Chapter Fifty-Four
Huxley
Inviting warmth. Lovely softness. A sweet scent.
The intoxicating femininity that is my wife slowly seeps into me. Still drowsy with lingering sleep, I wrap my arms around her protectively. My cock is already hard, and her nearness makes it swell further. My hand instinctively closes around a mound that’s grown plumper in pregnancy.
I lay kisses along the back of her neck, the need to make her feel good guiding me. Dr. Silverman cleared Grace for sex yesterday. What kind of husband would I be if I failed to pamper my wife in bed?
The negligent kind. “You awake?” I whisper.
“Uh-uh.” Her reply is somewhere between a mewl and whine.
A teasing smile on her lips, she turns and nestles closer. Her head rests in the crook between my neck and shoulder, a soft purr coming from her throat.
Is that how it is?
Grinning, I knead her breast, dragging the pad of my thumb back and forth across the hardened nipple. Her breathing grows choppy. She arches into my touch like a kitten basking in tender strokes. Love and the need to satisfy her unfurl. She still has her eyes closed, although her eyelids flutter.
“You keep on sleeping and enjoy,” I say, then pull the other nipple into my mouth and suck gently. I don’t mind indulging her when she’s caught somewhere between sleep and desire. It’ll be fun to coax her awake, have her join me in lust.
Her breath catches. She digs her fingers into my hair, holding me against her bosom. She’s so sensitive. I slip a hand between her soft thighs. Her slickness drenches me, making my blood boil.
Her eyes remain closed, as though she hasn’t been fully pulled out of sleep. I move my finger along her soaking folds, teasing the opening of her pussy and swollen clit.
Finally her mouth falls open, expelling a pent-up breath. Her tits tremble, her areolas rosy. She rocks her hips, chasing an orgasm. She’s so beautiful when she’s honest in pleasure. I continue to stroke her, but without increasing the pressure like she wants me to.
I want to hear her say my name. I want her to open her eyes, look at me and beg.
After a few more moments, it happens. “Huxley,” she says with a shaky sigh. She lifts her eyelids. Her passion-glazed gaze meeting mine sends an electric spark down my spine until my cockhead bumps against my taut belly. Her fingers dig into my shoulders. “Please.”
The plea is barely audible, but hearing it snaps my control.
Enough screwing around. I spread her thighs. She inhales sharply, tilts her pelvis. “Yes, yes.” The soft chant is like a siren’s call to my already libido-addled mind.
She reaches for my cock, but I move away. Confusion clouds her gorgeous eyes briefly. Flashing her a wicked grin, I run the flat of my tongue along her wetness.
A cry tears from her throat. She tunnels her fingers into my hair. My mouth closes over her, and I devour her, licking and sucking, using my tongue to torment her. She bucks her hips, shamelessly urging me. Her naked need drives me wild.
She whimpers my name, her voice full of love, trust and need. Her muscles tighten and quiver, the movements of her pelvis jerkier and faster as I plunge two fingers deep inside her and suck on her clit.
She screams my name, her fingers tightening in my hair. I lap her up, easing her down from her peak.
Instead of sighing and sinking into the soft mattress, she sits up and flips me over. With a wicked and determined look in her eye, she straddles me in a reverse cowgirl, giving me a view of her gorgeous ass, then makes her way down.
“Look at this guy,” she purrs, then wraps her hand around my shaft.
Jesus . Her touch is like a lightning strike, making my vision go white. It’s been a while, and I’ve never been more turned on.
I feel her warm breath over the cockhead. Precum flows freely from the tip. All the lava-hot blood in my body seems to pool in my dick.
“Grace…” I whisper. I didn’t wake her up to make me feel good, but I still say her name like a plea.
Soft laughter bubbles from her, full of satisfaction and need. Her hot tongue swipes the tip, and my pelvis jerks.
She pulls the head, piercing and all into her mouth. Another sexy laugh—and the vibration sends hot quivers all over my body. As she slowly moves her mouth along my shaft, I knead her gorgeous ass, then pull her close to me so I can lap her up again.
