Epilogue
Shea
Five years Later
Most people would be bummed to have to work late.
Not me.
I’m sitting at my desk with an absent smile on my face, my fingers poised on the mouse.
I’m designing the primary suite for a client using an online program and it’s coming together perfectly.
Various shades of cream with hints of mauve.
A stained-glass window leading to their ensuite bathroom. A big, dramatic lantern pendant light.
They’re going to be thrilled when I send them my vision.
There’s a creak behind me, and a happy tingle runs down my spine, because it’s a reminder that my husband is also working late. Right behind me.
Unable to help myself, I finger the Daddy’s Girl necklace that always lies against my throat and turn to look at him over my shoulder, sighing over how hot he looks today in gray slacks, a black sweater pushed up to his elbows.
Loafers. And I can smell his cologne from my desk, which he insisted be placed right beside his.
In the same corner office. Tight quarters is exactly what it is—and that’s how we like it.
I was the company’s first and only intern through four years of college, even once I married the boss in a beautiful ceremony by a local lake.
Emma was my maid of honor, naturally. We’re best friends.
Although, she still rolls her eyes when Jason and I get too “lovey-dovey” in front of her. We try to keep it to a minimum.
But it’s hard.
Because I love this man more than words can describe. He’s my very breath.
We’re an incredible business team, in addition to being husband and wife.
He does the construction. I design. We’re so highly in demand, we’re getting offers from all over the country.
But we haven’t accepted any of those generous offers yet, because we’d rather be at home as much as possible.
Watching kung fu movies. And occasionally, Secretary.
We decided to wait to start a family until…well, now.
Business is amazing. I graduated from my university with honors.
Maybe I’ll ditch the pill and we’ll start trying tonight.
Jason glances up from his work and catches me staring, leaning back in his leather chair, his gaze running down the length of my spine and darkening.
With a prim chin raise, I go back to clicking away on my screen, though when I hear another, more pronounced creak of his chair, goosebumps tingle to life on my arms. My neck.
What is he going to do to me tonight?
It’s always a mystery. He always keeps me guessing.
Play time always has the same outcome—pleasure. Wondering how we’ll get there never fails to excite me, though, and my panties turn sodden now, my hair follicles sensitizing, my tummy growing heavy and ticklish. Oh, my goodness.
His big hand settles on my shoulder, and I clench between my thighs.
“You did excellent work today,” he says, running his thumb along the curve of my neck. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you looked very pretty while doing it.”
I struggle to sound remotely normal when my hormones are fizzing and snapping with anticipation. “Thank you, sir.”
Slowly, he releases my hair from its ponytail.
He runs his fingers through it for long moments, every so often brushing my sensitized neck. I can feel the heat of his body behind me. Looming. I picture him looking down at me, watching my pulse flutter erratically.
Listening to my breath.
Observing my nipples where they pout with more and more definition against the front of my snug white blouse.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I breathe in and out, grasping for control of my heart rate, but there’s none to be found.
It’s not lost on me that I’ve come full circle, finding myself in the same setting as Secretary.
Hungering for my boss. Hungering for the awakening that only he can give me.
Looking down at my lap, I swallow. “No, you don’t make me uncomfortable. ”
He hums in his throat. “Do you like being touched by your boss?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He winds my loose hair around his fist and slowly tilts my head back, so I’m looking up into his shadowed face. Not so shadowed that I can’t see the desire tightening the edges of his mouth. His jaw. “How much do you like it, little girl?”
I’m going to melt or explode. I don’t know which. “Very much, sir.”
For long moments, he simply breathes in and out, his gaze singeing me everywhere it touches. And it touches me everywhere. “Unbutton your blouse for me.”
My fingers do his bidding, freeing three buttons, four.
He’s still got my hair wound around his fist. Now he tightens his grip, forcing me to arch my back, the position spreading my unbuttoned blouse wider, my breasts straining in the pink lacy cups of my bra.
“She’s extremely pretty and she likes to be touched by her boss,” Jason says, his breathing shallow.
“Maybe it’s time we discussed a raise.” He keeps his right hand wrapped around my hair, then slides his left one down the front of my shirt, pushing aside the cups of my bra and stroking my bare nipples with a teasing touch. “What are you willing to do for it?”
“Anything,” I whisper fervently.
He bites back a groan, molding my breast in his hand. “Is that so?”
I nod obediently.
“Would you fuck for it, little girl?”
A rush of wetness glides through my flesh, and I whimper, pressing my knees together. “Yes, sir.”
“Mmmm.” His hand leaves my breast and travels upward to his zipper, which he yanks down, material rasping around.
Using the grip of his right hand on my hair, he turns my head to receive his cock in my mouth, groaning when I welcome him with a wet, greedy pull.
