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Kline chuckled, took the now half-empty wine glass out of my hand, and set both his and mine on our nightstand.
His forehead, his nose, his cheeks, pretty much any part of his face I could get my lips on, they were all the subject of a very long and pointed attack.
Eventually, though, my lips found his again, and the kissing went from cute and adorable to deep and passionate and heated.
Hell’s bells, I would never grow tired of kissing this man.
My legs were wrapped around his waist, and I pressed myself against him, grinding myself against the firm bulge beneath the zipper of his jeans.
Ohyes.
“Fuck, baby, you always make me so hard.” Kline groaned.
I knew exactly what he meant. If women had dicks, I’d have been tenting the fabric at my crotch for a good long time now.
He laid me back on our bed and kissed a path of openmouthed kisses down my neck and chest, only stopping to move my blouse out of the way with his teeth.
Instantly, my eyes fell closed and a moan escaped my mouth.
“Shall we start our Valentine’s celebration a little early?” he asked, blue eyes blazing as they looked up into mine.
“Yes, please,” I begged desperately. Not one for sexual theatrics, my husband didn’t waste any time removing my clothes.
And then his clothes.
Until finally, he was sliding inside me.
“God, Kline, that feels so good,” I said, my voice more of a whimper than I’d ever heard it. “It always feelssogood.”
“Just think, baby. Tomorrow begins the start ofeven moreof this,” he said, pushing himself deeper on a heady groan. “Four days of me, you, and my cock inside your perfect pussy.”
Oh, holy hell.I had a feeling I was going to have a much greater weekend than Thatch could ever have imagined earlier.
New York, Thursday morning, May 25th
Another day, another dollar, another boring-ass conference.
Sure, the men and women on the call included some of my most important investors and some of the biggest brains on Wall Street, but fuck, they all had a true talent for droning on and on andon.
It was a true wonder of the world how I, Thatcher Kelly, adrenaline junkie, adventure-seeker, award-winning prankster, and all-around larger-than-life, attractive-as-fuck, charming-as-hell man, ended up in the world of finance and investments with a bunch of pencil-sharpening number-crunchers, but it was my reality. On the plus side, they were less likely to fuck your sister—assuming you had one—or jiggle your girl’s tits behind your back. I could appreciate the loyalty, and I’d noticed a sleeper-cell, nice-guy version of Mr. Steal Your Girl in one or two of them.
Maybe the next time Kline fucked me over by taking his wife on a second goddamn honeymoon, I’d enlist one of them as my backup wingman.
Eh, fuck.No way they’d be as good as Big-dick.
Oh well. At least they had helped make me rich.
The conversation veered toward upcoming quarterly earnings for corporations I’d already done my homework on, so when an email notification popped up in the right-hand corner of my laptop screen, in the name of softening the boredom blow, I clicked it open.
Fuck yes!It was the response I’d been waiting for with bated breath. Truly, the whole foundation of my best bro’s marriage was on the line, and it was up to me to save it. I would go full-on Elizabeth Bennet on Kline “Mr. Bingley” Brooks if he didn’t step up to the plate for my homegirl Georgia “Jane Bennet” Brooks if I needed to. Trust me, there was no length I wasn’t willing to go to. I’d have to get it specially made—given my fantastically giantlike size—but I’d be a fucking stunner in a hoop dress.
To: Thatcher Kelly
From: Antonio Diamond
Re: Brooks Reservation
Thatch,
