“More like Uncle Leif wants his birthday gift tocomeearly,” he says, ushering me down the back stairs.
“We can’t be away too long,” I protest, turning back from closing the cellar door to find myself pulled against a wall of hard Whit. I shiver under his attention as he presses his mouth against my jaw. “You can’t escape your own party.”
“Sorry, what was that you said about long?” My hand in his, he presses it between us, and I giggle. “Longandhard,” he asserts.
“Not quite,” I purr. “But it has potential.”
As though to reprimand me, his teeth press into my bottom lip, the sensation resonating places elsewhere. I open my mouth with a soft groan, and his tongue slips inside. He moves into this kiss as his body moves me against a wooden trestle table.
“Let’s see what’s going on under here,” he whispers huskily as he lifts me onto the top of it.
“Really, Whit. We’ve got a houseful of guests, and you want to look at my underwear?”
He pauses in the action of lifting my dress over my knees. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“It would be a first, right?”
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 meaneverybirthday. 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 theknickers,” I intone, rolling therdramatically. “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.
