Chapter 26 – James #2
For the entire ride home, I didn't dare touch Maura. If I started, I’d fuck her right on the backseat of the town car, or in the elevator, under the watch of Nate’s security cameras.
No, if I was going to worship Maura the way I wanted to, I had to wait.
From the gallery to the car to the building lobby, I use every ounce of self-control to stay patient
My patience gets used up the second the elevator doors close behind us.
Cradling Maura’s face in my hands, I pull her mouth to mine, sweeping my tongue inside to taste her. She melts against me, wrapping her arms around my neck. The feeling of her soft body against mine makes my blood hum with possessive pleasure.
This woman is mine.
The artist who made those earth-shattering, awe-inducing paintings is my wife. Which means that tonight, I’m the one who gets to feel her fall apart on my tongue and my cock.
Our kisses quickly turn rougher and more demanding.
Maura’s hands tear at my clothes, like she could tear off my shirt and blazer just by tugging at them.
Fuck, I’m never going to get her up to my bed at this point.
Growling, I tear my face away from hers.
Taking her hand, I haul her toward the stairs up to my bedroom.
We both hurry up the stairs, reaching impatiently for each other again on the landing. My hands move firmly over Maura’s curves as I walk her backward into my room until we’re inches from the bed.
I drag down the zipper at the back of Maura’s dress, finding her wearing a skintight silk tank underneath it. I feel a flash of disappointment not to find bare skin underneath, but I brush it away. There’s more than enough of my wife to touch, even if she keeps the shirt on.
“I need to see you,” she moans, tugging at my lapels.
“Get on the bed,” I grunt. She crawls backward toward the pillows while I tear off every stitch of clothing until I’m standing naked in front of her. Her caramel eyes move hungrily over my bare body, lingering on my abs, my thighs, my thick, heavy cock.
I stop at the edge of the bed, lazily pumping my cock in my hand while I look my fill of Maura. Her pale, soft skin is luminous against her black tank. A tiny black lace thong barely covers her sex and narrow hips. I intend to rip it off with my fucking teeth.
“You’re so fucking beautiful..” I lean down, reverently kissing her ankles and calves.
Maura sighs, her hands grasping the sheets tight.
“It doesn’t seem fair that you’re able to make so much beauty with those hands of yours.
” My mouth moves up further, kissing the rise of her knees.
“I’m awed by your art, Maura. It’s remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“James,” she sighs.
She’s whimpering as I cup her through her lace panties.
They’re practically soaked already. Sliding the fabric to the side, I trace my fingers over her pussy.
She lets out a shuddering breath, and I crawl up to swallow her moans as I stroke from her entrance to her clit.
Over and over, I follow the same path until she’s dripping all over my fingers.
“You were fucking incredible tonight,” I growl against her neck. “My brilliant wife.”
Her body goes rigid, and she ducks her head like she wants to hide from me. Not her usual reaction to praise. “The show went well. Sydney did a good job.”
“But it was your show.” I press hot kisses down her neck, stopping at her collar. “Your amazing, brilliant work. Your creations, making people feel joy and awe and electricity.”
She hums in response. Her shoulders rise, almost like she’s sinking in on herself. It’s the praise for her work, I realize. Maura blooms under my praise for her body, or for the way she takes my cock. Compliments for her talent make her wither.
I pull away, hovering over her. “You know how insanely talented you are, don’t you?”
Pink rises in her cheeks. “You’re being nice.”
“I’m being truthful. You didn’t just show me your paintings tonight,” I murmur, strumming her clit with my thumb. “You let me right inside your heart. You made me feel what you feel. You know what I saw when I looked at Warm Front?”
Maura bites her lip. “I don’t know.”
I lower my mouth to her neck, licking and kissing it.
“I saw thunder and lightning and pounding rain. I saw grief and love and hope. I saw the world, massive and powerful, and I saw how small I am next to it.” Maura’s hips thrash against my hand, and I pin them down with my own hips.
“I saw the whole fucking universe shifting. You did that, Maura. My genius wife took rocks and paints and made a goddamn miracle.”
Her eyes flash, and I think I might see a sheen of tears before she squeezes them shut. She doesn’t want to let me see how my words affect her, so I press light kisses to the corners of her eyes instead.
“You’re extraordinary, Maura. I’m not the only one who saw that tonight. I just hope that maybe you can see it too.”
She reaches between our bodies, taking my cock in her hand. She strokes it and moves it toward her entrance. I shake my head.
“Let me make you come first,” I insist.
“Please, James.” Her eyes blink open, brimming with emotion. “I just want to feel you inside me. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
I nod, incapable of denying her that. Still kissing her neck, I rock slowly inside her.
When I enter her, she arches off the bed with a cry that might be pain, might be pleasure, might be both.
“Breathe,” I remind her, even though I can barely follow my own advice. “Open up for me. Let me in.”
“I'm trying—”
“I know you are. You always try so hard.” I kiss her softly, at odds with the way my cock is splitting her open. “My overachiever. My beautiful, tight, perfect wife.”
She laughs breathlessly. “Are you praising me or my—”
“Both.” I hold still, letting her adjust. “Definitely both.”
She wraps her legs around my waist and urges me along while I keep kissing her neck and temples.
When I’m halfway inside, she cradles my face with one hand.
“Wait,” she whispers. “I just—thank you. Thank you for all of it.”
I know she means more than buying the painting, more than sliding my cock inside her when she asked.
“You deserve it,” I promise her. “You deserve everything, my brilliant wife.”
We gaze into each other’s eyes while I rock all the way inside her, while I stroke her clit until she cries out her orgasm. Our eye contact only breaks after I roar out my own climax and pull her body to curl in against mine.
Spending a million dollars on the painting was nothing. The fact that it’s a fraction of the money in my bank account is nothing. Maura is starting to feel more valuable than all of it.