by K. Webster
“Shh,” I murmur as I take her.
While I hold her mouth shut, I tangle my free hand in her hair and fuck her until we’re both grunting in unison. Soon, I feel her pussy milking my cock as she gives in to her orgasm. My dick can’t take the sensation, and I’m soon pouring into her unprotected.
Finally, I release her mouth and her hair and pop her on the ass again. She makes a yelp when I pull out, and then I grab some tissues before tossing the box over to her. Once we’re cleaned and fully dressed, I invade her with my presence.
“You better leave,” I taunt. “She’ll be here soon.”
A wicked laugh bursts from her, and she pecks me on the cheek. “See you soon, sexy,” she coos and sways her hips as she heads for her purse. She picks it up and is almost to the door when I stalk after her.
Grabbing her hand, I spin her back around to me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She giggles, and the blue in her eyes twinkles with mischief. “I’m leaving before she gets here.”
I steal her mouth with mine and kiss her until her ass hits the wall. “Cut the crap, Caroline. You’re not going anywhere, beautiful. In fact, I can think of a few more things to do with you before we head to lunch.”
Her lip pokes out and she pouts. “You spoil all the fun, B.”
I suck on her lip until I’m sure I’ve stolen all the color. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you were coming all over my dick.”
She laughs before regarding me with serious eyes. “How is your day so far? You looked stressed when I got here.”
I groan and run my fingers through my beard only to realize that it’s gone. “Actually, I spoke with the partners and—”
I’m cut off by a loud knocking. Breaking away from my wife, I unlock the door and fling it open.
Shit.
Fucking Ginny saunters in with her chest poking out. She may be a busty brunette with legs for miles, but she has absolutely nothing on the woman I just fucked over my desk.
Nothing.
“What?” I snap.
Her eyes widen and she gapes at me before quickly composing herself. “I heard what you told them.”
“I thought you were going to fire her,” Caroline blurts out.
I grumble. “I tried, but without proof, we have nothing against her except our word against hers.”
Caroline gasps, and I regard her with an apologetic stare. Her bottom lip quivers slightly before it pokes out in a pout. And not a cute “fuck me” pout. More like a “you broke my fucking heart” pout.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter.
Ginny scoffs, and my blood surges with rage.
“Ben, I thought you two were getting a divorce? The cold fish couldn’t handle the real man that you are. The man who deserves a woman like me—one who can keep him more than satisfied in the sack,” Ginny hisses, her voice dripping with venom.
Caroline makes a choking noise. When I reach for her, she jerks away from me. I expect to see tears in her eyes. Instead, I see hate.
“You stupid, home-wrecking bitch!” my wife roars.
She raises her open hand and slaps Ginny hard enough on the side of the head that the woman stumbles into the wall. Before Caroline can get another swat at her, I sling an arm around her waist and yank her away from the bimbo.
“You’re a psycho! I’m going to slap a lawsuit so fucking huge on this firm,” Ginny threatens.
“And tell them what? That you’re a bitch and a whore?” a voice booms from behind her.
James.
Ginny spins on her heel and snarls at him. “I’ll sue you all!”
James rolls his eyes and points out the door. “No, you won’t. You’re going to get out of this office, collect your things, and leave. I’m a witness and we have more than enough to fire your ass. Paula is already boxing up your shit, Ginny. We might not have had Ben’s texts for proof, but the ones you sent to Jake are pretty damning. Did you forget that he was gay and his dad is a partner? Bye now.”
Caroline relaxes in my arms when Ginny storms out of the office.
“Thank you, James,” I say genuinely.
He winks at me. “You can pay me back with Rogaine. Fucking asshole.”
I laugh at my best friend as he leaves and closes the door behind him.
“What was all that about?” I murmur as I inhale my wife, who now smells of some shampoo she used at Mom’s and now swears by.
She turns in my arms and snakes her arms around my neck. “I was fighting for you.”
