Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
And all I can reply is a breathless, “Okay.”
10
Indy
I’ve been in my room for fifteen minutes, pacing back and forth, chewing on the inside of my cheek, at war with myself. I have two options: take Toren up on his offer and call him or do what I should do, respond to Miranda’s text messages.
I check the clock on the nightstand, then move to my purse. May as well respond to her with semi-good news before she thinks I’m shirking my responsibilities. This should actually be a phone call, except I know my boss like the back of my hand. She’ll question me to death, won’t stop until she gets every drop of information she wants, and I’m not ready to tell her what all it entails.
So, with complete reluctance, I pull up Miranda’s name.
Me: T.N. is in. He has some clauses. We’re still ironing out the details and will finish everything tomorrow with a contract. I will tell you, it’s a bit unconventional.
Miranda: Finally. I’ve been sitting here waiting all day. Tell me what you have, and I won’t get on a plane this very minute.
I roll my eyes, not the least bit surprised. She’d absolutely do that, and I’m lucky she hasn’t already since I basically went ghost mode.
Me: One of his stipulations is that I’m the only one he works with. The money and commission are a good to go as well. The timeline is the last thing we have to narrow down.
I’m going to keep the rest of our conversation to myself until Toren and I figure things out tomorrow.
Miranda: Well, that’s good news. It means more work for you at the end of the day. But please get the contract signed tomorrow and get back to Seattle by the end of the week.
“Son of a biscuit eater,” I say out loud, pacing the length of my room. Try as I might, it’s going to be hard to come up with a response that will keep Miranda off my back.
Me: Will do. I’ll update you with more tomorrow.
“There, that’ll have to be enough,” I tell my phone, then throw it on the bed and go about kicking off my sandals. I pull the string at my back and let my dress fall to the ground in a heap around my feet. I’m left in nothing but a pair of panties, panties that are currently soaked from the verbal foreplay with Toren and the indescribable kisses he left me with.
My hands cup my breasts, feeling the heavy weight, thinking about how breathless Toren makes me, feeling his rigid hardness pressed between my legs. My thumbs slide over the peaked tips, and my eyes flutter closed, head tipping back as I think about what it would be like if Toren were here with me now, if he were sitting in the chair in front of me, watching as I play with myself. I’d insist on him doing similar—shirt off, jeans open, and his palm wrapped around his hard length. Both of us quiet, yet I can imagine him making silent demands. The aura of his dominance wraps around you like a whisper, soft to the touch, hard to the senses.
“Toren,” I murmur his name as one hand slides down the slope of my abdomen until the tips of my fingers reach the lace edge of my panties, then slowly dipping beneath but holding back, wanting to make this last. While I’m usually able to achieve multiple orgasms on my own, there’s something about taking this slow, not rushing, and allowing myself to feel every last bit. Plus, taking care of myself earlier in the shower meant I had to be quiet and quick. This time, I can draw it out, enjoy every moment, and allow each sensation to take hold.
Just as I’m about to graze my clit, my phone rings, interrupting the moment completely. I stomp my feet back to the bed, grumbling the entire time, thinking it’s more than likely Miranda because I didn’t give her a sufficient answer. I grab the ringing device without glancing at the screen.
“Hello,” I answer with grouchiness once it’s at my ear.
“Cherry, who pissed in your cheerios?” Toren’s voice asks on the other end of the line with a deep rasp to his tone.
“Oh, well, um… Certainly not you. I thought you were Miranda.” My voice changes. Gone is the annoyed, and in its place is a needy version of me.
“Ah, that’ll do it. Didn’t think you’d take me up on my offer to call. Figured I’d do it myself.” His voice drops an octave, and I’m faced with what to do next: stay on the phone or get off and continue what I started.
“I didn’t want to monopolize more of your time after being with you all afternoon and evening.” It’s the truth. We’ve been together non-stop, and while I’ve enjoyed every minute, Toren might think differently.