She moans around my cock, and sharp pleasure races through me. Desperately clinging to control, I shallowly fuck her mouth. I can’t stop my hips from moving—I’m but a man wild for his wife. Her juices drip down her thighs. Feeling her grow wetter with my cock in her mouth makes me nearly lose control. I eat her up, not wanting to miss a drop of her sweetness. She grinds against my mouth, digging her fingers into my thighs. I try to pace us, but it’s impossible with pleasure pounding into me in endless waves.
She convulses first, arching her back as she climaxes. My cock muffles her scream, and I can’t hold on anymore. I come, emptying myself, and breathing like the space between her legs contains the last air on Earth. I can’t remember the last time I came this hard.
Grace is like pliant goo on top of me. Her warm hair pools over my legs. I start to gather her close, wanting to hold her and enjoy the moment.
“That was amazing,” she murmurs as she slips out of my grasp and leaves our bed.
“What are you doing?” I ask with a frown. “It’s barely seven.”
She walks toward the bathroom. “I know. Time to get ready for work. We’re already late.”
“Come back to bed.” I stretch. “I still have two more weeks off.”
“Well, then you can stay home. I’m going in to the office,” she says over a shoulder.
“Wait.” I sit up. “There’s no point to my vacation if you’re going to work!”
“But I thought you were exhausted.” She’s all innocence.
“I’m not exhausted. I took a month off to be with you.” Everyone at the office looked at me like I’d lost my head when I announced my month-long vacation. I’ve never taken so much personal time.
“You mean to hover over me. Don’t think I don’t know.” She slips into the bathroom. I follow, and she starts brushing her teeth.
“I’m not hovering.” I wrap my arms around her from behind and bury my face in her neck. Her scent is stronger in the morning, all sweet and alluring. “How about we stay home and have sex? We can go through every position in Kama Sutra .”
“Nope. I can’t even open the fridge without you acting like I’m about to break my arm.”
“Because you were hurt.” I start to brush my teeth too, since I want to kiss her properly.
“I’m not spending the next two weeks doing nothing but having sex.”
“We’ll eat and sleep too, in between sex.”
Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head, although her mouth twitches with a suppressed laugh. “I’m not made of porcelain. I’m making a speedy recovery. Even Dr. Hamilton was shocked.”
I cast around for some excuse to get her to change her mind. “We haven’t had a honeymoon.”
“Seriously? You just want to spend the next two weeks at home, having sex, and call it a honeymoon?” She presses a hand over her chest. “Be still, my heart.”
That shuts me up. She’s right, damn it. Never argue with your wife without caffeine.
She rinses her mouth. “Let’s compromise. We’ll both go to work, and I’ll stop by your office for a nice lunch. How about that?”
I rinse mine as well. “How about we both don’t go to work, enjoy lots of morning orgasms and then have brunch around eleven? I know a great place.”
Turning toward me, she grows serious. “Huxley, a routine is good for me. Plus, I like my job. It gives me happiness and fulfillment. I don’t think it’s good for me to sit at home all day until the due date. Okay?”
It’s unfair, but when my wife flutters her lashes so prettily, I can’t say no. “Okay. But we are going to have lunch together.”
She beams. “Deal. I’ll pick you up myself.”
* * *
Everyone at work looks at me like a deer in the headlights when I stride out of the elevator.
“Is everything okay? Aren’t you out until the end of the month?” Claude says.
“Yes, but plans change. I have a lunch date, so adjust my schedule accordingly.”
He follows me into my office with the day’s agenda of meetings, marking the ones I should consider attending.
“Make sure the creative meeting at ten is finished by eleven thirty,” I tell him. Then I send a bouquet of pink roses to my wife’s office, the flowers she wanted to have at our wedding but couldn’t because of Madison.
My former secretary still hasn’t found a new job, based on gossip I’ve overheard in the staff breakroom. There are questions as to why she was fired so suddenly. Although I haven’t said a word, everyone suspects it must’ve been something awful, since people know how much I depended on and trusted her. I purposely keep my mouth shut about it, even when headhunters and other executives ask. Whatever they imagine is going to be far worse than the truth. That’s why most of the campaigns we do aren’t overt. They are designed to engage the imagination, lead people’s minds where we want them to go. It’s harder, but much more effective.
