by Penny Wylder
I do.
He’s vibrating with rage at the end of it, but I’m not. “They’re not worth being angry at,” I say. “They’re not going to change.”
“Doesn’t stop me from thinking about some ways to get revenge.”
I laugh, resting my head on his chest. “You can tell me some of them later.”
“The best revenge of all will be thriving in this salon. Kicking ass and doing make-up, Diane.”
I wrinkle my nose. “As long as you don’t call me that.”
“Diane has already been crossed off the list.”
Dragging a finger down the center of his chest and lower, I tease him. “I always have liked the nickname Di though.”
“Di?” he asks, pulling me on top of him so I’m straddling his legs. “It’s nice to meet you Di,” he says as he thrusts up into me. “I’ll have all thirty done very soon at this rate.”
I laugh, leaning down to kiss him. “I’ll have to think of some more names.”
Epilogue
Glenn
Six Months Later
I can’t get the door of the honeymoon suite open fast enough, and Di is right behind me. The light on the door flashes red, and I have to try again, and a third time because I’m swiping the key too fast.
Finally, the door opens, and we crash through it. I’m tangled in folds of white skirt, and Diamond nearly falls over. “Now,” she says, “Get me out of this now.”
I laugh, pulling her close and kissing her neck. She moans, digging her fingers into my back. “Glenn, I swear to God. This was your idea and if you don’t put your cock in me right now I’m getting an annulment.”
“As you wish, Mrs. Kidman,” I say, turning her and peeling the zipper of her dress down her back.
We haven’t had sex in a month. Not only that, but neither of us have come. I wanted to do it, and I knew it would be good. But we’re both desperate at this point. I went to see her right before the wedding and tasted that sweet pussy, bringing her so close that I think she almost killed me.
I’m right there with her too. I think that she could probably breathe on me and I might go over the edge. But we can fuck as long as we like tonight. We don’t leave for the honeymoon until tomorrow evening, and right now I’m going to enjoy my wife’s fucking fantastic body.
My wife.
A year ago, if someone had suggested that I would be married, I would have laughed in their face. And I certainly did have to eat a bit of humble pie when I proposed. But Frankie and Wallace didn’t give me much grief.
And their wives have sucked Diamond into their friendship like she was meant to be there. She talks to them now almost as much as she talks to me.
Diamond lets the wedding dress fall to the floor, revealing the stunning corset she’s wearing beneath it. We don’t have time to wait right now. I rip off the thong she’s wearing below the corset and savor the moan that escapes her lips.
I release the buttons on my pants, and my cock springs free. Fuck it feels good. I’ve been hard for hours. Hell, I’ve been hard for a month, and I’m so, so close. I grab Di’s hips and bend her over the bed, one swift thrust and I’m in balls deep. She screams, already about to go over, and I’m on the edge too. Yanking her back onto my cock, it takes three thrusts for the orgasm to shatter through me, rendering me deaf and blind.
Diamond is writhing on my cock, lost in her own endless pleasure, and this is everything that I hoped it would be. Waves of the fucking ecstatsy wash over me, and I hold myself deep, until I’m finished, before pulling back.
I haven’t gone remotely soft.
Hell, this might give me back the stamina I had as a teenager. I strip off my tuxedo and flip Diamond over so she’s under me, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her breasts pushed up in that corset. I’ve fucked them many times now, just like I promised the night we met.
I might do it later tonight.
“Open,” I say, pushing her legs wide, and thrusting in again. Her pussy takes my cock deep, gripping it like a vise. Diamond is still coming back from her first orgasm, her muscles fluttering in spasms that wring out extra bits of pleasure both for her and for me.
Teasing her clit with her fingers, she arches and wraps her legs around my hips. “More.” Her voice is glazed and wanton, and I love seeing my wife like this. Drunk on the pleasure that I denied her for weeks. It was frustrating for us both, but the reward is so damn good. Her cunt is my favorite thing on this earth. I could live life tasting it and fucking it and nothing else.
I climb onto the bed with her, straddling her body and feeding my cock into her mouth. Di’s eyes flash open and lock on mine, sparkling with pleasure. She still loves sucking cock, and I want to see her swallow me. That deep red lipstick makes her lips more tempting than I ever imagined.
On our wedding night, my wife has her lips wrapped around my cock, lipstick smudging both my shaft and her face. It’s too soon when my balls tighten and I plunge deep into her mouth, pouring my cum down her throat while she hums, sucking on me as hard as she possibly can. I drain myself into her, stream after stream of cum flowing down while she swallows, milking me for all I’m worth. Shit, that’s amazing.
She licks her lips. “Yummy.” The smile on her face is breathtaking as I move between her legs again, and guide myself to her entrance. I’m still hard as fucking steel, and I’m going to be for hours.
I take her. This is what we both like, rough and deep fucking, that lands us both orgasms. There’s one spot that she likes the best, where I can slam into her and make her scream. I feel it when I hit it, her body suddenly writhing underneath me, that delicious squirming that tells me I’m about to make my wife come. I like the way that sounds.