I smirk at her. “You’re sexy as fuck when you fight for me, baby.”
Our lips meet and we kiss softly.
“You’re worth it, Bentley.”
I nuzzle her with my nose. “So are you, Care Bear.”
I’M STILL THINKING about the long lunch I had with Bentley when I enter the coffee shop near his office. Renée called this morning wanting to know the whole scoop about the accident. I gave her the Cliff Notes version of everything, including the part where Bentley and I had chosen to stay together. She insisted upon seeing me, so here I am.
“Over here, darling.” She gestures from the corner.
I wave back. “I’ll be right there. I’m going to order a coffee first and—”
“Nonsense, darling. I already ordered you your favorite.”
Scrunching my nose up in disgust, I see as I approach that she’s ordered me a hot green tea. “Thanks,” I mutter as I plop, very unladylike, into the chair across from her.
As I bring the tea to my lips, I try not to make a repulsed face when I get a whiff of it. I’m too spoiled by Louise’s perfectly brewed coffee that I don’t want to drink this stuff anymore.
“I’ve missed you, sweetie. How is life?”
I meet her icy stare, which seems to be peeling my layers away, and lift my chin at her. “Fine.”
Her perfect eyebrow arches. “I see. So what sort of fluff did Harrison fill your head with to get you to stay? I’m shocked that you decided to stay with him. You deserve much better.”
My mouth pops open in surprise, and it takes me a moment to recover. This woman has always intimidated me and bullied me—no, I let her.
Not anymore.
“Renée, my husband’s name is Bentley and he loves me with a ferocity I can’t explain. And I love him with all my heart. He and I deserve each other,” I snap.
She pins me with a glare. “I’ll say you deserve each other. Tell me, sugar. What happens when work becomes his number-one priority again? You know it’s coming. And the secretary from the office? Is he still sleeping with her? Maybe you should get yourself checked for STDs.”
My eyes widen, and I stare at her in disbelief. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, but this is none of your goddamned business. Maybe you should run along to husband number three and leave my marriage alone.”
She feigns disinterest and picks at her nail before her eyes meet mine. “You’re so naïve, Caroline. He’s probably fucking her right now. What happens when he knocks her up? Where does that leave you?”
I’m so furious that I stand in a huff. Her lips form a satisfied line, as she thinks she’s won. I’ll wipe that smug look right off her face.
“Oops,” I say as I pick up my warm cup of tea and sling it at her. “I’m so clumsy. Goodbye, Renée.”
She gasps and rambles on about me being an unstable nut. I only solidify that when I cackle like a madwoman.
“Stay out of my fucking life,” I snarl and then haul ass out the door.
I’m still on a high as I climb into the cab I hailed. After pulling my new phone from my purse, I text my husband.
Me: I just told Renée off. You were right. She’s a bitch.
I giggle as I wait for his reply. It comes immediately.
Bentley: I’m always right. Still traipsing around Vancouver with no underwear on?
My lips spread into a grin. Maybe things are going to be just fine. I feel alive and invigorated. I feel like my husband and I are on the same team.
Life is perfect.
Me: I think I may have flashed the cab driver on accident . . .
Bentley: Bad girl. I’m buying another fucking car so you can have yours back. No more free shows for cabbies.
I laugh and catch the cab driver eyeing me in the mirror as if I have lost my mind.
Me: Buy a Land Rover with heated seats.
It takes a few minutes for him to respond, and I am guessing he’s busy, but I don’t have to wait too long.
Bentley: I prefer crashing Audis with you.
God, I love this man.
We text back and forth my entire drive back home. Once I’ve paid the cab driver and am walking to the door, he calls.
“Miss me already?” I tease.
His voice is deep and breathy. “You’re all I think about, Care.”
I sigh and let his words sink in. “What do you want for dinner? Still coming home at six?” I ask.
He answer James and then his attention is back on me. “I’ll do my best, baby. I’m sort of buried and trying to find the surface of my desk, but I promise I’ll be home before ten.” His voice is strained, but he’s attempting to tease me. I can tell he’s already feeling the stress of work.
