His Love

“Gently, bunny,” I cautioned, worried about her being too rigorous while she was so far along.

“I can’t help it,” she panted as she rose up and dropped back down fast and hard.

Taking ahold of her lush, wide hips, I held her still and took over, pounding up into her pussy so I was doing all of the work.

Blair threw her head back and cried out in ecstasy as she splintered apart. I buried myself as deep as possible and latched onto one of her nipples again and bit. Not enough to really hurt, but enough to cause a spark of pain to mix with her pleasure. I knew it would intensify her orgasm, and I was rewarded with a deafening scream that echoed off the walls of our bedroom. Her pussy was wrapped so tightly around my cock that I couldn’t have moved it if I wanted to.

I switched to the other nipple, and I detonated when her milk splashed into my mouth. The world ceased to exist as I came with such violence that I briefly wondered if I would survive. Who the fuck cared? I wouldn’t want to go any other way.

My eyes popped open as the sound of my shout filled the back of the town car. Thankfully, the partition was soundproof, something I’d corrected after the first time I had my little fantasy.

I released my death grip on the bench seat and glanced down at my lap; grimacing at the sticky mess I’d made. Another lesson I learned after I’d ruined several pairs of pants. I stocked the car with hand towels when I realized I might as well give in to my morning day-dream because I always lost when I tried to fight it.

The crazy thing was, I hadn’t even touched myself. Nobody else had either since I hadn’t been interested in a woman since long before Blair. And I’d never needed to take myself in hand because my dick didn’t have any reason to get hard. Then, once Blair became my obsession, I still didn’t have the desire to take care of myself, despite sporting at least a semi pretty much all the time. It felt too much like betrayal. The only one who should be touching me, satisfying me, was my woman. And even in my dreams, she was able to do it.

I quickly cleaned up and threw the towel into a duffle bag I kept in the car for that exact reason. I dropped it at the cleaners on the weekends so that I was prepared again Monday morning.

The car slowed to a stop in front of my building just as I was tucking my somewhat limp dick back into my pants. I zipped up right before Benjamin opened my door. After a cursory glance to make sure no traces of my activities remained, I exited the vehicle.

At least I had my work, which I loved, to help keep my obsession from consuming my every thought throughout the day. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to stay away until the right time. There were so many days when I’d almost said fuck it and gave in to my need for her. But then logic would rear its ugly head and remind me that she’d be eighteen soon. I could wait.

Chapter 3

Justice

“Thatcher’s in your office,” Patti, my secretary, announced when I reached her desk, situated just outside my door.

I sighed—pretending I didn’t already know why he was there—and speared her with a reproachful glare. “What the hell, Patti? What happened to being the gatekeeper?” Patti had been my secretary since my brother and I started our investment firm, K-Corp, fifteen years ago. She was in her early fifties now, had been married for over thirty years, and had three kids who were grown and lived in the city.

She’d been the first person to apply for the job, and my brother and I had instantly fought over who got to hire her as their assistant. Luckily, I won the coin toss. But she’d been more mother to both us than our own ever had been. Her husband and kids were family to us, too.

“Language, young man!” she snapped, pointing her pen at me.

I rolled my eyes since Patti could curse with the best of them. “Sorry, ma’am.”

She nodded and patted her short, brown bob, brushing hair out of her face as she turned her attention to her computer screen.

“Um, Patti?”

“Hmmm?”

I put my hands on my hips and scowled. “Thatcher?”

“Oh yes, he’s in your office,” she repeated distractedly.

“Why?” I pressed.

“Because you’re a selfish son-of-a-bitch and I have a fucking bone to pick with you.” My brother stepped out of my office as he spoke, clearly fuming about something. Again, I pretended not to know why and simply raised a questioning brow.

“What he said,” Patti added with a grin. Shit, she obviously knew why Thatcher was there too.