Leo
H azel is trembling. Her muscles shudder under my palm as I stroke her back, and her thighs twitch as she spreads her legs wider. Steady breaths float up from the sun lounger—she’s counting inhales and exhales—and I’d stop, I’d call this whole thing off, panicking that she’s stressed, if she weren’t so desperately slick and needy. The evidence glints in the starlight.
She wants this.
My perfect little assistant wants me as badly as I want her. Those hips tilt up for me, urging me to take her already, and when my shaft nudges against her entrance, she lets out a strangled moan.
“You’re sure?”
Because I’d never hurt her. I’m going to love this woman until the day I die, and there’s no rush; we don’t need to do this tonight. I could dress Hazel again, take her inside, bundle her into a hot shower and order takeout to stop her stomach from rumbling. That works for me too. It would still be the best night of my life.
But: “ Please ,” Hazel begs, ass wiggling from side to side, coaxing me on. Taunting me. “Please, . I need you.”
Ah, hell.
When I grab her peachy ass with one hand, when I press the first inch inside her, Hazel is tighter and hotter than I ever dreamed . She’s a slick little furnace, strangling my shaft even as her body sucks it deeper, and the noises she makes, scrabbling at the sun lounger, testing my hold on her hair…
Jesus Christ.
Those breathy little moans will haunt me to my deathbed.
“M-more,” Hazel says, fingertips digging into the lounger so hard they turn bloodless. “ More , .”
Flexing my grip on her ponytail, I grit my teeth and press forward again.
Draw back slightly, then nudge inside.
Out, in.
Back, deeper.
She’s so tight.
And I’d worry about that, worry that Hazel doesn’t really want this, except she’s moaning and whimpering like a champ, squirming on my cock, and she’s so slick that I glide forward easily enough. Another reason for her tightness presents itself in my brain, the logical conclusion, and my newly awakened heart stutters in my chest.
“Have you done this before, sweetheart?”
I’m half hope, half dread. It would be such a gift, and such a responsibility.
“N-no,” Hazel says, throwing her hips back to take another inch of me inside. “But I know I want this. Please.”
Her trust spreads through me, sparkling like sunshine.
And—as if I could fucking stop. A helicopter could appear above this rooftop, a whole SWAT team could parachute down, guns drawn and blazing, and I’d be helpless to do anything except keep thrusting, pulling her hair, squeezing her ass. Working my assistant into a quivering puddle.
Only Hazel could stop me now, and she’s too busy groaning with pleasure, rocking back on my length. Pulling firmly on her ponytail, I arch her back even further, drawing her like a bow. Drops of water from the pool gleam on her back, tinted silver in the darkness.
“You’re perfect.” The words grit out of me, and I find a rhythm now, thrusting into my assistant from behind. The sun lounger creaks beneath us, and the wind whips across the rooftop, but there’s no one to witness this but the stars. “You’re so fucking perfect, Hazel. Look at you, taking my cock. You were built for this. Built for me.”
Hazel spasms around my length, getting impossibly slicker.
“,” she sighs. “.”
Teeth gritted, blood boiling, I reach around and rub her clit. Hazel bucks and moans, so wild and free, and I plant a foot on the rooftop to keep from toppling off the damn sun lounger.
She won’t shake me that easily. Not until she comes for me, pretty and flushed, and shows me all the noises she can make.
It doesn’t take long. A few deep thrusts, hips angled to hit all the sensitive spots inside her, with a few firm circles of her clit. Just like that, Hazel throws back her head and cries out, loud and fractured, as her channel clamps down, fluttering around my cock.
The heat of her. Jesus Christ.
I come so hard it’s almost painful. Fill her up, painting her insides with spurt after hot spurt, cramming her body full of my seed, and it’s so darkly satisfying, staking this claim. Who knew I’d be such a caveman with my girl?
“Oh,” Hazel says, collapsing forward on wobbly arms. I stay inside her, throbbing. “Oh my god .”
Yeah.
That was—something else.
How long until we can go again?
* * *
Two years later
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the sight of Hazel under my desk, but today, it’s not quite right.
