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My dirty girl. She’s always as eager as I am, every time we reunite. It’s like neither of us can get enough, like we’re dying of thirst in the desert, and we’re each an oasis.
My cock hardens against the seam of my pants. I know I need to keep working, need to finish this and get out of here. But I can’t help the way my mind drifts. Toward thoughts of Mara last night, and the sheer nightgown she wore. The way she posed across my bed when I got out of the shower wearing only a towel.
I dropped the towel the second I saw her, and I was already getting hard. Harder still when she spread her legs and ran her hand up the inside of her creamy thigh, her fingers inching higher and higher up that sexy, soft skin of hers. She parted her legs and let me see she was naked under that nightgown. She ran her fingers along her slit, toying with herself, parting her lips, her tongue tracing the edges of her teeth as I watched.
God, she looked so fucking sexy. It’s a wonder I didn’t pin her down right there, but I was patient. I was enjoying the show, after all.
She lay back on the bed and started to finger herself, gasping softly with each stroke. That was when I couldn’t stand it anymore. I bent over her and took her hand, drawing it from her pussy and licking her finger clean slowly, my tongue hot against her skin, as I savored the salty sweet taste, her finger already coated in her juices.
I spread her legs then and pushed that nightgown up around her waist. Gripped the base of my cock tightly in one fist and guided myself to her entrance. With my other hand, I caught her wrists and pinned her arms over her head, telling her exactly where I wanted her, waiting for her to spread her legs wider for me, hooking her ankles around my waist, before I plunged into her.
God, that sexy little scream of hers undid me.
It’s enough to make me undo the top button of my jeans now, my hand stroking the edges of my cock through my boxers. Mara. Mara, Mara, Mara…
She’s all I think about. All day. It’s like I’ve been infected; like I’m addicted to that woman. And not only that, I’m lucky enough to call her my wife. I don’t know how I got so damn lucky, but I’m not about to waste it.
I slide my hand into my boxers, shutting my eyes to picture her face last night. That sexy little part between her top and bottom lips as she gasped. That soft mouth of hers, and the way her body arched up against me, her breasts digging into my hard chest when I drove into her again and again…
I start to stroke my shaft, my fist tight around the hard steel of it. I stroke my thumb over the top, feeling a bead of precum already gathered there, that’s how fucking horny this woman makes me.
I’m working myself up toward an edge when my door flings open without so much as a knock. My eyes jump to the doorframe, expecting to see Mara standing there, eager to call her over if it is, to have her join in.
But then I freeze.
It’s not Mara. It’s Bianca. Fuck.
There’s a desk in my way, blocking my cock from view—at least, so I hope—but still, it’s pretty obvious what I was just doing. I shove my pants closed again, and the zipper sounds deafeningly loud in this tight space, far too obvious. Still, I clear my throat and hope the flush doesn’t show on my cheeks.
“Bianca. Can I help you with something?”
“I’m so sorry,” she blurts. “I didn’t realize you were… um, that it would be a bad time.” Her face is bright red. Probably even redder than mine.
Still, she steps into the office, and shuts the door behind her slowly.
“What is it you need?” I ask, crossing one leg over the other to hide the inconvenient, still obvious bulge.
Her gaze drops toward the desk anyway, and to what I’m concealing behind it. “Nothing important. It was just a silly question about budgets, it can wait… until a better time…” She hesitates and glances up at me again, before she bites her lower lip slowly. “Unless, of course, this is a good time.”
I frown. “A good time for what?”
She hesitates again. Takes a deep breath. And then she steps toward my desk. Closer to me. “A good time for us to talk. About…” Her gaze darts down again. “Other things.”
“Bianca…”
But she’s already at my desk. Sliding onto it, in a way that all too obviously hikes up the hem of her skirt, revealing a clear slash of thigh. She’s not my type, never has been. But the move makes me wonder exactly how many higher-ups she’s used it on before now. “I wouldn’t blame you, if you were getting bored in here all by yourself. Or lonely.” She glances down again, pointedly, before her gaze locks back onto mine, her lips curved in a sly smile. “I can help distract you, boss.”
“No,” I say, more harshly than I meant for it to come out. I clear my throat with difficulty and rise from my chair. At least this conversation has been helping to kill my boner at a possibly record-breaking speed. “Bianca, whatever you think is happening here… it isn’t. Please leave.”
Her face flushes bright red, before it goes blanched and pale, emotions chasing themselves across her face. Surprise, then embarrassment… But she settles on anger by the end. Shoves off my desk with her fists balled. “Oh, so you prefer the butch muscular type, is that it?”
Not exactly words I’d use to describe Mara, but I can catch her drift. “I prefer my wife,” I respond coolly.
“She’s not good enough for you. Isn’t that obvious?” Bianca raises her chin, eyes narrowed.
It’s enough to spark fury in my own veins in response. “You need to leave. Now.”
She flashes me a furious glare as she storms toward the door. “You think you’ve had it tough, John Walloway?” Her voice comes out tight and angry. “You should learn what it really feels like to have your life ruined. Then we’d see how tough you really are. Or aren’t, without the whole world catering to your every whim…”
I don’t answer that. But when she slams the door behind her with one last glare, something sparks inside me.
Fear.
All I can think about is Mara. Mara, safe but oblivious at home, getting ready for our dinner date. You should learn what it really feels like to have your life ruined… What did she mean by that? What did she do?
I’m grabbing my desk phone before I even have time to think about it. I dial Mara’s number off by heart, one of the only phone numbers I bothered to memorize. It rings once, twice, and my breath hitches in my chest. No, don’t let anything have happened to her. I couldn’t face that possibility, couldn’t handle it if something had happened…
But then I hear her familiar voice on the other end of the line. “Hello?”
“Mara, it’s me. Are you on your way to dinner yet?”
I can hear honking in the background, the sound of traffic. “I’m in the car. Why, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” she points out, in the way that I normally love of hers, of seeing straight through my crap. In spite of my worry, I have to smile.
“No, it’s…” I shake my head. I’m being paranoid. Overprotective. I’m worrying about nothing, that’s all. “Something strange just happened, that’s all,” I say. “I’ll explain when we’re at dinner, all right?”
“Okay,” she says, still with that hesitation in her tone. “You sure you’re fine?”
“I’ll see you soon,” I say, mostly to avoid having to lie to her over that question again. “When you get to the restaurant, stay put, okay? I don’t want you off somewhere by yourself just now, that’s all.”
A long pause on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh. “Okay, but you’re explaining what the hell is going on the second you get here.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I promise.” I hang up and shut down my computer, reaching for my coat. There’s still more work I’d planned on finishing before I left tonight, but screw it. First priorities have to come first. And there’s a nagging sense of worry I can’t shake, a fear that there’s something wrong here that I’m not seeing right now. It’s a worr
y I know I won’t be able to shake until I’m with Mara, until I have her in my arms and I know she’s all right.
So, leaving work unfinished, something I’ve never done since the day I started Pitfire years ago, I shut off my office lights, lock the door carefully behind me, and head downstairs toward my car, to go and find my wife.
12
John
She’s standing outside the restaurant when I pull up. It’s a nicer place, a new one that just opened in town, which we’d both been eager to try. But right now, the restaurant and its well-reviewed fare is the last thing on my mind. I toss my keys to the valet without even looking, and beeline straight toward Mara, not stopping until I wrap my arms around her slender form and pull her against me.
