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I kiss her thoroughly on the mouth, claiming it, reminding her that no matter where she might go, she is still all mine. I feel her skin break out in goose bumps as a shiver runs through her, and she moans into my mouth as I push my tongue into hers roughly.
She pushes one hand into my hair, grabbing a handful of it and pressing her lips tighter against mine. Her other hand tugs on my tie, loosening it.
God, I fucking love this woman. I move one hand from her side and slip it inside her panties, searching out her clit. She sucks in a breath when I find it, pulling back from my kiss, her head falling back. Her exposed throat is unmarked, a playground of untouched snow awaiting my touch. I run my tongue down it, kissing across her collarbone.
My cell phone rings, and I pause. I’m torn. I want nothing more than to fuck Elle right here, to claim her pussy and show her how much I want her, need her. But the ringtone my cell phone is making is reserved for my CFO, and if he’s calling me at this time of the morning, then something is seriously fucking wrong.
Elle’s face drops, and she gets up from my lap, my fingers slipping out her pussy as she does.
“Just go,” she sighs.
“Elle …” I start.
She forces a smile.
“It’s okay. I get it, Falcon. Go.” She smiles again, wider this time. “Maybe we can pick up where we left off when you come home tonight. It would certainly make the day more interesting thinking of what’s to come.”
I stand up and readjust my tie, nodding my head.
“Sounds like a plan. Love you,” I say, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. I take the call as I hurry away. I glance back as I leave the kitchen. Elle is sitting in her chair, her hands wrapped around her coffee mug. She looks sad, not even glancing in my direction.
If you did less of this and more of her, then maybe she wouldn’t have to look outside of your marriage to be fulfilled.
I shake my head. I can’t let myself think like that. I have a job to do, and if even half of what my CFO is saying is right, then we have a huge problem.
CHAPTER THREE
ELLE
After Falcon left yesterday morning, I made a few calls and soon learned of an opening that sounded like something I could do. A secretarial position at a firm not far from home, Magnet Multi-Media Solutions. I don’t know the first thing about multimedia—is there even more than one type of media?—but I figured as a secretary I’d be meeting and greeting, taking calls, making refreshments, and doing a bit of typing. Those are things I could do, and when I looked on the careers page of the company’s website, it cemented the idea in my head. They have an extensive employee training program, and I would be able to learn more about the business and maybe progress to a more senior role.
I called the company and got put through to the owner, who introduced himself as Franklin Ludlow. We chatted for a bit, and he invited me to come in for an interview. My interview is this morning.
I spent the rest of the day excited; not about the interview, but about Falcon and what we would do when he got home that evening. I pictured him walking through the door, throwing his briefcase down with one hand and ripping his tie away with the other hand like the old days. I imagined him kissing me deeply, throwing me down on the living room floor because he couldn’t bear to wait another minute.
I imagined him licking my pussy, making me climax, and then fucking me hard and fast, making me his all over again. The thoughts kept me dripping wet, and I debated going to lie down and touch myself, but I decided to hold off. I wanted to spend the day teasing myself, waiting for Falcon.
I got a text message from him at ten thirty apologizing and saying I should eat when I was ready because he would be a good few hours. I don’t know what time he got in, but I was already asleep when he came home, having lost the battle with my eyes around 2 a.m.
To say the atmosphere over breakfast was tense this morning would be an understatement. I tried to let it go, to be a good wife, but I was starting to get sick of coming in second place to his damn job. We didn’t fight; we didn’t talk enough to fight, but the easy chatter, the laughter that usually existed between us, wasn’t there.
It felt like I was losing him, and the thought made my heart ache. I didn’t tell him about the interview. It would have only made the situation worse. Part of me thinks I should have called it off. I already feel like he’s slipping away from me, but I have to do this. I don’t want to lose Falcon, but I don’t want to lose myself either, and right now, I’m on a precipice, in danger of plunging over and losing myself for good.
