Chapter 2
2
S cratch that. I tried to hop onto the Harley.
I’d love to report that I was the personification of all things hip and cool as I hiked my left leg over the seat, but um…not so much.
The weight of my briefcase counteracted with my momentum, yanking me off-balance. It was the equivalent of taking a step forward just as some wise-cracking jerk tugged on your hoodie. One second I was leaning into Jack and the next, I was a human windmill, waving my arms in a wide circular motion I hoped like hell would keep me from falling flat on my ass in front of my colleagues at one of DC’s most prestigious law firms.
It was looking pretty freaking grim, but I was an eternal optimist. So while I fought the pull of gravity, I sought silver linings. It was Friday, no one was paying attention, and if they happened to notice the geeky fellow attorney who’d teetered off a big-ass bike and bruised his pride and his coccyx, they’d forget about me by Monday and?—
Jack swooped in mid-doom spiral and grabbed my hand.
He didn’t say a word, didn’t laugh or even raise a brow. He just squeezed my fingers and smiled in that sweet, familiar way of his that wordlessly communicated, “I got you, I love you.”
Good news: my next attempt was successful.
We sped through rush hour traffic, weaving between slow drivers and rounding congested corners with expert precision. It was exhilarating. And by the time Jack glided the Harley into the garage of our Georgetown house, I was laughing like a loon, all the stresses of the week firmly pushed aside.
I was home now…with Jack. Everything in my world was where it should be. I still had a shit-ton to do before our guests arrived, but it was going to be all right.
I grinned as I handed him my helmet. “Okay, I admit that was fun and hey, you didn’t run a single light. Well done.”
Jack scoffed. “Gee, thanks.”
I straightened my suit coat and marched to the door. “I’ll wrap the potatoes and wash the veggies, then jump in the shower, change my clothes, and?—”
“Whoa. Where are you going?”
“Where do you think I’m going?” I countered. “We have chores to do. Our friends will be here in an hour and— uh-oh . You’re giving me sex eyes.”
He barked a laugh. “C’mere. You’re tense, and I’m gonna help you with that. Leave your bag at the door, and get your ass over here.”
“Jack…”
“Curtis.”
I swallowed hard, unsurprised at how quickly the fight had gone out of me. I couldn’t resist him. In fact, maybe I needed this…and maybe Jack knew it. He knew what I liked, and I knew how to please him. Besides, an hour was plenty of time anyway, right?
I propped my briefcase next to the garage door leading to our kitchen, unbuckling my belt as I strode toward my man. “Gotta be fast.”
Jack grasped my wrists and pulled me against his chest, crashing his mouth over mine. The kiss was rough and hungry, and it ended far too soon. I curled my hand at his nape to draw him near, but he was already two steps ahead of me, unzipping my trousers and sliding his fingers under the elastic of my boxer briefs.
He loosened my tie and the top buttons on my oxford shirt, then licked a trail along the column of my throat and bit into my shoulder. He ghosted a finger along my crease, up and down, holding me close as he rocked his pelvis suggestively. The friction sent a lightning bolt of desire through my veins. It was so, so fucking good, but it wasn’t enough.
I clawed at Jack’s leather jacket, chasing his tongue in a manic kiss. I pressed our hard-ons together and pumped my hips double time. He devoured me as he worked a single digit between my cheeks, grazing my opening in a wicked tease. I sighed in relief when he broke the kiss to push my trousers and boxer briefs to the ground and take me in hand.
“This is mine. Such a fucking perfect cock,” Jack drawled. “You’re so hard for me, aren’t you?”
I shivered. “Y-yes.”
Jack licked his palm and wrapped his fingers around my shaft, stroking me just the way I liked it. I was pretty sure no one on the planet had less chill than me. I lost all sense of propriety with this man, folding like a house of cards, ’cause how could I not? Jack’s touch was magic and I was officially a horny mess, bucking into his tight fist as he worked a finger inside my passage.
I knew it wouldn’t take much for me to come. A second digit or a?—
“Bend over the bike.”
Great idea . I shuffled like a penguin in sand, halting with one hand on the seat. “Hang on. We can’t—not here, not now, not—oh, my God, you brought lube.”
Jack snorted, pulling a travel-sized packet of lube from his pocket. “I think this is from our hike at the cabin last month. I found it while I was waiting for you, and it seems a shame to waste it. Spread your cheeks.”
“I…”
One hard smack on the ass later, I obeyed, resting my torso on the seat as I held my cheeks open. We made a quite a picture. I was half-undressed, my suit pants pooled at my ankles, rigid cock peeking from the folds of my wrinkled shirt while my fully dressed husband casually finger-fucked me, grazing my prostate till I saw stars.
And let’s be clear, Jack was seriously good at porny pillow talk or garage sex talk, as it were.
“Look at that pretty fucking hole. That’s mine. All fucking mine. Are you ready for my dick? I’m gonna drill this sweet ass, fuck you till you forget anything or anyone else exists,” he purred. “It’s me and you, baby. My cock, your hole.”
Pure poetry, and I was there for it. The feel of Jack’s jeans against my bare thigh and his slick fingers stretching me open evoked some of my favorite fantasy material.
I’d had a particularly awesome recurring one in high school involving the class bad boy. I hadn’t been interested in the quarterback or the student body president. No, I’d always had a thing for the outsider who’d cut class on the regular and smoke cigarettes in the school parking lot. My diametric opposite who’d never given me the time of day.
Life was weird as fuck ’cause I’d married a much better version of that fantasy—wickedly hot and just the right kind of nasty. Look at me now, for fuck’s sake. Precum gathered at my tip and drooled on Jack’s precious motorcycle. I was doing my best not to groan like a ho and accidentally alert the neighbors, but it wasn’t easy.
Damn it, I was going to beg. Now.
“Give it to me, Jack. Give me your cock. Please, I need?—”
He pulled away, gently caressing my upper leg. “ Shh . I’ll take care of you, honey.”
The sound of a zipper being undone, the clank of a belt buckle, and the crinkle of the lube wrapper heightened my senses. Any second now, he’d put me out of my misery. The waiting was almost over. Almost…almost .
Jack moved behind me, lined his cock at my entrance, and pushed inside, slow and steady. Just how I liked it.
I whimpered and trembled under him, willing my body to relax. I relished the burn and the sweet flush of pleasure that followed.
But I liked it even more when he held my hips and thrust.
“Oh, fuck! Yes, yes, yes.”
I white-knuckled the Harley with my left hand, jerking myself with my right, while he fucked me hard and deep.
And Jack was still talking, saying crazy things like, “You’re mine, and you’re so beautiful, so fucking perfect.”
After ten-plus years together, I believed him. I felt powerful and sexy. Moreover, I felt cherished. Weird sentiment with my ass in the air and my prostate being pummeled, but true. I was his, and that was all that mattered. Forever and always.
“Jack, I’m gonna…oh, fuck!”
He pumped his hips double time, pushing me off the precipice. Cum shot over his fist and probably onto the bike. I didn’t care. I’d been happily reduced to a puddle of pleasure. And I wanted the same for Jack.
I shifted, pulling him close for an awkward sideways kiss that was somehow sexier than it should have been. He was still moving, still fucking me, his tongue twisting with mine and then…
Jack roared with the force of his release, flooding my insides. It was primal and rough and nasty, but God, I loved it.
I loved him. It was that simple.