My phone buzzes in the middle of the meeting. Since my wife’s texts are the only exception to the “do not disturb” mode—I’m not ever repeating the situation where somebody answers her texts behind my back—I glance at the screen.
–Grace: Thank you! They’re so lovely! :smiling-emoji:
I smile.
–Me: Happy first day back at work.
I turn my attention back to the presentation. “That pink isn’t quite right. You want something lighter and softer, but not overly pastel. A hint of pearlescent, and the music should be at a slightly faster tempo to give it a more energetic feel. Otherwise, it’s too lethargic. I’d fall asleep.”
Chuck takes notes, his pencil scratching the yellow legal pad he carries everywhere.
“Any questions or concerns?” I say.
“Nope.” Chuck and the others shake their heads. They’re in charge of the vodka popsicle campaign. Ah, the fun things we push. They’re too sweet for my taste, but they provide a good kick, perfect for a hot summer day or night when you need a little break.
“Great job, everyone.” I leave the meeting, checking the time. Grace said she’d come to the 4D office, and I want to pick her up and take her to the new French restaurant that opened last month. It’s getting great reviews, which say it has the best chocolate lava cake in the city. It would be hilarious to ask the server to bring it with celery sticks. Whatever expression she makes is going to be cute, I think with a smile.
An elevator opens with a soft chime. Just as I’m about to step in, Nelson jumps out and grabs my arm. “You!”
My face twists with disgust. “What are you doing here?”
A slightly wrinkled suit hangs on his frame. His cheeks have sunken a bit more since the last time I saw him. Dark circles take up half his face, and there are new lines ravaging his forehead and cheeks. “You have to stop them.”
Them?
“Everyone at the firm’s out to get me.”
“The firm. You mean Huxley & Webber—which I’m not a part of.”
“Come on! They’re only after me because of you! They’re trying to force me out.”
I fake a shocked gasp. “And Andreas won’t save you? Or how about your brother Bill? Aren’t you two close?”
Resentment seethes in Nelson’s gaze. “They aren’t doing shit for me. They’re too busy covering their own asses.”
“You mean they won’t shield your immoral behavior.” I shoot him a look full of contempt. “I’ll never forgive you for depriving Grace the opportunity to get the closure she deserved with her mother. Scattering the ashes around Baltimore… What kind of dick does that? No matter how you felt about the woman, she was the mother of your child. She deserved better. So did Grace.”
“Wait, wait! If I give you the urn with her ashes, will you help me?”
“What?”
“Look, Huxley. Son.” He puts his hands on my shoulders with the most paternal expression he can muster. “There’s been a misunderstanding, I’m afraid.”
I arch an eyebrow. This is going to be good.
“Nobody scattered the ashes, oh no. They were merely misplaced , but thankfully found.”
My ass, they were misplaced. “Then why didn’t you and your wife give them to Grace?”
“Well.” Nelson licks his lips. “I thought it might be too distressing for her. I mean… She’s always been a competitive child. She might have felt upset or thought it unfair that she didn’t have a mom when Viv and Mick did. But if you can make my, ah, work issues go away, perhaps we can arrange for the ashes to be transferred to her. I’d hate to deprive her of a chance to properly grieve and say goodbye. Everyone needs closure, after all.”
Does he think I’m stupid? He kept the ashes—assuming they really are Grace’s mother’s ashes, and not something he scooped out of someone’s fireplace—as insurance in case Grace found out the truth and wouldn’t stay quiet. I really should’ve shoved his face into the wall more than twice. “How do I know the ashes are really her mother? It isn’t like we can run a DNA test.”
“A perfectly logical question.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out some paper. “This is proof of the chain of custody for Winona’s ashes. I hired another lawyer to do it, so you know I’m not lying.”
I look it over. Nelson has been very thorough. Guess he was more worried than he let on about Grace’s reaction to her mother’s death. “Why don’t we call it even after you hand me the ashes and ask for forgiveness? That’s the least of what you owe.”
The tension in his face eases for the first time since he exited the elevator. He thinks the deal is done. “Must we assign blame and fault? We are family.”
“I’m afraid Catalina won’t back down without an apology. And you know how my mother is.”
His expression sours before he catches himself. “Fine. Then I’m—”
“I’d like the ashes first. It’s been a year.”
