Page 67 of Range
There she is.
There goes my Sunshine.
The gloom of the prison didn’t stand a chance with Range in the room. My troubles hid at the sight of her. She waltzed in, clad in cream from her head to her toes. On her arm was one of the bracelets I’d requested for her. She looked good in things I’d provided.
She’ll look better in diamonds.
The thought appeared and stuck to me like glue. I made a mental note to provide those, just as I planned to provide everything else Range needed.
“Good morning, Mr. Blackwood.”
I rounded the table, pushing her chair up as she sat down. When I made it back to my side of the table, her briefcase was open and her files were spread across it.
The air was different.
She was different.
Submissive.
Still dominant.
Accepting of her fate.
Our fate.
Her cream suit was her white flag. She was ready for allegiance. She was ready for partnership. She was ready. For everything. Anything. All things.
Her eyes penetrated me, tapping on my heart, requesting more access. More space. More square footage.
Silently, I gazed in her direction. She was unbelievable. And, she smelled divine. Like peaches and plums and vanilla and oranges.
And cherries.
“Did that answer your question?”
“What question is that, Mr. Blackwood?”
“Aren’t we past the formalities?”
She paused.
“Siah–”
My dick stood in my drawers, pressing against the fabric. I wanted Range in the worst ways.
Naked.
Vulnerable.
Submissive.
Calm.
Falling the fuck apart.
Soft.
Sweet.