“I’ll hold you to it. Now, get back to work so you can hurry and get home to me,” I joke back.
After telling each other that we love the other, we hang up. Once inside, I change into some sweats and hunt for my new camera. I’m determined to start learning about it, so I sit down at the computer to begin my quest for knowledge.
My back is stiff from being in this chair. When I glance at the clock, I’m shocked to discover I lost myself in the world of apertures and F-stops.
Seven thirty-eight.
I frown and pick my phone up to see if I have any missed calls or texts.
Nothing.
Swallowing down any doubts, I tap out a text to my husband.
Me: Missing you.
I’m thankful when he doesn’t make me wait for an answer.
Bentley: I’m sorry, Care Bear. If I can get to a stopping point, I’ll be out of here. Why don’t you eat without me?
I shake off his question and stand to stretch my stiff body.
Me: Will you text me on your way home?
Bentley: Of course. I love you.
Me: I love you too.
My sigh is loud and disappointed, but I promised I would fight for us, not against us. We’re on the same team. Team Harrison.
As I exit the office and walk back toward our room, the first thing I see is the frame I gave him last week. My smile is immediate as I admire it. Bentley wanted it in our bedroom so it would be the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing he saw before he went to sleep. He didn’t want us to ever forget.
I’ll never forget.
The pictures are hauntingly beautiful. I originally complained about the way I looked at the time. But now, all I see is both of us stripped bare. Our souls are shining in those pictures. It’s absolutely breathtaking.
That night, he admitted that it was the best gift I had ever gotten him. Now, it reminds me of the worst gift I ever got him. I smile as I’m swept into the memory.
“Wow,” he says slowly as he pulls the gift from the bag. His eyes flicker to mine, and I can see him wondering if it’s a joke or for real.
“I thought you’d love it since you like to hunt and all,” I tell him sweetly.
He lifts the orange camo tie and hangs it around his neck. “Thank you.”
I bite back a grin. “Maybe you could wear it to Steve and Paula’s wedding?” I innocently bat my eyelashes at him.
His eyes widen in horror, but he quickly schools the look. “Maybe.”
“I got a matching dress,” I tease.
Realization of the fact that I’m messing with him finally hits and he tosses the tie at me. “I was about to fucking say, ‘You’re crazy, woman’,” he laughs.
I snatch the tie up and saunter over to him. With one swipe of my hand, the gift bag and tissue fly to the floor. He growls when I straddle him but doesn’t protest when I tie the hideous thing around his eyes.
“What are you doing, baby?”
I crawl off him and into the floor. When my hand palms him through his slacks, he gasps.
“Happy birthday, B. Now, it’s time for your real present,” I purr as I pull his very aroused cock from his pants. “My mouth.”
He very much enjoyed my gift, but he didn’t get another one until his next birthday. It sickens me that I became that person and withheld something he so thoroughly enjoyed. I’m not sure why I did it. Maybe it was to get back at him for abandoning me for his job. Maybe I simply wasn’t being a good wife.
Regardless, I never plan on playing mental head games with him again. The benefit of giving him exactly what he desires completely outweighs any perceived negative. When I take him in my mouth, he yields to me, and for those few moments, he worships my very being. It’s nice knowing that I can give him a gift that doesn’t cost a dime but I know it’ll be his favorite every time.
It’s well past eight now. But instead of fretting and worrying, I set forth in planning a little surprise for my hardworking husband.
My first plan of action is something a little sexier than sweats and a T-shirt. After trying on every piece of lingerie in my possession, I finally decide on a black corset-type piece with a matching thong. It’s strapless but does amazing things for my boobs, making them appear larger and fuller. My man has always had a thing for heels, so I find a pair of fishnet thigh-highs I’ve never even worn and tug them up my legs to complete the look I know he will love. Once I’ve clipped them into place, attaching them to my corset, I practice a sexy walk into the closet as I hunt for the heels.
