She made no move to obey. He struck the inside of her thigh.
“What did I say?” he asked, more sternly.
“Sorry, Sir.” She gave him a smirk that earned her another solid swat. “Yes Sir. Ow.” She giggled and reached behind her back when he smacked her again harder.
She popped the hook on her bra and slid the straps down her arms and he ignored the self-satisfied look on her face as the sight of her tits distracted him. Twelve years total together and they never failed to distract him. They were amazing and she knew it.
For good measure, he flicked each of her tightly peaked nipples with the crop, back and forth a couple of times each. She clutched the sheet beneath her in her fists and groaned out a lusty “Yes” that made his balls pull tight.
Owen stepped off the foot of the bed, tossed the crop aside and ordered her to take off her underpants. Her hips came up as she wriggled them over her ass, then her legs went straight up in the air, giving him a tantalizing peek at her pussy. She maneuvered her panties over the heels, dropped them from a fingertip over the side of the bed and spread her legs wide.
Between her pussy spread open waiting for him and the three red marks on the inside of her thigh, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold out. The blinding need to bury himself to the hilt inside her and fuck was coming up fast and about to overtake his control.
There wasn’t much time left, he knew, which meant there wasn’t really any reason not to let need win this race.
He gripped her legs behind the knees and pulled, flipped her onto her stomach fast enough she let out a little “eep” of surprise and put her knees on the floor so she was bent over the foot of the bed.
“Hands above your head,” he ordered quietly, standing directly behind her, gathering her hair and brushing it to one side so he could see her face.
She did as he told her, her breath coming quick and fast as she turned her head, eyes closed, and lay on the bed to wait.
The bright red handprint marking the pure white skin of her ass about sent him straight out of his head. He stood with his legs on either side of hers, knees braced on the edge of the mattress for support, and bent over her. She wriggled and sighed as he nipped gently at her earlobe, neck and shoulder, while the hand not holding his weight stroked that warm handprint on her ass.
“Let’s see how ready you are,” he whispered, sliding his fingers between her legs.
She moaned as he stroked her soaking-wet slit. “I’m ready, Sir.”
“I can tell.” He found the swollen nub of her clit and circled her slowly.
Her mouth, still stained bright red even though she was no longer wearing lipstick, opened and her breath came in shorter, panting gasps.
“How close are you, baby?” he asked, deepening the pressure slightly.
Her whole body shuddered with the change and she whispered, “So close.” in a shaky breath. He slipped his hand under her head for support as he lifted and took a long, deep pull from her mouth.
She broke the kiss first. “Please, Owen. Fuck me now. I need it.”
“Yes, Gracie.” He kissed her lightly, electricity singing along his spine, pooling at the base and humming through his balls. “Legs together,” he told her, his knees on either side of her legs as he knelt behind her.
“Oh god yes,” she moaned as he slipped the head of his cock inside her.
She was so tight with her legs together and the muscles of her pussy contracting around him. He gripped her hips and pushed inside her in short pulsing strokes, heat rolling through his entire body from where they were finally connected and sweat prickling over his skin. His teeth ground together at the strangled sound she made when he dug his fingers into her hipbones and buried himself to the root.
He fucked blindly, wild and out of control, their bodies slapping together as she pushed back against him just as hard as he was shoving into her. She bit the sheet and a long, lusty moan rolled out of her as she came, throbbing around him. He kept pounding against her until his vision went dark and his own orgasm ripped from his body, his hips snapping until his whole body seized with it.
And then he was lying over her back, desperately trying to catch his breath. He knew full well he was making it hard for her to catch her own with his weight on her, but he couldn’t to move. When he regained control of himself, he lifted his head and raised his body slightly.
Still mostly hard and buried inside her, he kissed her shoulder and looked down at her. “I know that wasn’t quite what you were hoping for,” he teased, pressing his lips to her shoulder.
Her lips twitched and she shrugged. “It’ll do, I suppose,” she said, opening her eyes and sliding him a look.
He sank his teeth into her and gave her a gentle swat on the thigh.
Her body shook them both when she giggled and said, “Thank you, Sir, may I have another?”
Chapter Three
Grace watched her husband dress. He never stopped amazing her. Two hours of play reduced to a quick fuck in under ten minutes and he’d still managed to leave her feeling loose-jointed and more than a little buzzed.
It was hard to stay angry with him when she knew he’d have been there on time if something hadn’t come up at work. Unfortunately something was always coming up at work, especially since he’d been transferred to this new company. If Ziegelski had gotten word that Sanders was going to sit in on the meeting in Owen’s place he would definitely have done something to sabotage Owen leaving early. She wished the old geezer would retire and put everyone out of their misery already.
She sighed, enjoying the view as he pulled on the jeans she’d brought for him to change into, his strong back and fine, fine ass toward her. He was unbelievably beautiful naked—not especially broad-shouldered but deep-chested with long, strong arms and legs and a very tight stomach. That body, hidden from the rest of the world in business suits or jeans and t-shirts, was her very private, very erotic secret. A secret that gave her an incredible amount of joy to have all to herself.
