Chapter 22 – James
JAMES
When I try to park my car, I’m blocked by a pile of broken concrete. The pile looks perilously close to collapsing on the car in the parking spot next to it, which is also mine. I only have two cars, which is, according to Ryan, an embarrassingly small number for a billionaire to own.
Personally, I think it’s one car too many. I haven’t driven the Porsche in years, since it gets terrible mileage and isn’t very practical to drive around Toronto. That doesn’t mean I want it crushed under a pile of cement. Frowning, I text Paul a picture. The contractor responds almost immediately.
Paul
Sorry, boss. I’ll send someone to clean that up ASAP.
James
I assume this means the dumbwaiter construction is underway.
Paul
The shaft is being dug out now. The infrastructure will be ready by the time the rock crusher arrives.
The final construction will have to wait until Maura has a few weeks to vacate her studio. I know she can’t be disturbed until after her gallery show is finished. Pass on my congratulations.
I swallow my annoyance. It’s worth having a messy parking spot for a contractor who prioritizes the important things. I can park my car in one of Ryan’s spots instead. Annoying him will be a bonus.
As I wait for the elevator to arrive, I find myself tapping my foot impatiently. I was already running behind schedule, thanks to a late meeting. The unexpected parking obstacles have just added on another five minutes. I’m running dangerously close to missing my appointment with my wife.
One I’m anxious not to miss.
All through my meetings this afternoon, my mind kept wandering to Maura, fantasizing about the sweet taste of her pussy and sinking my cock into her heat. No fucking international contracts could compare to that.
When I finally get to the penthouse, I find Maura perched on a stool at my kitchen island.
Papers are scattered across the kitchen island, mostly of rooms filled with smaller boxes—more ideas for how to lay out her show.
At least she’s wearing an oversized vintage button-up instead of her paint-splattered jumper.
Noise-canceling headphones cover her ears, and her auburn hair is pulled into a messy braid pulled over one shoulder.
I’m tempted to surprise her with a kiss at the nape of her neck.
But that’s not what our relationship is.
Instead, I tug on one of her headphones. She twitches, then smiles when she looks back and realizes it’s me.
“Hi,” she says, pulling the headphones off altogether. “Sorry, I was in work mode. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Are you sure it didn’t have something to do with these?” I tap the large headphones on the counter.
“Oh, those usually don’t block out the sound of your massive footsteps,” she teases. “You sound like a giant, stomping into the room.”
“I can’t help it.” I shrug. “I’m a big man.”
“One of the things I like about you.” Her eyes widen after she says that, and I realize she didn’t mean to blurt it out. Well, just because the compliment was accidental doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.
I move a little closer to her, letting her feel the difference in our heights. Her lips part slightly as she looks up at me.
“What time is it?” she asks softly.
“Eleven. My Tokyo call ran late.”
Her brows raise. “That puts you dangerously close to missing our meeting, husband.”
I shrug. “I have time.”
“How much, though? Because I noticed, you only put thirty minutes for today’s purple-colored baby-making slot.” She shoots me a mischievous smile, and I want to kiss it off her face.
“Do you think I’ll need longer than that?” I step forward, grabbing the edge of the counter and caging her in with my hands. She instinctively steps away from me so her back hits the counter, but she grabs my jacket lapels, running her fingers over the fabric.
“I think you might, if you want to make the experience satisfying.” Her eyes flit down to my mouth just as her tongue darts out to wet her own.
“That’s where you’re wrong, wife.” I press a little closer so she can feel the hard rise of my cock against her hip. “I don’t need any warm-up. I’m ready for you now, and I have a feeling you’re already craving me.”
She inhales a shallow breath, her body going loose and pliant against mine. “What makes you think that?”
“You’re so damn responsive.” I drag my lips over her temple, her cheek, down to the pounding pulse at her neck. “I barely have to say a word to have you soaked and wanting.”