Carelessly shoved in the back of the closet are the pair of bright-red, four-inch stilettos I’m looking for. They’ve been worn once and long forgotten. The memory, however, is as fresh as the day it happened.
“What are these?” I ask in a shrill tone as I hold up the hooker shoes that are most definitely not mine.
Bentley’s cheeks blaze, and I burst into tears.
“Baby, it’s not what you think,” he explains.
I heave one of the shoes at his head, but it stabs the sheetrock behind him. Shame. Maybe the next one will gouge his eyeball out.
“Not what I think?” I hiss. “Who is she?”
Before I can throw the other one, he stalks over to me and wrestles it out of my hand. “I said, it’s not what you think,” he growls.
I sob against his chest as he holds me. “Then what is it?”
He sighs, and I brace myself.
“Remember that porno we bought online? Princess Pussy?”
I pull away and glare at him. “What?”
He groans. “The one with the annoying chick that said, ‘Aw yeah,’ every five seconds and made the duck face with her collagen-filled lips.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes. “I hated her.”
“But you loved her shoes. We ended up critiquing the rest of the film and you wouldn’t shut it about the damn shoes.”
The light bulb goes on in my head.
“Ohhhh,” I gasp.
He chuckles. “Yeah, oh. It was supposed to be a surprise, but you kind of ruined that.”
Squealing, I run over and pluck the shoe from the wall. “You got me Princess Pussy shoes! You’re the best husband ever!”
One corner of his mouth quirks up in smug grin. “Get naked, woman. I’m about to fuck Princess Pussy in nothing but those goddamned heels that nearly got me killed.”
My phone pings and draws me from my memory from a few years ago.
Bentley: I’m on my way.
Showtime.
I’M A FUCKING horrible husband.
Our first day back in the swing of real life and I’m already back to my old ways. I’ve missed dinner and kept her waiting until almost ten fucking o’clock.
Two weeks.
That’s all I need to ge
t us through and then it will all be better.
“Honey, I’m home,” I call out after I shut and lock the front door.
I get a whiff of garlic and wonder what she ate for dinner. Alone. Without me because I was too busy fucking working.
“Baby?”
I sigh in frustration with myself. She probably passed out while waiting for my ass. I toss my briefcase onto the couch as I make my way through our dark loft toward our bedroom. All I want right now is to get naked and cuddle with my Care Bear. I’ll apologize with my tongue—all over her body.
The bedroom is dark aside from the light pouring from the bathroom. But she’s not on the bed, and when I peek my head around the corner, my eyes bug out of my head.
My wife.
Holy shit.
My gorgeous wife is perched on the countertop in the sexiest fucking getup. And the shoes. The Princess Pussy fuck-me shoes.
And she’s eating a gooey slice of cheese pizza.
I think I’ve died and gone to man heaven.
“My God, woman,” I growl as I stalk toward her, tossing my jacket to the floor along the way.
Before I get to her, she halts me with her free hand. “Not so fast, mister.” She points to the bath that’s still steaming from having recently been filled. A plate with a couple of pizza slices sits on the edge beside a beer.
I turn and gape at her. “I don’t deserve this.”
She pops a greasy finger into her mouth and sucks on it. I want to suck on that finger too.
“You deserve this and more,” she says simply before sliding off the counter.
My eyes travel down her legs, which seem incredibly longer in those shoes, before I meet her gaze. “I really don’t.”
She saunters over to me and begins working the knot in my tie. Then I grab her hips and haul her against me.
“Why are you doing all of this?” I question as I caress her through the silky material.
Her blazing, blue eyes lift to mine, and she gives me the most breathtaking smile. “B, you’re a hardworking man. Yes, I hate that you do it so much. Yes, I am jealous of the time it takes away from us. However, I’m also incredibly proud. You’re smart and successful. You provide so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. Every now and again, you need to know how much I appreciate you.”
