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Bzzz... “What?!” that fucking buzzer is pissing me off.
“Sir your one o’clock is here.” Shit. I forgot about the meeting I set up months ago about this new venture I was thinking about investing in. I can't help but laugh, remembering when money was the only thing holding any interest for me. Now… however...I would give it all away. Toss it all into the street if it would bring her back to me. I can’t fucking do this. Standing up, I grab my wallet and keys.
“Lisa, have Peter take the meeting. Tell him the full profit is his. I have to go. I won’t be back for the rest of the week.” I say before logging out of everything. There is no way I can sit here, in this office, like my whole life is not falling apart before it is even together.
Instead of going home, I drive to the home I bought for our family and walk inside, noting that the decorator has followed my instructions and simply placed the basics inside. Appliances and shelving. Nothing else. Walls are bare. No color. No life. Much like me. Continuing to walk around, I take in everything, once again torturing myself as I picture all it could be, when she has given it meaning. Walking through the downstairs, I try to see what she will see when she finally looks at it.
It is seven bedrooms, with the master bedroom on the first floor. Ours has an ensuite bathroom, with a spa sized tub. Two vanity sinks, with separate cabinets and space. The shower is six showerheads and a bench, perfect for licking her sweet pussy while I bathe her on my knees. Mistake, dumb ass. I berate myself. My cock is jackknifing now, the vision too much...giving him a squeeze, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I haven’t come since the last time, refusing to waste anymore. I need it to put my seed inside of her when I get her back so she can never walk away from me again.
The rest of the house consists of two other stories. The second floor is where five of the remaining six are. I envision those to be the kid rooms. Each one has its own bathroom, and bay windows, much like the rest of the house. The top floor is where the guest rooms, office and library are. The library is where I have the settee overlooking the garden. I even went as far as to have some of her favorite authors already stocked on the shelf. I am man enough to admit that I have read some of them...you know. For research. Let’s just say...when I finally got to her fave...Jordan Silver, I think her name is... I almost choked on some of the shit she writes. Knowing my sweet greedy girl reads that, makes my boy hard as hell and more than a little excited to get her ass back under me. Some of her other favs include: M.K. Moore, KL Fast, Annelise Reynolds, Rexi Lake, C.M. Steele, Elisa Leigh, Chelle C. Craze, Carina Blake and a few others. To say my baby has a freaky side is an understatement. We are going to have fun exploring that. I just hope she’s ready.Chapter SevenDun“Dun, I can't take it anymore. Please...I need to come, oh god.” lifting my head, I smile, loving the way she says my name when she is in the throes of passion. I have brought her off five times using my tongue alone, making sure to keep all other parts of my body away from hers, loving the high of control and the tease.
“You can take as much as I give you baby. Who controls this pussy?” I ask her my hand landing on top of her pussy making sure to hit her clit, swollen and engorged from all of my attention.
“YOURS!” she screams as her back bows off the bed.
“Damn straight, baby. Now get up.”
“What?” she asks, her voice hoarse and incredulous. I have never left her hanging and don’t intend to now, but part of the fun is in the teasing.
“I said get up, love. I want you to lean against the dresser, bend over and put your right foot on the chair I placed to the side of it.'' I dreamt about this position all night, knowing it is going to offer the most depth, my cock, sliding deeper into her abyss, the ability to watch as I pull and push her on and off my greedy cock, her juice dripping down, hanging from my balls. Her face blushes as she moves to do what I say. For all of her feisty mouth and attitude, my baby is all bashful sweetness when it comes to the wicked. “Sweet mercy. Look at you, baby. As anyone ever told you your hips are made for squeezing, pulling, and widening to carry my sons. So fucking plush.” my hands grip them and every vein in my head protrudes. Just holding her, like this, bent over in front of me, her body ready for me to take what I want how I want, is too much. “Shit baby, I’m sorry.” is the last thing I say before I slam inside of her, my need so hard and urgent the dresser rocks as she screams into it.
