Chapter 46
ELI—SIX MONTHS LATER
“Are you planning on coming to bed tonight, Mr. Hart?” Sapphire swans into my home office wearing… well, nothing… except for a four-carat sapphire engagement ring… oh, and that damn belly ring she likes to tease me with.
She’s butt naked and beautiful, and my cock springs to life in an instant, knowing that she’s all mine.
My mouth goes dry, my heart pounding in my chest as she walks toward me, with the energy of a black cat, exaggerating the sway of hips to accentuate her delicious curves I can never get enough of.
Opposite me, she rests her hands on my desk and leans forward, squeezing her tits together, seductively batting her eyelashes, pulling out all the stops, as if trying to make me jump over the desk and take what I want. But I don’t.
I wait.
To see what she’ll do next.
Her playfulness fascinates me, and she knows it.
She’s a powerhouse in business, winning awards, shifting perspectives, and proving how brilliant she is again and again.
Yet what strikes me most is the spark she carries outside the boardroom.
She laughs with genuine joy, the kind that lifts you without trying, and she turns even the smallest moments into something big, bright, and memorable.
She never takes life too seriously, and somehow that makes me love her even more.
And I love that she’s always testing me, pushing my boundaries in the best ways, encouraging me to loosen up, to match her energy, and to see the world the way she does, full of possibility, humor, and a touch of mischief, which she’s brimming with tonight.
Tempting me further, she runs her fingers through her freshly dyed hair: ice blonde at the roots fading to lavender at the ends this week.
“Are you almost done for the night?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and twirling a lock of hair around her finger while resting one hand on the desk.
“No.” But I’m about to be undone by her, I already know it; my hands are itching to touch her.
She fakes a pout. “But I’m lonely, Elijah.”
“Can’t you find something to entertain yourself with, baby?”
“Maybe.” She uncurls her finger from her hair and moves her gaze to my desk. Boldly, she flicks a pen off the desk, then another. “Oopsie.” She bites her bottom lip between her teeth.
Oh, I see what she’s doing.
Except it doesn’t bother me anymore because, with the help of rapid eye movement therapy, ERP cognitive behavioral therapy and eye movement therapy called EMDR specifically designed for just-right OCD, I no longer feel the need to align objects to feel in control.
Following Dad’s accident and then Sapphire’s, I signed up for intensive therapy sessions to reach where I am today.
It’s been hard at times, but looking back, I no longer recognize the old me.
I don’t want to be that guy again, and I’ve done everything I possibly can to be better for Sapphire. It’s what she deserves.
I play along with Sapphire’s game. “Are you going to pick them up?” I rest my back against the chair and point to the floor.
“Nope.” She shrugs dismissively and pushes a box of paper tissues then a block of sticky notes off my desk, in rainbow colors, of course, because that’s what Sapphire prefers.
In silence, I scowl at her, pretending to be annoyed, even though I honestly couldn’t care less.
She raises one perfectly plucked brow in a “what are you going to do about it?” kind of way.
When I don’t react, she retaliates to get a rise out of me.
In a full-blown brat moment, she extends her arm in front of her and swings it across the top of my desk, knocking everything to the floor—pens, files, a photo frame, the disused acupressure headache clip I don’t need anymore, and a donut stress toy Sapphire bought me last month because she said it was perfect for me. For us.
Everything crashes to the ground. The sound of items clattering and banging when they hit the floor causes Ghost to run out of my office.
It’s probably just as well because I can’t have sex when he’s around; he’s a cock blocker when he wants to be, and I swear I get stage fright every time he’s nearby.
“Sapphire.” I say her name like a warning.
“Elijah.” The way she says my name makes my dick thicken in my boxers, like she’s breathing life into my name.
Lifting one knee and then the other, she climbs onto my desk until she’s on all fours, her gaze fixed on mine as she crawls across the short width of the desk.
“Are you mad at me for messing up your desk, Mr. Hart?” she purrs, reaching out to grab my lavender tie that’s the exact shade she dyes her hair because I’m a fool for her and I haven’t yet had the opportunity to change since I returned from court today.
It’s been a long day, and I still have paperwork to finalize for tomorrow’s court hearing, and that’s the only reason I’m working late.
The day after court, we go on vacation to Singapore, before flying to Tokyo for three weeks, and I’m running out of time to finalize everything.
