Chapter 18 - Menlow
Kirsten hasn’t said a word since we left the bar.
She’s sitting in the passenger seat with her arms crossed, staring out the window at the city lights rushing past. I can practically see the gears turning in her head. The mortification. The anger.
It’s adorable.
“You’re quiet,” I comment.
She whips her head toward me. “Are you serious right now? You just told my entire team that we’re married. After I gave that ridiculous speech defending you like some kind of lovesick idiot.”
“I thought it was sweet.”
She narrows her eyes. “How do you even know what I said? You were on the other side of the bar.”
“I moved closer when I saw Tanya staring at me like I was on a menu. I wanted to know what she was saying.” I smirk. “Got a lot more than I bargained for.”
“Oh, God.” She presses her palms against her cheeks. “You heard all of it?”
“Every word.” I glance at her and smile wider. “Very thorough defense.”
“It was humiliating,” she complains.
“It was honest. Everything you said about me was true. I did build an empire. I do treat my employees well. I do protect the people I love.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is that now everyone knows. Everyone.” She drops her head back against the headrest and groans. “By Monday morning, the entire company will be talking about us. They’ll think I slept my way into that promotion. They’ll think I’m only there because I’m screwing the boss.”
“You are screwing the boss.”
“Menlow!”
I can’t help it. I laugh. The sound fills the car, and Kirsten looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“This isn’t funny,” she snaps.
“It’s a little funny.”
“No, it’s not. My professional reputation is going to be destroyed. Everything I worked for, everything I earned—”
“Is still yours,” I interrupt. “Nothing about your work has changed, Kirsten. You’re still brilliant. You’re still the one who caught that liability cap error. You’re still the reason the Shyman deal went through.”
“But that’s not what people will see. They’ll see the boss’s wife, who got special treatment.”
I pull the car to a stop at a red light and turn to face her. “Do you really think I’d let anyone disrespect you like that?”
She blinks. “What?”
“If anyone so much as implies that you didn’t earn your position, I’ll make them regret it. You have my word.”
“You can’t just threaten everyone who—”
“Watch me.”
The light turns green, and I press the accelerator and continue driving, but I can feel her watching me, trying to figure out if I’m serious.
I am. Deadly serious.
“Why did you do it?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “Why tell them tonight?”
“Because I’m tired of hiding you.”
“Hiding me?”
“You’re my wife, Kirsten. And for weeks now, I’ve had to pretend like you’re just another employee. Like you don’t matter to me and I don’t want to walk into every meeting with you on my arm and make damn sure everyone knows you’re mine.”
She’s quiet for a moment. I can hear her breathing.
“That’s very possessive of you,” she notes.
“I’m a possessive man. You knew that when you married me.”
“I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.”
“No. You didn’t.” I glance at her again. “Do you regret it?”
The question fills the space between us. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
But then she shakes her head slowly. “No. I don’t.”
Something hot coils in my gut. I grip the steering wheel tighter.
“Say that again.”
“I don’t regret it.” Her voice drops lower. “I don’t regret any of it.”
The coil tightens. I know I should keep driving. Get her home. Let her work through everything that happened tonight in peace.
Instead, I make a turn.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Office.”
“The office? Why?”
I don’t answer. I just drive faster.
The building is dark when we arrive. The security guard waves us through without question. I park in my reserved spot and cut the engine, then turn to look at her.
She’s watching me with those dark eyes, wary but curious, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking but wants to hear me say it anyway.
“We have a perfectly good apartment twenty minutes from here,” she points out.
“Twenty minutes is too long.”
I’m out of the car before she can respond. I circle around to her side and pull open the door, then take her hand and lead her toward the elevator. She stumbles a little in her heels but keeps up.
The elevator doors close behind us. I press the button for our floor, then turn to face her.
“Menlow—”
I cut her off with a kiss, pressing her back against the elevator wall. She gasps against my mouth, and I swallow the sound, drinking her in like I’ve been dying of thirst.