The whimper she lets out makes my cock throb. “That’s presumptuous of you, husband,” she says breathily.
“I don’t think it is.” My fingers move to cup her sex through her shorts, and I chuckle when she moans. “Should I check for myself?”
When she doesn’t stop me, I slide the fabric to the side and drag my fingers along her slick sex. I repeat the motion, grinning as she gets wetter under my touch.
“That’s what I thought,” I mutter.
Maura throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and smashing her mouth to mine.
Her tongue meets mine in a heated frenzy, tasting and licking through my mouth like she’s ravenous for me.
I grab her pretty little ass and grind her against me just the way I like.
I could fuck her, right here on the counter, but that’s not what I want.
I want my wife spread out on my bed, writhing under my goddamn mouth.
Growling, I pull away from the kiss. “Upstairs now. I want you on my bed, no shorts, no panties.”
I go to pour myself a glass of water. Maura just stands there, blinking at me while I open the cabinet.
I raise an eyebrow. “Did you hear me?”
“Are you coming?”
“Eventually.”
A shiver runs through her, and I know she likes the idea of anticipation. Good. So do I.
I take my time drinking my water while my wife scurries upstairs. I don’t plan on making her wait long—a few minutes should be enough to have her desperate and writhing.
Once five minutes have ticked by on my Chopard, I shrug off my suit jacket and yank off my tie, lying them both over a chair. Rolling my sleeves up to my elbows, I stroll slowly up the stairs so Maura can hear each one of my footsteps.
She’s sitting at the edge of my bed, her eyes bright with anticipation. Her shirt covers her torso, but her pale legs gleam in the dimmed lights.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, my eyes moving slowly over her body. “Now get on your hands and knees.”
Her face flushes pink, and I know just how my orders are affecting her. As she moves to follow them, I notice the top button of her shirt has come undone.
It’s the only reason I catch a glimpse of the pale scar grazing the top of her sternum.
The long, precise, obviously surgical scar.
My breath catches, and fully inhaling suddenly feels impossible. Why does my wife have a scar on her chest?
It’s probably nothing—a childhood injury. I know for sure that it’s none of my goddamn business. If Maura wanted me to know about the scar, she would have told me. Fuck, it’s probably the whole reason she wants to wear a shirt during sex in the first place—she’s self-conscious about it.
But I can’t stand not knowing what it is.
What happened to my wife?
“That scar on your chest. Where did you get it?”
Maura freezes, and the color drains from her already pale face. Whatever memory I just touched, it’s something she doesn’t want to revisit now. Maybe ever. A brief moment passes, and she shakes her head, plastering a placid smile on her face.
“Nothing,” she says smoothly. “Old hospital drama.”
An answer that only raises more questions. She must know that because she sighs, sitting back on her heels.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
I want to press her. How was she hurt? When did it happen? Why doesn’t she want to discuss it? Curiosity rages, but I swallow it down. She doesn’t owe me those answers, and pushing her is only going to make her frustrated.
“Okay,” I say.
Her eyes search my face, but she must decide she can trust me not to push because she gets back on her hands and knees. An uneasy feeling curls in my stomach. My previous plans for tonight suddenly don’t appeal to me.
“Lie back, Maura.”
Her brow furrows. “But you said—”
“I changed my mind.”
“Is it because—”
“Lie back and spread your legs for me, wife.”
She sighs, but she does what I say. She makes a goddamn pretty picture, spread out and ready for me. I crawl onto the bed, grabbing her hips and shifting her so I can lay down on my stomach, my face inches from her pussy. Thank fuck for king-sized beds.
I run my nose along the seam where her thigh meets her torso, inhaling her musky scent.
“Is all this for me?” I swipe my thumb along her aching core and she sighs.
“Yes, James.”
I sweep my tongue along her outer lips, relishing how it makes her grind herself against my face. It’s so fucking sexy when she lets herself be needy like this. When I finally close my lips around her clit, she grabs my hair and tugs hard.