But this.
With Sapphire.
I have time for.
I run my forefinger back and forth across my bottom lip. “Would you like me to be mad, Sapphire?”
“Not mad, but I like it when you’re rough with me.” She wraps her hand around my tie. “Maybe you could punish me for being a bad girl tonight.” Her tongue darts out before she bites her bottom lip between her teeth as if begging me to taste it.
“What do you think your punishment should be, Sapphire?” I’m yet to touch her, and I’m about to lose it if I don’t.
“You could try to teach me how to play chess again?” she says coyly. “That’s torture in itself.”
I chuckle at the memory of her hating every minute of her lesson that ended with me fucking her instead, chess pieces scattered all around us, one of the antique marble pieces completely smashed to pieces as it hit the floor in our frantic sex session. I don’t care; it was totally worth it.
“Or what about an orgasm or two?” she replies sweetly, pulling me by my tie toward her as if I’m a fucking dog, which I am; I’m already panting like one.
“That doesn’t sound like punishment.” There are millimeters between us, her lips almost touching mine, and I finally give in. Seeing her naked like this on my desk is just too much for me to handle.
I grab her chin and crash her lips against mine, pulling her in for a deep kiss, our tongues colliding, making us both groan. “You want me to be rough with you?” I ask between kisses, only breaking our kiss to rise to my feet.
She squeals when I move unexpectedly. In a quick motion, I lift her off the desk, and she instinctively wraps her legs around my waist so I can set her back down on the desk.
“Do you want my cock, baby?”
Sapphire provides the answer I was seeking, reclining back, with her feet flat on the edge of the desk and her legs spread wide for me.
“Fill me up, Elijah.” She arches her back when she touches herself, her sapphire ring sparkling under the low lighting of my office, hair fanned out across the surface of my desk.
She’s so fucking beautiful, and every day I have to pinch myself to remind myself that she’s real and mine. All fucking mine.
I slide a finger deep into her body as she continues to play with herself.
From up here, it’s the prettiest view, her eyes closed, half smiling, enjoying my touch.
Her body is always so responsive. “You’re soaked, baby.”
She moans when I add another finger, stretching her, getting ready for my cock.
Moving her finger faster over her swollen clit, she works herself into a frenzy, my fingers moving in and out of her at the same rhythm.
Falling to my knees, I move her hand out of the way for me to take over and I flick her pretty clit with my tongue, then cover her entire pussy with my mouth.
This woman has me so fucked; I need to devour her.
Knowing what she loves, I finger fuck her at the same time, building her pleasure… until she’s writhing, digging her fingers into my hair to keep me in place, rubbing her pussy against my face to get herself off.
I thrust my fingers deeper, fucking her into orgasm.
She cries out, telling me she’s coming, telling me she loves me, and not to stop.
How could I stop when all I want to do is spend the rest of my life making her happy?
Holding my face against her pussy, I can’t breathe as she rides out her orgasm, coming all over my tongue and smothering me in her juices.
Death by pussy suffocation sounds like one hell of a way to go.
I lap up every drop of her orgasm, pushing my thick fingers into her, until she’s squirming, begging me to stop because she’s too sensitive.
Smiling against her pussy, I kiss her clit, before moving to her inner thigh and kissing it, then her stomach, her pink crystal belly ring I fucking love, licking her nipple, one, then the other, moving up her body.
She watches me, looking down, me looking up, drinking me in with her eyes, taking note of the care and attention I’m giving her, then I kiss the base of her throat, before covering my hungry mouth over hers, my scruff coated in her arousal.
There’s no doubt she’ll taste herself on my lips.
“You’re so beautiful when you come, baby. I love you.” It’s so much that sometimes it’s hard to concentrate.
I deliver a punishing kiss, hoping she understands how much I mean it, pouring my adoration for her through my touch.
I’m completely at her mercy and she knows it. I show her every day how much I love her. From having her morning matcha made and by her bed every morning, to surprise trips to animal sanctuaries and donations to dozens of charities she’s passionate about. All I want to do is make her happy.
In return she showers me with kisses, and donuts, and sometimes, if she’s awake before I am, I wake up with her mouth wrapped around my cock. We are perfect for each other.
The term fools for love sums us up perfectly.