The elevator dings. I pull back just long enough to grab her hand again and lead her down the darkened hallway to our office. The door unlocks with a beep of my keycard, and then we’re inside. I lock it behind us.
The city glows through the windows, illuminating everything in shades of silver and blue. Kirsten stands in the middle of the room with her chest heaving and her lips swollen from my kiss.
“This is insane,” she breathes.
“Probably.”
“Anyone could walk in.”
“Door’s locked.”
“The security cameras—”
“Don’t cover this office. I made sure of it.” I move toward her slowly. “Any other objections?”
She swallows. “We shouldn’t.”
“That’s not an objection. That’s a suggestion.” I stop in front of her, close enough to touch but not touching. Not yet. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll go home right now.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
“That’s what I thought.”
I close the distance and claim her mouth. There’s nothing gentle about it this time. I kiss her like I own her. Because I do. She’s mine. Every inch of her.
I run my hands over her body, memorizing the curves I’ve been dreaming about. The swell of her hips. The dip of her waist. The softness of her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. She moans into my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
I spin her around and press her against my desk. She braces herself on the surface, and I lean over her, dragging my mouth along the curve of her neck. I kiss and suck and bite while I work the zipper at the back of her dress.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” I growl against her ear. “Bending you over this desk. Making you scream my name where anyone could hear.”
She shivers beneath me. “We work here.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so fucking hot.”
The zipper gives way. I peel the dress down her shoulders, down her arms, until it pools at her feet. She’s wearing a black lace bra and matching panties. I take a step back just to look at her.
“Turn around.”
She obeys, turning to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing is ragged. Standing there in nothing but lace, framed by the city lights, she’s the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“I see the smartest woman in every room she walks into. I see someone who caught an error that would have cost this company millions. I see my wife.” I step closer and trace my finger along the edge of her bra. “And I see someone who’s about to come apart on my desk.”
“Is that an order, Mr. Karpov?”
The use of my title sends a jolt of heat through me. “It’s a promise, Mrs. Karpov.”
I unhook her bra and toss it aside, then cup her breasts, running my thumbs over her nipples until they peak. She arches into my touch as a moan slips past her lips.
“Menlow, please.”
“Please what? Use your words. Tell your boss what you need.”
Her eyes flash with something dark and hungry. “I need you to stop teasing me.”
“Not a chance.” I pinch one nipple, and she gasps. “I’m going to take my time with you. I’m going to make you beg.”
I lower my mouth to her breast and draw the nipple between my lips. I suck and swirl my tongue while I give the other the same attention with my fingers, pinching and rolling until she’s squirming against the desk.
“God, yes,” she breathes. “More.”
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and drag them down her legs. She kicks them off, and I drop to my knees in front of her.
“Sit on the desk,” I command.
She hoists herself up, and I spread her thighs, positioning myself between them. She’s pink and glistening and ready for me.
“Look at you,” I mumble. “So wet already. Is this what defending my honor does to you?”
“Shut up and touch me.”
“Demanding.” I press a kiss to her inner thigh. “I like it.”
I slide one finger inside her, and she clenches around me. So tight. So responsive. I add a second finger and start to pump, curling them to hit the spot that makes her cry out.
“Right there,” she gasps. “Don’t stop.”
I work her with my fingers while I lower my mouth to her clit. I lick and suck in steady strokes, building her higher with each pass of my tongue. She grabs the edge of the desk, her knuckles going white, her head thrown back.
“Look at me,” I order against her flesh. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
She forces her eyes open and locks them with mine. I hold her gaze as I drive her toward the edge with my fingers pumping and my tongue circling. I watch the pleasure build in her face, watch her climb higher and higher until she shatters.
Her whole body convulses as she comes, and her inner walls gripping my fingers as my name tears from her throat. The sound echoes off the walls of the office. Anyone walking by would hear. The thought makes me even harder.