“You’re so fucking sweet,” I mutter against her, right before I start licking her in earnest. She tastes like a goddamn dream, tangy and musky and mine.
I could spend all fucking night here, lapping at her trembling pussy and tasting the sweetness pooling on my tongue.
She’s so goddamn responsive to me, it’s like she was made to be mine.
Soft whimpers and sighs fall from Maura’s lips. Her legs wrap around my shoulders, enveloping me in her.
“Just like that,” she cries when I press the flat of my tongue hard against her clit. I give her exactly what she wants, soaking up the feeling of her trembling thighs and the blood pulsing under her skin. My cock is pressing so hard against the bed, it almost hurts.
I know right when she’s about to come. I know it by the way her body tenses and breath hitches. I slide two fingers into her cunt just as her climax hits her.
The exquisite moan she makes when she comes almost drags me along with her.
I pump my fingers into her, prolonging her orgasm while I get her ready for me.
When the last tremor finishes, I roll onto my back.
I yank down my trousers and underwear and toss them on the floor.
I’m tearing through the buttons on my shirt when Maura lifts her head, finally on the other side of her orgasm.
“Climb on my cock,” I demand. “Ride me, Maura.”
She pushes herself up on trembling arms, straddling my hips and taking my cock in her soft hand.
After what feels like eternity, she finally slides down onto my head.
She braces her hands on my chest for support as she slowly lowers herself another inch.
Then another. She winces a little, and I press my fingers to her clit to soften the sting as she stretches for me.
“I’ve been waiting all day to touch this exquisite body.
To give my wife everything she fucking needs.
” I massage her clit with my fingers, feeling a rush of wetness in response.
“If that’s all you can take right now, I promise you, I only need those few inches to get you off, and it’s more than enough for me. ”
“But we only have thirty minutes,” she gasps.
Fuck, her pussy feels like goddamn heaven. I never want to be anywhere other than here, with my wife on top of me, my fingers on her clit and her head thrown back in pleasure.
“You think I only saved half an hour for this?” I run one hand up her side, feeling goosebumps rise on her soft skin.
“That’s what—” Maura cuts herself off with a moan as a ripple of pleasure runs through her. “That’s what was on the calendar.”
“The calendar was wrong.” I pump into her in small, shallow thrusts, savoring her moans. “Every fucking slot in my calendar should be purple, because I can’t stop thinking about you like this. Stretched around my cock. All flushed for me. Your pussy dripping on my skin.”
“God,” she cries, her fingers digging into my chest. She rocks against me, her rhythm growing erratic as it syncs up with mine. I grit my teeth, willing myself to not to come at the filthy sound of her wet cunt swallowing my cock.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me. I want to see that pretty face when you come all over my cock.”
My words push her over the edge. She throws her head back, moaning as her pussy squeezes the hell out of me.
“Did you hear that?” I ask.
“What?” Her voice sounds hazy and distant.
“That moan you give me when you come for me.” She comes out of the haze of her climax and her eyes focus on mine. “That’s what I think of when I’m in meetings. Not the pitch deck. Not the numbers.”
I drag the back of my fingers along her inner thigh and grin when she moves again.
“That sound, wife. You falling apart for me.”
She leans forward, framing my face in her hands and kissing me. Her mouth is just as hot and wet as her cunt. The world disappears—no work, no contracts, no galleries or calendars. It’s just Maura and me, our bodies hot and sweaty against each other, overcome with want.
My balls tighten, and I press just a little deeper inside her to make sure my seed reaches her womb. Maura moans with pleasure and I unload inside her, shouting her name.
We roll onto our sides, a tangle of limbs and sweaty flesh and shared breaths. My fingers run up and down her back through the fabric of her shirt. My mind goes to the scar on her chest, the one she won’t show me.
Maura might be my wife, but there are parts of her that will never really be mine.