Chapter 13 #2
And you've been at the office since six AM. Go home. Take a bath. Relax. I'll bring dinner tonight and we can go over the seating chart like civilized people instead of you stress-eating at your desk.
How do you know I'm stress-eating?
Because I can see the empty wrapper from that chocolate bar you keep in your desk drawer. Top left, behind the files.
He couldn’t, but that was neither here nor there.
Go home, Angelina. That's an order.
You can't order me around at work.
Watch me. I'm calling Maya right now and telling her to kick you out.
"Don't you dare—" I said aloud though he couldn’t hear me.
My office phone rang. Maya's extension.
I picked up. "Traitor."
"Mr. Moretti says you need to go home and rest." She didn't even sound apologetic. "And I agree. You've been working too hard. Go home, Ms. Castellano. Everything here will be fine."
I sighed. "Fine. But I'm taking my laptop."
"No you're not." Dez's voice came through the line. "Leave the laptop. Leave the files. Go home and rest. That's final."
Did Maya have me on conference call?
"You're very bossy." I snorted.
"And you love it." I could hear the smile in his voice. "See you at seven. Wear something comfortable. We're having a quiet night in."
He hung up before I could respond.
I looked at Maya through the glass wall of my office. She was grinning.
"Your fiancé is very protective," she observed.
"My fiancé is a control freak." But I was smiling as I said it.”And he’s got you wrapped around his finger already.”
Her shocked expression was just the retaliation that I needed. I disconnected the call and packed up my bag—without the laptop, as ordered—and headed for the elevator.
Time to go home and destress.
I made it home quickly, took the bath Dez had ordered, and was feeling significantly more relaxed by the time seven o'clock rolled around.
The doorbell rang, unnecessary since Dez had a key to my apartment, but he always used it when he was bringing food.
Some weird sense of propriety that made me smile.
I opened the door to find him holding bags from my favorite Italian restaurant and wearing jeans and a red polo that made him look unfairly attractive.
"Hi," I said, leaning up to kiss him.
He met me halfway, the kiss deepening until I was pressed against the doorframe and seriously considering skipping dinner entirely.
"Food first," he murmured against my lips, reading my mind. "Then the seating chart. Then other things."
"Other things?"
"Many other things." His smile was wicked. "But you need to eat. Come on."
We spread the food across my dining table. There was pasta, salad, fresh bread, and tiramisu for dessert. When we finished, he stood up, gathering the dinner plates.
"Now for the fun part."
"What fun part?"
He turned and looked at me, his gray eyes darkening with heat. "The part where I see if you can follow instructions while distracted."
My stomach flipped. "What kind of instructions?"
"Go to your bedroom. Take off everything except your panties. Then bring me the seating chart and a pen."
Heat flooded through me. "Dez—"
"That wasn't a request." His voice dropped to that commanding tone that never failed to make me wet. "Go. Now."
I went.
My hands were shaking slightly as I stripped off my comfortable clothes—leggings and a oversized sweater—and stood in just my black lace panties. I grabbed the seating chart and pen from the table and waited. Dez came out of the bathroom already shirtless, his jeans unbuttoned but still on.
"Damn you’re sexy," he murmured, taking the chart and pen from me. "Now, here's how this is going to work."
He positioned me at the foot of the bed, bending me over it so my chest pressed against the mattress and my ass was in the air.
"You're going to tell me where those last six people should sit," he said, his hand running up the back of my thigh. "And while you do, I'm going to fuck you from behind. Nice and slow. Deep."
My breath caught.
"But," his hand hooked into my panties, dragging them down, "you don't get to come until everyone is properly seated. Understood?"
"That's not fair. How am I supposed to focus?"
"Life's not fair." He slid two fingers through my folds, finding me already wet. "But you're going to do it anyway. Because you follow instructions and like when I’m inside you. Don't you?"
"Yes, sir," I whispered.
"That's better." He withdrew his fingers and I heard him shucking his jeans. "Now. Maya. Where does she go?"
"Table—" I gasped as he positioned himself at my entrance, the head of his cock pressing against me but not entering. "Table seven. With the Castellano team."
"Good." He pushed in an inch, just the tip, and I whimpered. "And her plus one?"
"Same table. Next to her."
Another inch. "Product developers?"
"Table twelve. With—oh god—with Gianna and her friends."
He pulled back slightly, then pushed in deeper. "You grip my dick just right, baby.” He sighed, and I looked over my shoulder to see him relaxing into the moment. “Keep going. My cousins, Alexei and Dmitri?"
I could barely think. He was filling me so slowly, deeply, giving me just enough to feel full but not enough to satisfy me completely.
"Table fifteen," I gasped. "Far corner. With Boris and Svetlana."
"Mm. Good thinking." He pulled back, almost all the way out, and I made a desperate sound. "But you're not done yet. You still have to write it down."
"What?"
"The seating chart." He reached around and pressed the paper and pen into my hands. "Write down where everyone goes. Legibly."
This was impossible. He was buried inside me, thick and hard and not moving, and he expected me to write?
"Dez, please—"
"Write, Angelina." He pulled back an inch, and I felt the loss keenly. "Or I stop completely."
I grabbed the pen with shaking hands and tried to focus on the chart.
Maya. Table seven.
I scrawled it in the box, my handwriting a disaster.
"Legibly," Dez reminded me, and thrust forward suddenly, making me cry out.
I erased and rewrote. Better, but still shaky.