I work her through every last tremor, then withdraw my fingers and bring them to my lips. She watches me taste her, and something shifts in her gaze.
“Your turn,” she says.
Before I can react, she slides off the desk and drops to her knees in front of me.
The sight of her there—on her knees in my office, looking up at me with those dark eyes—nearly undoes me right there.
“Kirsten—”
“You’ve had your fun, Mr. Karpov.” She reaches for my belt. “Now I’m going to have mine.”
She unbuckles my belt with sure fingers and unzips my pants. I spring free, and she wraps her hand around me, stroking once from base to tip.
“Fuck,” I grind out.
She smiles up at me, wicked and triumphant. “What’s wrong? Is the big bad CEO losing his composure?”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe I like the heat.”
She leans forward and runs her tongue along the underside of my cock, tracing the vein from root to tip. I grab the edge of the desk behind me to steady myself. She swirls her tongue around the head, lapping at the moisture gathered there, and then takes me into her mouth.
I groan as her lips stretch around me. Her mouth is hot and wet and perfect. She takes me deeper, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks, and I have to fight the urge to thrust.
“That’s it,” I rasp. “Just like that. Take all of me.”
She bobs her head, setting a rhythm that has my vision going hazy at the edges. I thread my fingers through her hair, not guiding, just holding on. Grounding myself.
She looks up at me as she works, maintaining eye contact, and the sight is almost too much. This brilliant, capable woman on her knees for me. In my office. Where I sit in meetings and make decisions that affect thousands of people. And here she is, worshipping my cock.
“You look so good like this,” I tell her. “On your knees for me. Taking me so well.”
She moans around my length, and the vibration sends sparks up my spine. I’m not going to last much longer. Not with her looking at me like that. Not with her mouth doing things that should be illegal.
“Kirsten.” My voice comes out strained. “I’m close.”
She doesn’t pull back. If anything, she takes me deeper, stroking what she can’t reach with her hand while her tongue does wicked things that make my brain short-circuit.
“I’m going to—”
She sucks harder, and I’m done. I come with a groan that echoes through the office, spilling into her mouth. She takes everything I give her, swallowing around me, milking every last drop.
When she finally releases me, she sits back on her heels and wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Smug. Satisfied. Like she just won a negotiation.
“Well,” she starts. “That was—”
I haul her to her feet and kiss her hard, tasting myself on her lips. Then I spin her around, bend her over the desk, and thrust inside her from behind.
She cries out, bracing herself on the surface. I set a punishing pace, driving into her over and over.
“You’re mine,” I growl against her ear. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Menlow. Only yours.”
I reach around and stroke her clit in time with my thrusts. She’s still sensitive from before, and it doesn’t take long before she’s climbing again.
“Come with me,” I command.
We shatter together as her walls clench around me while I spill inside her. The pleasure crashes through me in waves, leaving me breathless.
We stay like that for a long moment, bent over the desk, catching our breath. Finally, I pull out and help her straighten up, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
I swear to God, this woman is going to be the death of me.
***
On Monday morning, I call an all-hands meeting. The conference room fills quickly. It seems everyone is curious about the unexpected summons. Kirsten sits near the back, trying to be inconspicuous. It doesn’t work.
“I’ll keep this brief,” I begin. “Most of you have probably heard by now that Kirsten Berry and I are married. The rumors are true.”
Whispers ripple through the room.
“What you may not know,” I continue, letting my voice harden, “is that Kirsten earned her position through merit alone. Her promotion happened before our marriage became public knowledge, and it was based entirely on her performance, her intelligence, and her contributions to this team.”
I sweep my gaze across the room, meeting every pair of eyes.
“If I hear anyone suggesting otherwise—if I hear so much as a whisper implying that my wife received special treatment—that person will answer to me directly. Is that understood?”
The room is silent. Everyone nods.
“Good.” I straighten my tie. “Get back to work.”