Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Saylor glowed with happiness. She walked closer. Small marks from their lovemaking appeared on her skin. A trail of small red spots appeared along her neck. She remembered the delicious pull of his mouth on her skin as he kissed her and shivered as she traced the proof of their desire. At her hips, faint bruises marked her skin where his powerful hands had tightened around her, tilting and lifting her to maximize her pleasure. The sight turned her on completely. She wasn’t hurt—she was marked. By Max.
Grinning, she grabbed a big, thirsty towel from the rack. After tucking it into place, she walked to the bookshelf and perused the spines. Some mysteries and thrillers, a few military and historical books, and a few battered paperbacks that looked like he’d read them a million times. Curious, Saylor tugged one out of its spot and froze. Taking Care of Your Baby.
The beautiful woman on the front cover wore short shorts and a T-shirt that draped off one shoulder. A stern-faced man stood behind her with a paddle. Oh, My, God. The thought stamped itself on her brain. This was a how-to manual for a daddy.
She turned and carried it back to the bathroom. As she walked, she flipped through the pages and nearly ran into the wall when she noticed he’d taken notes in the margins with bits of information. Eager to see what he thought was important, Saylor removed the material draped around her and folded the towel, placing it with the book on top on a stool she dragged over to the tub.
After turning off the water, she ran to the toilet to empty her bladder before sliding into the tub. She relaxed against the back and closed her eyes, trying to ignore her overwhelming need to read Max’s book. Her delaying tactics lasted about ninety seconds, and she dried her hands to pick up the volume safely.
An hour later, Saylor had reached chapter three, and the water had cooled. She memorized the page number and closed the book. “Seventy-six. Seventy-six. Seventy-six,” she chanted aloud as she dried her skin and ran back in the bedroom to search for the T-shirt she’d borrowed from Max. Finding it folded neatly on the dresser, Saylor tugged it on and ran back for the book.
She read until her stomach demanded food. Then, after raiding the fridge to find the least healthy items he had in his fridge, Saylor made a sandwich and poured a large glass of milk. No wonder his body was chiseled with powerful muscles. No chips, soda, or candy dared to fill the shelves of his pantry.
Remembering how devastatingly handsome he was, Saylor decided the no-junk-food decision for him made sense. A zing of caution flashed through her. His job was dangerous. Having him in the best shape was important. Somehow now, those boxes of healthy protein bars looked yummy.
She climbed up on the same stool she’d used for their late dinner the previous evening and decided this would be her stool. He’d told her to make herself at home, right? Eating her sandwich, she decided the least she could do for him was to have dinner ready for when he got home.
Saylor wasn’t a very good cook. She didn’t enjoy it and usually just ordered takeout. Maybe that’s what she should do? What would he like? Pizza? Too many carbs. Chinese? Didn’t that have a lot of salt?
There was that Italian place she loved so much. It was definitely not health food, but she surely she could find something that he’d enjoy. Grabbing her phone off the charger, Saylor stared at the message that appeared.
Hey, baby girl. I put my phone number in your phone and rang mine so I’d have your contact information at work. I hope that’s okay. Is it possible for me to miss you before I even leave this morning? Because I do. Please be there when I get home. I want to make you dinner.
He’d signed it Daddy.
She reread the message several times before texting back, There’s nowhere I’d rather be.
Without a class today, she had the day free. If she had been back at her condo, Saylor would have slept in late and worked on evaluating the students’ drawings from last night. Her car was in the garage. She could retrieve her portfolio and get to work. Glancing over her shoulder at the book waiting for her, she decided to keep reading. She hadn’t taken a day off from her teaching responsibilities in forever.
After cleaning up after herself, Saylor settled back down on the leather armchair that held a hint of Max’s scent. The soft hide wrapped around her almost as if he were here to hug her. The book in her hands fascinated her. She’d read a bunch of books written by women about someone little with a daddy. The author had written this volume not for Littles, but for their daddies.