He set a slow, deep rhythm. Not fast enough to push me toward orgasm, but enough to make me feel every inch of him. Every drag of his erection against my inner walls. Every time he hit that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. I cooed, loving the feel of him.
I forced myself to focus. Product developers. Table twelve. The pen skittered across the paper as he thrust harder.
"Concentrate," he commanded, his hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. "Four more entries to go."
I was going to kill him. Then he began giving me this slow, deep, punishing stroke that made my knees weak. It was so good I could taste it, making my lick my lips and then bit the corner of them. It felt that damn delicious.
Quickly, I wrote down Alexei and Dmitri's placement, the letters barely recognizable. Then Maya's girlfriend's name. Then the specific seat numbers for the product developers.
"Done," I gasped, dropping the pen. "It's done, please—"
"Good girl." He picked up the pace, fucking me harder now, deeper. "Now tell me, did you finish your vows?"
"What?" I could barely process the question.
His…
"Your vows." His hand snaked around to find my clit, circling it with maddening pressure. "For the wedding. Did you write them?"
"No, not yet—"
"Why not?" He slowed down, and I made a sound of protest.
"Because I don't know what to say," I admitted, my voice breaking. "Because how do I put into words what the last three months have been? How do I tell you in front of all those people what you mean to me?"
He stilled completely, buried deep inside me.
Then he pulled me up, turning me in his arms so I was facing him. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his lap, guiding me to straddle him.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
I did, and the expression in his eyes stole my breath.
"You don't have to have perfect words," he said, his hands cupping my face. "You just have to tell the truth. Whatever comes from here—" he pressed his hand over my heart, "—that's what I want to hear."
"Have you finished yours?" I asked.
"Yes."
"When?"
"The night after I proposed." He smiled slightly. "I've been editing them for three months, but the core of it has been there from the beginning."
"What do they say?"
"You'll find out soon." He kissed me softly. "But I'll give you a hint—they're about choosing you. Every day. Especially when it's hard."
My throat tightened. "Dez—"
"Finish them tonight," he said. "After I'm done with you. Write down what you feel. What you want. What you need me to know. And I promise you that whatever you say will be perfect."
"What if I cry?"
"Then you cry." He lifted me slightly, positioning me over his cock. "I'll probably cry too. Gianna keeps telling me I will."
"Really?"
"Really." He lowered me onto him slowly, and we both groaned. "Now. You have six people properly seated on that seating chart. Which means you've earned something."
"What's that?"
"Permission to come as many times as you want." He gripped my hips, helping me rise and fall in a rhythm that had me gasping. "So take what you need, baby. Take everything."
I did.
I rode him hard, chasing the orgasm that had been building since he first bent me over the bed. His hands guided me, his mouth found my breasts, his words—filthy and sweet and everything in between—pushed me higher and higher until I was crying out his name as I came.
He continued, triggering a second and third orgasm.
“Tight.” He growled. “You’re gripping me so tight.” He pulled me down hard as he fucked me. He was close. His face was tight with concentration as he worked us both over. “Now!” Dez spurted inside me, groaning into my neck as he came.
We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other.
"In a few more days," he began. "You'll be mine. Legally, officially, irrevocably mine."
"I'm already yours."
"I know." He kissed my temple. "But I want the world to know it too."
Later, after we'd cleaned up and crawled into bed, Dez pulled out his laptop.
"I'm going to answer some emails," he said. "You're going to write your vows."
"Now?"
"Now." He handed me a notebook and pen from his nightstand. "While it's fresh. While you're still feeling everything."
I stared at the blank page, anxiety rising.
"Just start with 'Dez,'" he said gently, not looking up from his laptop. "And go from there."
I took a breath and wrote.
Dez…
And then the words came. Not perfect. Not polished. But honest and raw and real. I wrote about the night we met. About the terror and excitement of saying yes to his proposal. About the way he'd spent three months showing me what love could look like even when it wasn't called love.
I wrote about trust and partnership and the future we were building together.
I wrote until my hand cramped and tears were streaming down my face and the page was full of words I'd never said out loud but needed him to hear.
When I finished, I looked over at Dez. He'd abandoned his laptop and was watching me with an expression that made my heart clench.
"Done?" he asked.
"Done."
"Good." He took the notebook and set it aside, then pulled me into his arms. "Now let me hold you."
"I love you," I whispered into his chest.
I felt him freeze. We hadn't said it yet. Not even after I'd agreed to marry him. We'd danced around it, implied it, shown it in a thousand different ways. But we hadn't said the words. Until now.
"Angelina—" His voice was rough.
"You don't have to say it back," I said quickly. "I just needed you to know. Before the wedding. Before everything changes. I needed you to know that this isn't just business for me anymore. It hasn't been for some time."
He was quiet for a moment that felt like an eternity. "Look at me."
I tilted my head back, meeting his gray eyes.
"I love you too," he said, his voice steady but his eyes showing vulnerability. "I don’t know when it happened, but… Probably since the moment you attacked me with kisses when you saw the Valentine's setup. But I was afraid—"
"Of what?"
"That saying it would jinx it somehow. That admitting how much I need you would give the universe permission to take you away." He kissed my forehead. "But I'm done being afraid. I love you, Angelina. I'm going to marry you and spend the rest of my life proving it."
I kissed him then, pouring everything I felt into it.
And when we finally broke apart, we fell asleep tangled together, my engagement ring catching the moonlight, our vows waiting to be spoken.
Now, I really couldn’t wait until our wedding. I wanted him mine already.