I kiss her too, letting our tongues battle while I’m fucking hard and fast, already a third orgasm fast approaching.
Diamond breaks our kiss because she can’t hold in her cries anymore, growing more frantic and desperate as I fuck, until I reach between us, flicking her clit. I feel her go perfectly still before she keens, collapsing into shaking pleasure.
Lighting rockets through my spine and down through my cock as I come in bursts, dick twitching inside of her until I’m spent. Cum spilling back out of her pussy onto me. So fucking hot. God, I’m already wanting more.
Collapsing on the bed beside her, I try to control my breathing. “I love you, you know that?”
“I do know that,” she says, looking over at me and smiling. “I love you too.”
We’re not remotely finished. We have a month of fucking to make up for, but we spend a few minutes catching our breath. The wedding was lovely. We kept it small, just friends, really. Neither of us wanted our families there. It was refreshing for both of us, knowing that we could be without them. It made the day even more special than it already was.
Di leans over and rests her head on my chest, and I pull her close. I can’t imagine my life without her now. If I had done what I wanted that day, and stayed at First Shot because it was busy, we never would have met. None of this would have happened, and I wouldn’t be married to the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life.
“I’m so glad that I walked into that club,” I say.
I feel her smile against my skin. “Me too. I’m even grateful for that creeper. Funny how things work out.”
“I’d still pummel his ass into the ground.”
She laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. I pull her on top of me and capture her lips. Slow this time, sensual. Now that the frenzy has passed, we’re going to make love for a long time, and I’m going to make sure that by the end of the night she’s so steeped in pleasure that it’s a night she will absolutely never forget.
“I love you, Diamond,” I say. “And I’m so excited that I get to tell you that every day.”
There’s a sparkle in her eyes as she looks down at me. “I think I’d prefer if you illustrated it. Thoroughly.”
And so I do.
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“Pretend to be my wife. Just for the weekend.”
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I sigh and check the clock on the wall. Or at least, that’s what I pretend I’m doing. In reality, I’m checking through the large floor-to-ceiling office windows beside my desk, out of the corner of my eye. Luke is still in there, as usual. And as usual, he’s bent over his computer like a hunchback. That man is going to give himself back problems soon if I don’t step in.
That’s all I’m doing, I insist. Being a good assistant. Helping out. Making sure he doesn’t need me to book another chiropractor session in a week’s time.
This definitely isn’t an excuse to pop my head into his office for the dozenth time today. Nope. Not an excuse to stand near him and catch the scent of his cologne; the smoky, spicy scent that haunts my dreams. Not a thinly veiled reason to stand near him and hope he hands me some more paperwork, just for that split second when our fingertips brush and my whole body goes electric.
“Luke?” I tap on his doorframe.
He glances up and flashes me one of his trademark Luke Rossfield smiles. I swear, in a past life the guy must have been some kind of Nordic god or something. Tall, blond and angular, he’s got the kind of blue eyes that pierce right through you, and the cheekbones to finish the job. But when he smiles, it all softens, like he’s sharing a secret. A little hint of emotion meant just for you. “Celia.”
Not to mention the way my name melts on his tongue…
“Don’t make me call Dr. Morgen on you again.” I point at his spine.
Dutifully, he straightens, though the smile never leaves his lips. He arches his back and reaches up to rub the back of his neck with one hand. “Old habits die hard. At least that explains this crick in my neck.” His smile widens. “Thank you, Celia. What would I do without you?”
My heart skips a beat. I force myself to ignore it. “Probably slip a disc,” I respond. He laughs, and I take that as my cue to spin back to my chair. Just a few feet away, and yet, with the glass of his office between us, it feels like a million miles.
His phone starts to ring, and through the window, he catches my gaze just to roll his eyes dramatically. I check my own line, an extension of his, and immediately understand why. Tony from shipping and processing, again. It’s the dozenth time this week. Luke’s about to pick up the line when I hold up a palm to signal him, and mouth, Let me.
“Tony?” I pick up, my voice sweet as honey.
There’s a pause on the other end. “Celia. I was looking for Luke.”
“Of course. Unfortunately, he’s unavailable right this moment. Can I help you instead?”
Another, longer pause. Tony hates dealing with me. I suspect it’s because he doesn’t like answering to women, which is why I enjoy making him. Finally, he lets out an audible sigh over the line. “We’re going to be late with the Tuesday shipment—”
“Why is that, exactly?” I keep a smile on my face, because I swear you can hear that kind of thing over the phone.
Through the window of his office, Luke’s expression is torn somewhere between annoyance and relief that I’m handling this. Like I always do. There’s a reason I’m paid the big bucks.
I’m good at this. At handling every annoyance the world throws our way. Luke is the ideas guy, great at leading the company and developing new wild plans for where to take it. But I’m the one who excels at follow-through. I get things done.
Tony rambles through a million explanations, all of which I’ve heard before. They boil down to crappy excuses for why he hasn’t been doing his job.
“So there’s no way you’ll have the shipment processed in the next five days?” I clarify. “In that case, why don’t I just call Morgan and her crew.” The night shift in the warehouse and Tony’s mortal enemy. “We can afford to pay them overtime if it will make the difference here.”