“Of course. The urn is in my trunk.”
I gesture for Claude to approach, then turn back to Nelson. “Can you give your fob to my assistant so he can bring it up?” I’m not budging on this. If I don’t act now, Nelson will find a way to avoid giving me the ashes because he knows giving them up means giving up any final hold he has over Grace.
“It’s a black Lexus.” He rattles off the plate number. “Underground parking level two.”
“Got it.” Claude leaves.
“So. How about you make that call to your mother?”
“My assistant isn’t back yet.”
Nelson clears his throat. “Could we move to your office? Have some coffee, perhaps?”
You expect me to serve you coffee? “I need to go out soon.”
Nelson rolls his weight on the balls of his feet as we wait, shifting back and forth to burn off nervous energy. His eyes scan the office, but my employees are too discreet to stare blatantly. They’ll gossip afterward in the breakroom.
An elevator door opens. Grace steps out, followed by Claude, who is holding a huge white urn. She’s wearing a brilliant smile, which fades when she spots her father.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“What are you doing here?” he says, stiffening.
“I’m here to have lunch with my husband.” She comes over, loops her arm around mine and gives me a kiss, which I return with a grin.
“You got it?” I ask Claude, since he seems to be struggling a bit. The kid has a pencil neck and even thinner arms.
“Yup.” He huffs. “This thing is heavy .”
Grace looks at him with mild curiosity.
“My new assistant, Claude. Claude, my wife Grace.”
“Hello.” His greeting is polite and friendly. “Nice to meet you.”
She smiles warmly. “Likewise. I’d offer to shake hands, but yours seem occupied.”
“Please put that in my office,” I say to Claude, who disappears.
“Now. What about that phone call?” Nelson says.
“I haven’t heard an apology yet.”
Nelson’s face twists. His pride won’t let him admit he’s in the wrong.
“A sincere mea culpa isn’t such a high price to pay for keeping a partnership at Huxley & Webber,” I point out.
“No,” he agrees reluctantly. “Look, Grace. I’m sorry for all the misunderstanding—”
“On your knees,” I say.
“What?” Red suffuses his cheeks.
“How can it be sincere if you just say some meaningless words about misunderstandings? Would you accept my apology if I took my sweet time calling my mother and just referred to it as a ‘misunderstanding’?”
His face reddens even more.
“Surely making everything go away is worth a knee…” I shrug.
He glares at me before quickly dropping his eyes. He knows who’s in the driver’s seat. “Fine.”
But he takes his time, going down as slowly as possible. Probably praying I’ll stop him before his knee touches the floor, saying I was only kidding—just testing him.
But I don’t have all day. I go around and kick him behind his knee, making him drop to his hands and knees in one undignified flop.
Grace jumps with a gasp. And discretion in the office evaporates as my employees crane their necks to look.
“Ung! What the hell!” Before Nelson can get to his feet, I put a foot on his back and lean my weight into it. He squeals like a pig.
“Finally in the proper position.” I sigh with satisfaction. “Now. Apologize.”
“I can’t do that with you behind me!” he protests.
“More like on top of you, but yes, you can. You owe my wife an apology.”
“She’s my daughter! I don’t owe her shit. You can’t make me humble myself to my own child!” His voice rings in the office. He turns to my wife. “What’s wrong with you that you’re just standing there? I gave you everything, Grace. All I wanted was my dignity!”
Grace shakes her head. “And your money, your reputation and to show favoritism to your other children. I already told you, Nelson. You’re dead to me.”
“Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you hating me. She would’ve wanted you to rise above that.”
“What the hell kind of apology is this?” I don’t want to hear these ridiculous arguments. And Grace certainly doesn’t need to suffer through this garbage. I put more pressure on his back, but he’s undeterred.
He continues, “She would’ve wanted you to forgive—”
“Don’t you dare talk about her!” Grace cuts him off. “You aren’t worthy. And for the record, I don’t hate you. I don’t care about you at all. You’re about as significant to me as moldy bread. Disappointing that you couldn’t be better, but no big loss, either.”
“I’m your family! Me, Karie, Mick and Viv—”
“No.” She reaches out and takes my hand. “My family is right here.”