We’ve done this a hundred times before. My perky, always helpful wife simply loves abandoning her own desk to crawl under mine and help me relax, and who am I to stop her? Only the luckiest bastard on earth, that’s who. I know a small miracle when I see it, and I have never, ever stopped my wife from going under there before. I’m not crazy.
But it’s different now that she’s pregnant. Hazel’s not too far along; her bump is barely visible, but she’s already moving a little awkwardly, and shit, what if her back aches while she’s down there? What if her knees hurt? What if—
“Up.” Throwing my chair back, I scoop my wife beneath her armpits and lift her out from under my desk. “Up you come. You’re not going under there today.”
Hazel huffs, smacking at my hands, but she lets me sit her on top of my desk without too much of a fight. She folds her arms and hits me with a glare.
“Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean that I’m helpless, .”
“I know that.”
Obviously. But if Hazel thinks I’m going to let my pregnant wife crawl on the ground for me, she is so incredibly wrong. That game is fun—usually.
But I’m not in the mood to watch Hazel crawl these days. I’m in the mood to spread my wife’s legs and worship her as she deserves.
“Look at that frown.” I tut, nudging her knees apart, and Hazel grumps but allows it. There’s a flash of pink lace as her legs widen. “I thought I was the cranky one.”
And yet here I am, smiling so hard my cheeks ache, and there’s my usually-bubbly wife—pouting because I won’t let her get sore knees. It’s a topsy-turvy day, but I love it.
This feels right.
Everything feels right with Hazel.
Sliding that ring on her finger; choosing a new home to start a family; coming to work together every day. All perfect. Even the small, mundane stuff like grocery shopping and arguing over which movie to watch—it all feels good with Hazel. Whenever I’m with her, I have this bone-deep certainty that I’m in the right place at the right time.
“You’ll have a new assistant soon.” Those arms tighten over Hazel’s chest, and her lips tighten. “You’ll be here with her, and I’ll be…”
Lunging forward, I catch my wife with a deep, searing kiss, my heart thundering against my ribs. She kisses me back just as desperately, clinging to my shoulders, as I reach beneath her skirt and pull her panties aside.
“You’re jealous,” I pant, tearing my mouth away and pressing a finger inside her. Hazel arches and groans, already so wet for me. “You’re actually jealous. That’s most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Hazel, I don’t see other women. Not like that. Honestly, I never did. I only see you, I fucking orbit around you, and every day that we’re apart I’ll be counting down the minutes until I’m home with you again.”
She flings her arms around my neck, riding my hand. I’ve got two fingers inside her now, and she’s so ready. So eager. “Really? You promise?”
How can she not know ?
“You’ll pick my assistant.” Trailing kisses down her throat, I suck a bruise onto her skin, because Hazel’s not the only territorial one here. Every time another man so much as looks at her, I growl, so I understand. “Pick an old grandmother. Pick a man. I don’t care, not for a goddamn second, and if it makes you feel better—”
“It… it does. I mean, I do trust you.” Hazel gasps as I shove my hips between her thighs, fumbling at my belt. She tugs on my waist, urging me closer. “I do trust you, , I swear. It’s just all these crazy hormones… this pregnancy brain…”
“It’s done.” Problem solved, and I don’t care if it’s a reasonable demand or not. My wife can demand the moon on a platter. “You’ll pick my assistant, and you’ll burst in here whenever you like, and I’ll rush home to you at the end of the day. And I’ll show you how ridiculous it is for you to worry. How gone I am for you.”
We crash together in a blur of half-shed clothes and fevered kisses. The curve of Hazel’s stomach presses against my front, and my heart pangs in my chest.
She is mine. Hazel’s mine, and I’m hers, and this baby will swell our family to three members. I can’t wait.
“Let me show you what you do to me,” I say, notching at her entrance. “Let me prove it.”
And my perfect wife takes me inside with a sigh.
* * *
Thanks for reading the Night to Remember series! I hope you loved it. :)
For more HEAs at the office, check out the Grumps Unleashed series, starting with Grump Gone Wild . I’m fake-dating the man of my dreams. But these feelings? They’re all too real.
I spend every Valentine’s Day baking cookies for my friends and neighbors. But the bad boy who just moved to town? He’s hungry for something else…
Happy reading!
xxx