Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
His lips tilt quite sinfully as he tips forward and presses them to the inside of my left knee. “The benefits of having a nubile wife,” he asserts smuttily.
“You’re such a cliché, marrying your secretary.”
He drops to his knees and slides his hands up my thighs. “I had to do something to stop her from being bent over other men’s desks.”
I laugh, but mainly because his hand has slipped around my inner thigh with a squeeze. Because he knows I’m ticklish. “Stop that!” I protest, pushing at his hand.
“Don’t be mean. Let the birthday boy see his gift.”
His gift.
Whit still sends me a gift card every Christmas and birthday. And I mean every birthday. Not just mine or his. It was Elvis the dog’s twelfth birthday last week, and a gift card arrived in my inbox from Agent Provocateur. There was even a suggestion in the text that I might buy something themed. So I did. An underwear set that was little more than a crisscrossing of ribbons that came with a matching collar and lead.
It led to an interesting night and sore knees the following morning. Totally worth it.
“Oh, pretty.” His words are a sultry purr as I lift my dress to my waist. “But let’s get them off, shall we?” He hooks his fingers into the sides.
“Yes, let’s lose the knickers,” I intone, rolling the r dramatically. “God, I love saying that word.”
“It rolls off your tongue as easily as they roll down your legs.” And he does just that.
“It thought you wanted to look at them,” I say as he shoves the scrap of black lace into his pocket.
“Later, darling. I’ll take my time and make you work for it, but I just need a little taste for now.”
Oh God. The things this man says.
His head bows, his elegant hands spreading my thighs wider, his tiger gaze burning bright as he slides his tongue along my pussy with a velvety groan.
“Oh yes.” I fist my hand in his hair as he thrusts two fingers inside me, the invasion so slick as his tongue slips off the rise of my clit. “You’re so giving on your birthday,” I rasp, bucking up into him, “but Whit, please. I need you inside me.”
“Ask properly,” he demands, as his tongue and his fingers work me so well.
“Get up here, birthday boy.” I pull on his thick, dark hair. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
“There’s my filthy-mouthed girl.” The man just delights in making me curse.
His jacket slipped off, his zipper undone, he lines himself up, and we both watch as my body accepts his thick crown.
“That never gets old,” he grunts as his hips flex, filling me in one long drive.
I cry out and slide my hand to the back of his hair, bringing him closer. I can taste myself in his kisses as he begins to move. And move, my cries becoming louder and more desperate as he picks up the pace.
“I fucking love you, and I love fucking you,” he grunts as he fills me again and again.
“Leif?” Our heads whip collectively to the door at the sound of his mother’s voice. “Where’ve you gone? There’s a delivery here for you, and it needs your signature.”
“You locked the door, right?” he asks, his attention whipping my way.
“I think so. I’m not sure.” Did I? “I really don’t remember.”
His eyes close as though in pain, but it’s my walls throbbing around him. “Better make this quick,” he rasps, sliding his hands under my butt, changing the angle as he drags closer.
“Better get used to being interrupted,” I whisper, pressing my palm behind me and letting my head fall back.
“Leif? Mimi!” his mother’s voice trills.
“She’s not moving in with us,” he mutters as his whole body stills over me. He makes this noise, a masculine sort of ungh, as I laugh and react around his cock again.
“Not your mother.” I take his face in my hands as though love bleeds from my fingertips.
“The adoption agency—” Here’s a lilt of a question in his words before he halts. We’ve both learned the hard way not to get our hopes up. But it’s more than that, I want to tell him. This is fate’s hand. And while I still have fears inside me, I also have so much to give.
Love.
Love for Whit and for myself.
Love for a child somewhere in the world who needs it.
And love for another child unexpectedly created between my body and his.
My heart feels full as pleasure begins to pour through me, the rush of emotion and heat and love dragging Whit with me. I see stars burst, and I see universes created, each of them filled with love. I see our future. Our children, here in this house. I see us growing old together.
I see his mother… standing open-mouthed at the door?