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What the fuck is she doing to me? And then I can’t think anymore as I feel her inner muscles clamp down on my cock. Her fingers curl around the hand I’ve splayed over her nape, her nails digging into my wrist, while her other hand reaches behind her, blindly seeking for any part of me.
“Ryan,” she pleads.
I freeze. She’s done this before. And this time I understand what she’s asking for. Something I never ever give.
But this is Stella. My wife.
As I resume thrusting, I pull her up from the desk while I curve my torso around hers. Without even thinking about it, drop my face into the crook of her neck, and suck on the fragrant skin there while my other hand goes between her legs to stroke her clit.
She cries out as her orgasm hits her in a series of full-body jerks, so strong it immediately triggers mine out of nowhere. With a roar, I collapse back onto the desk, and I barely manage to brace myself on my forearm so as not crush her delicate frame, then withdraw my already spurting cock out of her before descending into a vortex of pleasure, rutting into her ass and smearing the rest of my cum all over her.
“Christ woman. You’re so fucking sexy when you come,” I manage amid gasping breaths.
She’s still trembling and breathing hard. “And those sounds you were making Ry...”
“Believe me, I would have gagged myself if I could.”
“No Ry you were magnifice–” she snaps her mouth shut.
I start to chuckle. “Am I going crazy, or were you about to call me magnificent?”
She flushes scarlet. “Um… It’s my postcoital brain trust me.”
“In that case, I’d love to keep you permanently in this state.”
“I’m sure you would.”
I swing her up into my arms and return to my desk, arranging her on my lap, her back to my front. I lightly run my fingers over her ass. “How sore are you?”
“It’s just hot and it stings. Keep doing that,” she shifts to give me better access. I oblige her and within a minute of stroking her ass cheek, I swear she starts purring like a cat. At least her breathing changes. She fucking loves being touched.
Then it dawns on me that this is her first time here. My library is a replica of my Manhattan one except for the tall shelves of books here.
“Gosh Ryan, do you actually read this much or is it just decor?” She stares at my book collection.
“They’re mainly books on business, engineering, and poetry. I’ve read most of them, it’s the fiction part I’m working on reading, I’m told it expands the imagination.”
“Do you need that to build ships?”
“Yeah, I do, for design and innovation.”
“And you have so many awards, too” Her slightly awed look makes me smile.
“They’ve piled up mostly because I don’t throw them away.” She looks about to dig in more so I steer her to the reason we’re here in the first place. “Now let’s come back to the question of why you were bent on marrying me.”
“It’s because of Vivian.” She murmurs. “You know when I said I was keeping her dream alive?”
I nod “What did you mean by that?”
“She has a—” She breaks off abruptly, and then sits up straighter on my lap “Hey, what the fuck is that?
“What is it?”
She goes eerily still, face as white as she stares at the wall of plaques and awards. She points and I follow, half expecting to see a ghost but it’s only a shelf. On it sits a lone trophy from the Greenhouse fraternity.
Chapter Twenty
Ryan