He was a walking contradiction on so many levels, with his plain, brown business haircut, clear blue eyes and kind, unassuming face. He came across as an average, everyday kind of guy at a glance, and for the most part he was. In most of his daily life—with the boys, their families and friends—he was relaxed and easygoing. In the boardroom and the bedroom, he was a powerful force to be reckoned with.
She was almost ashamed to admit she’d overlooked him several times when they first worked together. She’d been hired as a receptionist directly out of the vocational high school she’d attended, and hadn’t been there more than a year when he was hired as an intern his senior year of college.
She’d seen him. It was her job to know who was coming in the door and for what reason. She’d thought he was cute in an all-American kind of way, but hadn’t really given him a second thought until a coworker pointed out that he looked at her differently than he looked at any of the other office girls.
So she’d started to flirt with him for fun. He’d been adorably shy at first. Morning hellos eventually led to him introducing himself, which in turn led to him occasionally stopping by her desk to make small talk.
Then, at the company Christmas party that year, she’d found herself alone with him in a quiet corner. With a couple of glasses of wine in him, he’d been charming and easy to talk to. And when she’d looked into his eyes, really looked into their depths for the first time, she’d nearly been knocked off her feet by what she’d seen.
Beneath his sweet-faced exterior was pure, unadulterated, untapped power.
He’d taken her out for a drink when the party ended. They’d closed the bar and gone for breakfast at an all-night greasy spoon near her apartment after that. She’d taken him home with her that morning and let him tie her up with the belt on her bathrobe by the light of the rising sun shining through her bedroom window.
Oh, how far they’d come since that first night.
“We’re going to
be late getting the boys from the Y if you don’t get dressed,” he observed, shaking the creases out of the clean t-shirt she’d brought for him.
“I’d give my right arm to have someone we could call to pick them up for us right now,” she said, standing to run her hands over his still-bare chest.
He groaned a little and bent to kiss her. “We’d miss soccer practice.”
“Aren’t we allowed to miss just once?” she asked, sliding her arms around his neck. She leaned her still mostly undressed body into his and went up on her toes for a kiss.
Her head went fuzzy as his tongue slid into her mouth, seeking hers. He wrapped his arms tight around her and pulled her in so close she could hardly breathe.
“And this conversation just came full circle,” he said when he broke the kiss, touching his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry we can’t just call your parents anymore.”
Her parents had moved to a green retirement community in Arizona shortly before Owen was transferred a little more than a year earlier. They actually lived closer to his parents now, but they’d had him rather late in life and weren’t able to keep up with their wild grandsons for more than an hour or so, and never at the drop of a hat.
He brushed her hair back, exposing her shoulder to another kiss. She dug her fingers into his hair and pressed her cheek to the side of his head.
“We promised each other we wouldn’t get lost in parenthood,” she said.
He sighed against her skin. “Yes, we did.” He kissed her neck, her lips. “And until recently, we hadn’t.”
An unexpected surge of annoyance rippled through her.
“So what are we going to do about it?” she asked.
He straightened and gave her a cool look.
“What do you want me to do about it?” he asked, his tone weary.
“I didn’t say you.” She dropped her arms and took a step backward. “I said we. Owen, we have lost ourselves since we moved here.”
“Gracie, we knew things weren’t going to fall back into place instantly.” He moved around her and picked up his shirt from where he’d dropped it on the foot of the bed. “We don’t know anyone but my parents and the Millers yet. The house is taking up all of our time and energy, and you know it.”
Knowing it didn’t help. She loved the old farmhouse they’d bought just beyond the suburbs of the city they now worked in. It was out of the way, safe and private but within driving distance of everything. It was huge and rambling and she could see the boys bringing their own families home for the holidays there. That didn’t mean it needed to be sucking up every single second of their free time.
She snatched the trailing ends of her patience and reined in her temper.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what did you mean?” He spun, just his head through the shirt, and threw her a look that chilled her. “Am I supposed to wake you up out of a dead sleep after you’ve worked, taken care of the boys and then spent hours working on the house so we can play at the old slap and tickle?” He jammed his arms into the sleeves. “I’m just as tired as you are at the end of the day.”
Her foot snagged on the discarded black silk scarf as she turned to finish dressing. She picked it up and stuffed it into the gym bag now holding their work clothes, snatched her own jeans off the bed, sat heavily and shoved her legs into them. He was an amazing husband and hands-on father. He’d never brought it up when they argued before, and there was no need for it now.
“That’s not what I’m talking about either.”
He jammed his fists on his hips. “Then what is it? If you need me to feel worse than I already do for getting here late, I’m not sure I can manage that.”
The argument was getting out of control fast and she didn’t know how to stop it. She pulled her shirt on and tried to get her thoughts to stop spinning. He already had one running shoe on and was tying the other by the time she looked back at him.
“Owen,” she said when he stood and grabbed his keys and the bags with their clothes and still-unused toys.