Tony hesitates. Clears his throat. I know he’s weighing his options. Get the overtime pay himself and actually do his job? Or continue making bad excuses and give up the overtime pay—and the credit—to his arch-nemesis?
I smile at my reflection in my computer screen. I’ve got him.
“No, you know what, we can make it,” Tony says. “If it’s all right to add in a few overtime shifts for my guys…”
“Of course.” My smile widens. “Thank you so much for all your hard work, Tony.” I hang up and call through the open door. “You’re welcome.”
Luke winks. “You’re an angel, Celia.”
An angel. My heart skips a beat. I file that away, into the mental file filled with every compliment Luke has paid me in the past year. Ever since I got promoted out of the general secretarial pool and into my position as head assistant for Luke Rossfield, President and CEO. Billionaire genius inventor.
Hottest man I’ve ever met.
The office is small, practically start-up sized, which means, in about thirty minutes when everyone starts to file out for lunch, it’s not long before I’m left solo at my desk. Luke has a 12:30 lunch meeting that will run overtime, I’m sure. It always does when he meets with this particular investor. The rest of our staff tend to take long lunches on Thursdays, and they’ll be especially long today, on the first sunny Thursday of spring. This weekend is a long weekend too. Extra motivation for everybody to take a long lunch.
My hands move as if they have a will of their own. I open a website and follow my history trail through to one of the most frequently visited sites on my computer, as embarrassing as it is to admit. It’s a “reality fanfiction” forum, mostly filled with people’s fantasies about NFL players or rock stars or even particularly sexy bartenders they’ve run across in real life. Those are the rules. You can contribute any sexy story you want, but they have to be about a real person—fake name used to disguise them, of course.
It’s the first and only place I’ve ever confessed my feelings for Luke.
It started out so innocently. Just a couple of fantasies late at night when I had trouble falling asleep, early on after my promotion. I swear it’s because we’d spend such late hours together at the office; I wouldn’t be able to hear anything but his voice by the time I got home, or picture anything but his sexy exasperated smirk, as we discussed one issue or another.
Then it progressed to imagining what I wish would happen in those office after-hours meetings. I’d picture him shutting the office door behind me and instead of starting to complain about regulatory guidelines, he’d pin me against the door and kiss me, telling me he just can’t keep his hands off me for one second longer.
Eventually, I started to write out some of the fantasies. Just a couple of them. Just for myself.
Then I found this site, and posted one of them, only to suddenly gain an enormous following. Now I have readers begging for another installment.
I have other readers begging me to just make a move already.
If this Liam—that’s my pseudonym for Luke online, to protect his real identity—is anywhere near as hot as you say, girl, you need to get on that before somebody else does. That’s the most recent comment on the story I posted a few days ago.
I do another quick check around the office and scroll back up to the top, to reread what I wrote.
“Cecily.” Liam reaches up to tuck a single strand of hair behind my ear. But his hand lingers on my cheek, for just a beat too long, his gaze fixed on me. “How long has it been?” he asks, his voice a low murmur.
Behind us, I’m all too aware of the empty floor, our colleagues long since checked out for the night. The lights are out, everywhere but here in his office, where he has a single lamp burning beside his desk. It’s not much illumination. Just enough for me to make out the searing heat in his eyes. “A year,” I say.
“A year of working with you.” His hand slides
down my cheek to cup the back of my neck. He tugs me closer, and I can’t help it. I step toward him, my hands sliding up to rest against his chest. I savor the warmth of his body, the feel of his muscles underneath my fingertips. “A year of torture.”
My lips part in surprise. I start to step back, hurt, but his other hand slides around my waist and holds me close. Pins me against him, until my supple body melts into his muscular one.
“Because I haven’t been able to touch you, Cecily. I haven’t been able to tell you how I really feel…”
My head tips back, my eyes fixed on his. “Liam, we can’t. There are rules—”
“Fuck the rules.” He kisses me, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. His mouth is soft and sweet and tastes faintly of smoke, just like the cologne he wears. He spins me around, and my back bumps up against the desk. Then he’s lifting me onto the edge of it, the wood digging into my thighs, as his hands slide down my waist to the bottom of my skirt. It’s office appropriate attire, but the second he gets his hands on it, it no longer feels like it. He hikes the skirt up my thighs, and slides a warm hand between my legs, caressing the sensitive skin in a way that makes me shiver from the top of my head all the way to my toes.
“Cecily,” he whispers again, against my mouth. “I want you so fucking badly I can hardly stand it. Every single day we’re in this office together—”
“Celia?”
I jump so badly I nearly spill my coffee all over my desk. I slap the button to darken my desk monitor and leap to my feet all in one motion, heart in my throat. “Luke! I thought you left for your 12:30 already.” I plaster on a huge, fake smile, and pray he doesn’t read too much into my flushed cheeks. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding. It’s deafening to me. If he can’t, it’s a miracle.
“Sorry.” He’s grinning, amused. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” I lie. God, I’m a terrible liar.
