Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“He was here when I came downstairs. He told me about you and Trish!”
Orson’s frown deepens. He looks down briefly, like he’s analyzing something. Then it clicks.
“Baby, Chuck is pissed at me for not doing a business deal with him. This must be his way of trying to get back at me.”
My chest is heaving. Each breath burns like I’ve been inhaling smoke.
I want to believe him. Desperately. But is it because what he’s saying makes sense? Or because I’m thinking with my heart instead of my head?
“Fine, let’s just pretend I believe you,” I reply, stepping away from him. Trish looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen her before, and that’s saying something. I point at her. “How did you get here today? How’d you know where Orson lives? Who let you in?”
She twists her lips and looks at Orson. My stomach turns. I know that look.
It’s the look that Trish makes when she’s coming up with something—coming up with a lie.
“Don’t interrogate her, baby,” Orson chimes in, stepping in front of me and blocking my view. “Just listen to what I’m saying—”
“No, I want an answer!” I step around him so I can see Trish. “Answer me!”
Again, she glances at Orson like she’s waiting for him to step in and save her. “I…I tracked your phone and told the guard at the gate that I was your sister. He let me in.”
All the air leaves my lungs. My entire body deflates.
“Yeah, bullshit.”
Leaving my painting in the dirt, I grab my bags and head for the gate. There’s only so much of this I can take. It’s honestly a miracle I’m still standing. If I stay here any longer, I’m going to have a panic attack.
“Megan, wait.”
Orson rushes in front of me. His green eyes blaze, hitting me with the same energy I’ve always felt every time I stare into them.
I look away.
No. Don’t give in. He’s lying. They both are.
“Leave me alone.” I try to walk past him, but he blocks my path again.
“Okay, I admit it. I lied to you. We’ve both been lying to you.”
I look up, my vision still blurred from the tears. Well, that’s not something I was expecting to hear.
“Trish showed up here today because I asked her to,” he goes on. “I gave her the address and told the guard to let her in because I needed her to…distract you for a while.”
My first instinct is to shout back at him, but something in his face makes me stop. I turn and look back at Trish, who slowly nods.
“Why would you want to distract me?” I ask, turning back to Orson. He steps closer, the muscles in his jaw tight. He swallows hard and takes a breath.
“Because there was something I needed to do. Something I actually asked Trish to help me with.”
My head is now spinning. I clutch my bags tighter, ready to run for it. The flight part of my fight-or-flight instinct is about to take over.
I hear Trish’s footsteps behind me and glance back to see her moving closer. For some reason, she’s got the hint of a smile on her face.
“Orson, what are you saying—?”
Then Orson reaches into his pocket, and my heart nearly beats out of my chest. “I needed her help, angel. Picking out something for you that would be absolutely perfect. Because that’s what you are. Perfect.”
I gasp and clutch my chest as he drops to one knee. My bags fall to the ground, scattering my things everywhere.
“I’m so sorry for what happened this morning, princess. I just want you to know that you mean more to me than anything. I would never be unfaithful to you. You are my world, my life, my everything.”
He pulls something from his pocket, and my legs go weak. I’m trembling.
It’s a jewelry box. Small, expensive, wrapped in red velvet. He opens it to reveal the most beautiful engagement ring I could ever possibly imagine. Sunlight glints off the diamond, reflecting its golden beams onto me.
“Megan Anson,” Orson says, his voice strong and filled with determination. “My life changed forever when I met you. I love you. I will always love you. Will you marry me?”
EPILOGUE
ORSON
Four years later…
“Megan’s pink.”
“What was that?”
Orson moves his lips from my pussy and looks up at me. “I think I’ll open an art supply company and name a paint color Megan’s pink. After your pussy.”
He winks and goes back down on me before I can respond. My back arches as he sucks my clit, and I stretch my arms up over my head, filling my lungs with air as my orgasm comes crashing down on me.
My hips twist, grinding against his face as wave after wave of pleasure rock me.
Back when I worked at the diner, some of the older women used to tell me that married couples eventually get tired of having sex with each other. “You just get used to it,” they would tell me.