Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
I'm completely at her mercy, and I fucking love it. My hands roam her body, squeeze her ass, stroke her breasts, my thumb returns to her clit to help her toward another peak. It helps immediately. Her hips whip and shake.
"You feel so good," I tell her, the words spill out uncensored. "So tight, so perfect. Taking my cock like you were made for it."
Her movements become more frantic as she chases her second release. I can feel my own approaching, a tightening at the base of my spine.
"That's it," I say, working her clit faster. "Take what you want. Show me how you ride my cock."
She's magnificent above me—hair wild, skin flushed, lips parted as she pants with exertion. When she comes again, she takes me with her. Her pussy clamps down, then tightens, milking my release as I thrust up into her one final time, emptying myself with a hoarse, uncontrolled, “Mereeedith”.
Meredith collapses against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as we both struggle to catch our breath. Panting, my heart pounds against my ribs so hard I'm sure she can feel it.
The car is stifling now, the windows completely fogged, the air heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. But I don't want to move. Don't want to let her go. I stroke her back, press my lips to her temple, marveling at how perfectly she fits against me. How we fit together.
And that's when it hits me … a truth I've been denying for too long.
I'm completely, irrevocably in love with her. It's not just want, lust, or even affection. It's everything. She's everything.
I tighten my arms around her, overwhelmed by a realization. I don't say it … not yet. But I feel it, bone-deep and terrifying in its intensity.
We stay like that for long minutes, tangled together in the backseat, her head on my chest, my arms around her. Eventually, her breathing evens out, and she lifts her head to look at me.
"You're really mine now," I say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She chuckles, a sound of pure contentment that warms me from the inside. "I've always been yours, Cole. You just didn't know it yet."
She's right. All this time, I've been fighting what was inevitable. Meredith's been mine since the moment I first laid eyes on her. And I've been hers just as long.
I pull her closer, letting this truth settle over me like a benediction.
And together, we breathe. I whisper, “In for four, hold for seven...” She stops me, suddenly slapping my cheeks with her palms, and kisses me. Deeply. Passionately.
5
MEREDITH
One Week Later
Ilean forward in my chair, fingers tapping my notepad. "The demographic data doesn't support this direction. Our core customers in the 25-35 bracket aren't responding to traditional luxury marketing anymore."
Twelve pairs of eyes turn to me. Some curious, some skeptical, a few downright hostile. Cole is behind me as always, silent and watchful.
"Our research indicates that sustainability messaging resonates strongly with millennial and Gen Z luxury consumers," Marcus, our head of brand development, says. "They want ethical sourcing, transparent supply chains—"
"But the numbers don't support a complete pivot. Look at the third quarter projections."
I gesture toward the screen. "Our customers want sustainable products, yes, but they're not willing to sacrifice quality or aesthetic. The serpentine jewelry line maintained platinum-level sales while incorporating ethical sourcing. The knotted handbag collection, which led with sustainability messaging over luxury positioning, underperformed by twenty-eight percent."
Eric Patterson clears his throat, the sound heavy with condescension. "Miss Ashton, with all due respect, we've built this company's reputation on traditional luxury values. This trend-chasing will dilute our brand equity."
There it is. The dismissal I've been expecting since I took my seat at the head of the table.
"It's not trend-chasing, Eric," I say, keeping my voice level. "It's responding to market evolution. Our customers want both—luxury craftsmanship and ethical production. They don't see these as mutually exclusive anymore."
Patterson's mouth tightens. "We've been positioning our brands this way for decades. I don't think—"
"Actually, Meredith has a point," Sandra Park cuts in, her dark eyes sharp. "The data supports exactly what she's saying. My team's research shows that consumers under forty specifically seek out brands with ethical practices. Doesn't matter if it's a simple bar of soap or baby lotion."
Joyce Martinez nods. "The numbers speak for themselves. We maintain price point and prestige in our jewelry line, but we also emphasize ethical sourcing."
"Meredith represents exactly who we're trying to sell to," Karen Abernathy adds, tapping her pen and lifting a brow at Patterson. "We should be paying attention and not dismiss her so easily."
I feel a flush of gratitude for these women. They've been here longer than I have, fought battles I'm only beginning to understand.
"Thank you," I say. "I'm not suggesting we abandon our luxury positioning. I'm saying we enhance it by also being more transparent about craftsmanship and materials. Our customers are sophisticated enough to want both."