
I would have liked to do that with him—showers with him are always fun—but I need something to wake me up, and that might do the trick.
When I get to the bedroom, though, something feels off. I don’t know how to explain it, just an energy in the room that shouldn’t be there.
Calvin.
I gasp as the door closes behind me and pivot, holding up the only weapon I have—a child’s hardback book—just in case it isn’t him.
Leaning against the door, looking handsome as hell in his black dress slacks with his snowy white shirtsleeves rolled up and his gray tie tugged loose, Calvin says, “What, are you gonna hit me with it?”
“Maybe,” I say, backing up a step even though it’s him.
His prey drive kicks in, seeing an opportunity to chase me. His dark eyes glint with that dangerous heat that excites me so much, and he lunges forward, sending my heart to my toes as he grabs a handful of my hair.
I’ve come to crave the times he takes me like this. He’s come to enjoy the times when it’s tender and sweet. We’ve opened each other’s eyes to all sorts of fun things…
I even survived the impaling machine after a particularly bratty incident. I was sore for days and had to take his cock in my battered pussy extra times anyway, but even when he makes me ache for him, I can’t deny I want the twisted bastard.
Well, sometimes I do, and he likes that, too.
I lick my lips, my own eyes darkening as he backs me toward the bed.
He’s not in the mood to play much tonight. He shoves me forward, unzipping and taking out his cock as he does. I’m bent over the bed at an awkward angle, but he shoves into me anyway. I claw at the soft bedding, trying to find a good grip, but we end up on the floor, me on my stomach, Calvin behind me driving into me and dominating my needy body.