He stopped to give her an impatient look.
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”
He took a deep breath and looked down at his feet.
She went to him and tentatively put her hands on his waist. “I wasn’t trying to pick a fight. It’s been so long, and I had my hopes up that we were going to get to play a little this afternoon.” When he merely looked at her, she added, “You know damn well what just happened was amazing.”
His eyes closed briefly. She could feel a little of the tension leave him when he kissed her, but it didn’t all go away. “I’ll get the boys if you want to swing through someplace for food. We can eat in the parking lot at the practice field.”
And then he left.
By all outward appearances, he was his usual easy self by the time she caught up with him and the boys at the soccer park. They sat on a blanket in the grass eating chicken sandwiches while Liam devoured a burger and Ian inhaled chicken nuggets and fries. They didn’t speak to each other as much as they listened to the boys talk about what happened at school that day.
It wasn’t long before the parking lot was full of other families, all chatting with each other as they wrestled their children into soccer cleats and shin guards. Owen didn’t look her way as he took Ian to the practice field across the park, laughing with Ian’s friend Adam’s father as the boys ran ahead of them. She spent the next hour and a half catching up with other parents and cheering Liam through practice, but the unsettled feeling she’d left the motel with wouldn’t leave her alone.
After the boys went to bed that night, Owen opened a bottle of her favorite wine.
“These don’t seem like much compared to what you tried to make happen at the motel this afternoon,” he said, handing her a small box as he sat on the floor next to her in front of the fireplace, lit with a dozen tall candles in lieu of a fire.
Guilt over how the afternoon had ended zipped through her as she pulled the bow free. Lying on a bed of red satin were a pair of long, delicate silver earrings she’d fallen in love with months ago. She’d never been able to justify buying them for herself, and she could hardly believe he remembered looking at them with her so long ago.
“I’m really sorry about today,” she whispered, feeling a little overwhelmed.
He shook his head and lifted one of the earrings out of the box. “It’s life, Grace.” He brushed her hair over her shoulder, removed the earring she was wearing and replaced it with the new one. “We both know better than to expect things to work out the way we want them to. Spontaneity went out the window years ago.”
“I booked that motel room and dug the duffle out of hiding months ago.”
“And the boss messed it up for us.” He shrugged and leaned across her body as he changed her other earring.
She loved his smell, a clean mixture of soap, aftershave still left from that morning and something else that was inherently all Owen. The heat and close proximity of his body, his face, his mouth, were starting to work their magic on her. It was astounding that he could turn the simple act of putting earrings on her into an erotic event.
She shivered when his fingers brushed her neck as he touched the earrings and made them swing from her ears.
“Beautiful,” he said, his gaze on hers, not her ears.
“Take me upstairs,” she whispered, the need for him sudden and urgent.
He shook his head. “I think you and I are overdue for a good rug burn.”
Her eyes went big. “The boys.”
He dipped his head and touched his lips to her neck. “Do you remember when we lived in that little one-bedroom when we were first married?” he asked, his breath warm on her skin.
Her body came instantly to life under his touch. “I do,” she sighed, her arm coming up around his neck as she turned her body toward him.
“Liam used to sleep right in the same room with us.” He trailed his fingers down her throat an
d touched the hollow at the base. “Remember the first time he pulled himself to standing?”
Grace wriggled her hips at the feel of him smiling against the underside of her jaw.
“We’d just finished making love.” She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of finding him standing in his crib across the room, wide awake. He’d been standing there with the most clinically curious look on his face, and then he’d burst into peals of laughter. “They’re not babies anymore, husband. They’d be devastated if they came downstairs and found us rutting like animals in the living room.”
He snorted and straightened. “All right,” he said, groaning as he stood.
Together they put out the candles and cleaned up the wineglasses. He held her hand as he led her upstairs and made sure their bedroom door was locked tight against unwanted intruders. He made love to her twice more, first with his mouth and then with his whole body, the old-fashioned way—slowly, face-to-face.
As she came down from that second orgasm with her sweaty, spent husband collapsed and gasping on top of her, she could feel something in him was still unnerved by the argument they’d had that afternoon.
And she still didn’t have the foggiest idea about how to fix it.
Chapter Four
Ziegelski was leaning on her desk when they got to work Monday morning.
“I need to speak to you,” he said, stalking into Owen’s office.
Grace looked at Owen, who shrugged.
“Shut the door,” the older man barked as they stepped into the room. His face was bright red and a vein was bulging dangerously in his forehead. “How dare you carry on like hormone-riddled teenagers in my office,” he growled, clearly trying not to shout.
“Hold on.” Owen stepped forward, hands raised. “What are you talking about?”
Heat flooded Grace’s face.
“You know goddamn well what I mean.” Ziegelski poked a bony finger in Owen’s chest. “Having your wife pleasure you here at the office. Leaving work early to go do God only knows what.” He hissed the last of the sentence.
Mr. Sir (Ball & Chain) Page 2
