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And then finally I reach her pussy. Her wet, eager slit. I slide my tongue down onto her most intimate place. Her clit is engorged with desire, and when I start to tease her with my tongue she comes alive, screaming her desire out into the night.
My cock jumps at the sound and I don’t think I can get more aroused, but then she writhes her delicious little body on the hood, arching her back and throwing her head back. She’s an irresistible temptress.
I press down on her with my tongue, and she cries out as I slip two fingers into her eager wet slit.
“I don’t want your fingers,” she gasps. “Give me that cock. I need it. Now.”
I stand, rock-hard and ready, but then she leans forward and takes my throbbing tip between her lips. I’m dying to bury myself balls deep inside her, but I’m not about to say anything to stop her. I grunt as she dips down, taking as much of me as she can, before coming up for air.
“Enough foreplay,” she says. “Fuck me.”
I grip the base of my cock and slide right into her. She’s so wet I glide in easily, her tight walls gripping me hard, pulling me in.
She shudders as I push fully inside—her eyes closed, her mouth open, tongue running across moist lips. The sight of her is almost enough to make me explode immediately, but I manage to get a hold of myself.
We fuck under the stars, and it’s the best, most passionate sex I’ve ever had. Our bodies dance to an ancient rhythm, melding together like we were always meant to do this.
The chill of the night air on my skin and the heat of her. It’s a delicious contrast. I lose myself in her, totally and utterly, until I feel her hands scrabbling at my chest, her breasts heaving.
“Don’t stop!” she cries. “Don’t stop, Luke!”
And as she cries my name, I feel the force of her climax, her slick pussy pulsing around my hard shaft. It pushes me over the edge, and I finish inside her with one final roar, spurting deep inside, again and again and again until I’m spent.
After, when we’re dressed again and sitting in the car, she looks sleepy. The night is almost over, and I’m just hoping I can get her to come back to my suite with me—not even for more sex; I just want to spend more time with her. I’ve never been so intoxicated with someone.
As I consider my next move, Tess suddenly sits up, looking alert. “I know what we should do now,” she says with an impish grin. That grin piques my curiosity.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s go to the Chapel of Flowers. It’s where Dennis Rodman and Carmen Electra got married. Will you take me there?”
I start the ignition. “Okay.”
“We should get married there.”
I laugh, but she looks completely serious. I shrug. Why not? I’ve listened to every single other crazy idea she’s had tonight, and I’ve had the best night of my life. I haven’t felt this alive in . . . God knows how long. Why stop now?
I put the car into gear, and start driving back towards the distant lights of the strip.
Brock elbows me again, and I turn to him, pissed off now. There are other ways to get my attention.
But before I can start on him, I see the look on his face. He’s pale, like he’s seen a ghost. I follow his gaze toward the entrance to the boardroom, and . . .
Holy shit.
Standing there, looking nervous but just as gorgeous as I remember, is my wife.
Tessa
My first day and I’m running late.
Well done, Tess. Way to show your new boss exactly how unreliable you will be—during the probation period, no less.
I went to sleep early last night, I swear. I wanted to knock it out of the park today.
But then I woke up with the worst morning sickness. There’s nothing quite like puking your guts out before the first day of a new job.
I’d spent ages choosing my outfit, doing my hair, and choosing some tasteful but understated jewelry. I’d made sure everything was just right.
And then I’d damn near vomited all over myself. Story of my life.
By the time I got up from my knees and flushed, my legs were wobbly and I only had minutes to spare. So I just quickly brushed my teeth and left, still feel distinctly green around the gills.
Maybe at some point my luck will turn, but it looks like the universe still has it out for me right now. Maybe I was a murderer in my past life or something, because I don’t think in this life I’ve been anywhere near enough of a bitch to deserve this crap.
I just about make the train, squeezing on just as the doors are closing. It’s busy, and too hot. I spend most of the journey with my head crammed in some guy’s smelly armpit, wondering if anyone will believe me if I tell them I’m pregnant so I can attempt to have them give up their seat for me. I’m not brave enough to try – maybe when I’m actually showing.
