"You mean the passion, and the spontaneous combustion when we come together? Sure, there’s a thread of truth running through it. But that means nothing. You signed a deal. That’s all that exists between us. We’re an arrangement, and don’t forget that."
The light in her eyes fades, and I instantly feel like I’m lower than an earthworm in the food chain, fuck. Then she squares her shoulders, and says, "You haven’t told me about this sports management venture with Rick and Finn."
I search her eyes, but other than the slight dullness, she seems to have gotten a hold of her emotions. Apparently, I’m not the only one who can present a mask to the world.
"I’m buying an ice hockey team."
She blinks. "There’s no ice hockey in England."
"Sure there is. You Americans don’t know, is all. Britain’s men's national ice hockey team won gold at the Olympics and medals at the World Championships in the 1930s.” I turn back to my computer screen and pull up a new page. "Take a look."
She walks toward me to peer over my shoulder. "The London Ice Kings?"
"That’s the team I’m buying."
"And the national league is called the Elite Ice Hockey League?"
"Yep, it’s growing in size every year. There’s global interest in sponsoring teams.”
"And you plan to get in on the action early?"
"Very good." Of course, my wife is clever and bright, and if she’d had the opportunities I've had, she’d have thrived in the corporate world. It’s not too late. She can be your partner, in more ways than one. An asset. Someone in your corner, with your best interests at heart. The only other person I’ve trusted like this is Adam. Is my Little Dove someone who will not be revolted by what happened to me when I was taken captive?
"But how is Rick connected to this?"
I push away the laptop then pat the desk in front of me. "Come sit, I’ll tell you."
She frowns. "You’re not going to try any hanky-panky are you?"
I hold up my hands. "In the office, I’m your boss. You’re my assistant. I promise to keep our relationship strictly professional."
"Hmm."
When she doesn’t sit, I glance down at her feet. "Those may not be very high heels, but I bet you’ll be more comfortable if you take the weight off your feet."
She searches my features, and whatever she sees there, must reassure her because she slides onto the desk.
"Here, let me help you." I rise to my feet then boost her further onto the desk. Without taking my hands off her curvy hips, I murmur, "I’m trying to coerce Rick—who’s an ex-NHL player—to come out of retirement and be the captain. Finn, who’s also ex-NHL, has agreed to be the goalie. Your friend Giorgina will be perfect for the role of the PR manager."
“I do like Gio." She purses her lips. "Though she can be outspoken.”
"How so?"
“She’s the only one who suspects our relationship isn’t what it should be, and she hasn’t held back from mentioning it to me, either."
"Is that right?’
She nods. "It’s thanks to her, I realized I want to go on a honeymoon."
I slide my hands down until I’m gripping the outside of each of her thighs. When I tug, she parts her legs. I step between them, and she’s forced to widen her stance. I lean in, and the tent at my crotch pushes into her core.
"I hope you're taking notes of the highlights of our meeting, like a good assistant." I palm the back of her butt and smoothly slide her forward so her pussy is snug around my dick—through the barriers of what we're wearing, I know I’m big and aroused enough that she can feel every throb of the blood draining to my cock.
"I—" she gasps. "I—"
I pinch her nipple through her jacket and the camisole she’s wearing inside, and she moans. I cup her tit, and she pushes her chest forward so her breast is enveloped by my palm.
"Do you have any more questions?”
She shakes her head.
"Well, I have one, Little Dove. Is a honeymoon where I fuck you day and night enough, or would you rather we do it my way?"
"Wha—" She swallows. "What is your way?"
I urge her to tip up her chin so I can peer into her eyes. "One in which I stay buried inside you for the entire time."
54
Penny
Oh, my god, I detonate into a ball of fire. Just when I think he couldn’t turn me on further, he has to go and talk filthy to me in that rough voice that’s sure to send me over the edge.
"Well?" He glowers down. "What’s your preference? Not that I’m giving you one right now, but theoretically, if I were to, which would you choose?"
The force of his personality presses down on my chest. I peer into those green eyes, now flashing with a mix of possessiveness and need and lust and… I swallow. "Is that a trick question?"
"I take that as an assent to whatever I have in mind?"
"What do you have in mind?"
He ghosts his lips up to my temple, and I shiver. He licks the shell of my ear, and I all but climax right then.
"Sir," I gasp out. "Please."
"You beg so beautifully, my Little Dove, it makes me want to throw you down and fuck you until you can’t think straight."
"Do it." I turn my face so I can meet his lips, but he clicks his tongue.
"Not so soon, sweet girl."
"But I wanna," I whine.
His lips twitch. "So impatient to have my cock inside you, hmm?"
"Very impatient." I reach down to grip the tent in his crotch, but he grabs my wrist and twists it behind my back.
In this position, my breasts are thrust out. He bends and nuzzles my nipple and I moan. My pussy spasms, I try to close my thighs but can’t because he’s standing between them. Every part of my body seems to light up at his proximity. I strain against his hold, trying to shove myself closer to him. I want to push my breasts into that hard wall of his chest and feel his unyielding muscles dig into me. He steps back a little, and I look up into his face.
"I need you, please. If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to—" I gasp. He grabs the front of my jacket and tugs. The buttons scatter. Before I can react, he grips my camisole. He yanks on it, and it tears down the front. I cry out. He shoves my bra-straps down so my breasts are lifted up. Then, he reaches for my jeans. He unhooks the button and draws down the zipper. He reaches around me and makes a sweeping gesture. I turn in time to see papers go flying, while a pen and some pencils clatter to the floor. Then, before I can get a word out, he plants his palm on the front of my chest and pushes down.
The next second, I’m flat on my back, and he’s pulling down my jeans and my panties, throwing them aside. My head spins. Little sizzles of anticipation zip under my skin. I hear the hiss of his zipper being lowered, and goosebumps pop on my skin. He throws one of my legs over his shoulder, then the other. Our gazes meet.
There’s a helplessness in his eyes, something I recognize because I see it in myself, too. This inability to keep away from him. This need that's a living, breathing thing inside of me; which seems to fill every inch of me and push against my skin from the inside, threatening to tear out of me. This yearning to be joined with him, to be broken by him and consumed by him, to become one with him… It seems so much bigger than me, than him, than whatever it is either of us can control. His jaw clenches, and a nerve beats at his temple. He seems to be simultaneously angry and turned on, as evidenced by something big and blunt that nudges my slit. He slides his palm up to curl around my neck, and a shiver grips me. He stays poised on the verge of entering me as he searches my features. And this… This way in which he consumes me with his eyes is almost more erotic than the act of fucking me itself. His cock throbs at my entrance. I swallow.