Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Oh!” Angie cries again, her eyes rolled up in the back of her head. “Mmm!”
“Yes,” I moan while licking her nipple. “Fuck yeah, baby. You feel so good.”
I spurt a few more times into her sweetness as we enjoy the intimacy of our lovemaking. Then, I make a mistake. I don’t know what gets into me because I should know better after three decades of fucking women, not to mention cleaning up after myself. But after our shudders subside, I pull out of Angie’s wetness, and as we both watch, a huge waterfall of semen pours from her cunt, some sliding down her leg, but a lot also hitting the floor with a wet splat. It’s filthy and wrong, and turns me the fuck on.
“Oh my god!” Angie gasps, staring at the puddle on the marble. “What do we do?”
I merely chuckle before sweeping her into my arms.
“We leave it, sweetheart, for someone else to clean because I have more in store for you ... starting now.”
Then, I stride towards the building’s back door, my steps confident and quick. After all, I haven’t gotten my fill of Angela White yet ... and there’s plenty more to come.
10
Angie
I stare at the pregnancy test in my hand, my mouth open. This can’t be! Yet I know it’s true because Dominic and I have been engaging in three months of fun-filled, yet utterly filthy sex. It started way back at the gala for the New York City Symphony, and then progressed from there.
At first, I wasn’t sure what to expect after the charity event. When I woke up in his bed the next morning, I didn’t know where I was and blinked sleepily in the darkened room. I was only jolted fully awake when I realized there was a huge, masculine form pressed up against my back in bed. Not only that, but we were skin on skin because I was fully nude, with Dom’s wet seed still damp on my thighs, and my pussy sore and achy from his use.
I held totally still for a moment, my heart racing. Oh my god, how did this happen? But it was all too clear: Dom and I gave into temptation, and we made love for hours last night. Or rather, we had hot, filthy sex in a semi-hidden area of the event space, and then the billionaire carried me off to his penthouse for a sensuous coming together.
Except now it’s the next morning, and Cinderella has to make her escape. Carefully, I lift the covers from my nude form while trying to slip out of the billionaire’s grasp without waking him. Except Dom stirs, and then his big hands tighten around my waist.
“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” he murmured.
“Oh, um, yes, I mean—”
“There’s no need for you to help out in the kitchen,” he growled sleepily, “because I want you for breakfast.”
Then suddenly, I was back in bed with the billionaire’s huge, muscular form pressing me into the mattress. His cock was already hard and nudging at my tight little hole, and I moaned a bit with shock. But Dom wasn’t taking no for an answer because he merely caught my mouth in a searing kiss before spearing deep into my drenched depths. Yes, I was wet for him already and our morning prelude soon passed into the afternoon and then into the evening.
But I didn’t know where I stood with the billionaire. Was I still his housekeeper? A member of his staff, hired to wait on him, hand and foot? But the alpha male didn’t seem bothered by the ambiguity at all, and merely informed me that we were going on a vacation to Santorini.
I stared at him, my heart pumping.
“Greece, you mean?”
He winked.
“That’s it, exactly. The island’s name isn’t actually Santorini. It’s officially Thira, although all non-Greeks call it Santorini, after Saint Irene.”
I stared at him because I’ve never left the United States before. Sure, I’ve traveled around a bit, but it was mostly within Texas, with a few jaunts to Broken Bow in Oklahoma. New York City was already the experience of a lifetime, and the beauty and majestic spirit of the Greek Islands would be a welcome treat.
Plus, Dominic was determined, and within twenty-four hours, we were on his private jet, ensconced in the utmost luxury. I tried to settle into the butter-soft leather seats as Dom clicked through a powerpoint presentation on his laptop.
“Help yourself to a snack, sweetheart,” he winked as a flight attendant came by with a spread fit for a king, complete with delectable baked goods, grass-fed butter, as well as all sorts of cute jams and jellies in little pots. “But we’ll be having dinner at Taverna Cyclades, a Michelin-starred place, when we land, so don’t spoil your appetite.”
I tried to keep my astonishment to myself because usually when I dine out, I’m limited to fast-casual chains. A trip to TGIFridays or Chili’s is always a treat, and I appreciate the endless salad and unlimited bread sticks. But an acclaimed restaurant with a celebrity chef that was sure to cost in the hundreds of dollars? The experience was completely new to me.