A stroke of my tongue along with sensitive vein that runs beneath him.
Then deep. So deep. Pull, pull, pull. “Look at me while you suck it. Oh, God. That’s a good girl. ”
I flutter my eyelashes at him.
He tenses. Shudders.
A few salty drops coast down my throat.
“There you go, angel. Drink your pre-come.” He swipes sweat from his brow and pulls out, visibly trying to gather his wits. “I want you buck naked on my desk in one minute,” he says raggedly. “Those legs better be spread.”
“Yes, sir.”
Vibrating with excitement, I allow him to draw me to my feet by the fistful of hair.
Once I’m released, I remove my shirt, my bra.
Watching his expression in the office window, I unzip my short leather skirt, letting it slither down my legs.
Finally, I hinge forward slowly and slip my black thong down to my ankles, soliciting a dark groan from my husband.
My boss. The man in charge but also have wrapped around my pinkie finger.
“Leave on the heels.”
“Yes, sir.”
I perch on the very edge of his desk, facing his chair, and lean back, arching seductively so my breasts point toward the ceiling, ready to earn my raise.
Ready to do anything for this man who loves me so perfectly.
Who cherishes me enough to step into this role of my Daddy, my dominant, so I can feel alive. Praised. Lusted after. Safe.
Loved.
Oh, my goodness, there’s so much love. It’s in his face when he approaches me now, his erection trapped in his huge, steady hand. It drips on the hardwood floor, thickening when he sees how wet I am. How dutifully I’ve spread my legs for my boss.
He crowds in between my thighs, his lips brushing left to right against mine, dragging the smooth tip of his erection through my dampness. “The harder I fuck, the bigger the raise,” he rasps, poising himself at my entrance. “How hard can you stand it?”
I sob in fear. “H-hard. I th-think.”
He bites back a heaving groan, as if the anticipation alone will break him, and then he’s filling me with a brutal pump.
I whine and squirm, as if it hurts, instead of feeling utterly glorious and gratifying and fulfilling.
But despite my discomforted act, he bares his teeth in an animal grimace and ruts me, one bone-rattling thrust at a time, a full three seconds passing between each violent drive, my body shocked with trembles, mouth gasping for oxygen, every time I receive one.
“What a perfect little intern you are,” he grunts, razing his teeth up my ear. “I could come already, you’re so fucking tight.”
I brace for another thrust, crying out when he hits me with it, my left high heel falling off and hitting the floor.
The desk rocking, our wedding picture toppling onto its side.
I’m totally unclothed and he’s merely unzipped his pants.
I’m bared for his pleasure—and he takes it.
Mercilessly. Beginning to hump me faster. Faster.
“When you showed up to work in that little skirt…oh lord. I’ve been rock hard all day, wondering what you’d do if I took you somewhere in secret and kissed you.”
“I’d have kissed you back, Daddy,” I whisper up at him.
“Oh Christ. Christ.” He begins to pant. “I can feel it in my nuts, God help me. How…young you are.”
My sex spasms over the praise. Over the reminder that I am his little girl.
Through and through.
My throat is in his hands now and I’m being manhandled. Bruised and chafed and bitten in ways that might seem alarming to anyone who didn’t understand. Who didn’t know that this is my heaven.
Jason is heaven.
And I see that paradise in his eyes now as my orgasm crashes through, making me scream, my spine arching while hot wave after hot wave of bliss pulls my intimate muscles like marionette strings, my need gushing around him.
Wet slaps and closed mouth shouts echo in the room as Jason follows me into the light, his mouth falling open with the intensity of his climax, the sensation that rushes through us both.
“God, I fucking love you,” he growls, dragging me off the desk into his arms, falling back into his chair.
Holding me so tight, I struggle all the more to catch my breath.
“Do you have any idea how much? Do you?” He rains kisses down on my face and I sigh choppily, overcome, tears dripping down my cheeks in the aftermath of what we’ve done.
But he’s ready for it. Ready to soothe my electrified nerves with his love, because he’s my perfect other half.
“I’m obsessed with you, my wife. Every second of the day is about you.
Every bite of food I take, I just want to know what it would taste like in your sweet mouth.
Every step I take, I know it would be better if I was carrying you. My angel. My angel. I adore you.”
“I love you. I love you.” I scramble to face him, straddling his hips. Snuggling into him and hiccuping like a baby while he rocks me. “I love you so much, I can’t breathe sometimes.”
He guides my mouth to his, fusing them together. Hard.
Inhaling and exhaling. Our version of CPR. His love, his essence floods my lungs, the way he’s flooded my heart.
“Then I’ll breathe for you, angel,” he whispers.
Wrapping me in his jacket, he carries me to the truck and takes me home.
THE END