Chapter 3 #2
Midway through, Alex gently turned me onto my side, pulling my back flush against his chest in a spooning embrace.
His arm wrapped around me, one hand cupping my bouncing breast, kneading the soft mound while his fingers toyed with my nipple.
The other hand reached around to press and circle my clit in time with his thrusts.
His cock continued its slow, powerful invasion into my tight channel from behind, the new angle hitting even deeper, brushing against places that made stars burst in my vision.
I could feel his heartbeat against my back, his ragged breaths hot on my neck as he kissed and nipped there.
"God, you feel incredible," he groaned, his voice rough with restraint. "So tight, so perfect."
I moaned in response, pushing back against him, chasing the building ecstasy. The position allowed for closeness, his body enveloping mine completely, every inch of skin touching. His hand on my clit never faltered, driving me higher until I was whimpering, teetering once more on the brink.
Sensing my urgency, Alex shifted again. He sat up against the headboard, guiding me to straddle his lap facing him.
I braced my hands on his broad chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palms. Rising on my knees, I sank down onto his thick length, taking him fully in one smooth motion.
A shared gasp escaped us both. I began to ride him, rising and falling with increasing fervor while he thrust upward from below, powerful and precise.
His hands cradled my breasts, thumbs flicking my nipples as his mouth captured one, then the other, sucking and licking with fervent hunger.
Our foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.
The pace quickened naturally, bodies slapping together rhythmically.
I ground my hips in circles on the downstroke, feeling him rub against every sensitive nerve inside me.
His groans grew deeper, hands gripping my waist to guide my movements.
Pleasure mounted like a tidal wave, crashing through me in ripples that tightened my core around him.
Finally, Alex eased me back down onto the bed, face-to-face beneath him once more.
Our eyes locked, bodies aligned perfectly.
In the final sprint, he laced his fingers through mine, pinning my hands gently but firmly against the mattress above my head.
His thrusts grew harder, faster, yet still infused with that underlying tenderness.
Each powerful drive sent waves of bliss radiating through me.
His breathing was low and ragged, muscles straining as he chased release alongside mine.
I came first, the orgasm ripping through me like lightning—my walls pulsing violently around his cock, thighs shaking, a cry tearing from my lips as stars exploded behind my eyes.
The intensity pulled him over the edge moments later.
With a guttural groan that vibrated through his chest, Alex drove deep one last time, burying himself to the root.
He spilled hot and thick inside me, pulse after pulse of warmth flooding my depths, marking me as his in the most primal way.
We stayed locked together for long moments afterward, bodies entwined, sweat mingling softly on our skin.
We whispered sweet nothings in the darkness, hands tracing lazy patterns on each other's skin, savoring the intimacy that went far beyond the physical.
"Ma'am, your posture directly represents this family's image." Margaret looked at me critically.
"Ma'am, your back isn't straight enough. And regarding next week's tea party etiquette, the angle of your fingers holding the teacup is incorrect. It looks low-class. Remember, your every word and action reflects on Walker Corporation. I trust you won't embarrass Mr. Walker in public."
My fingers trembled from holding the same position too long. The tea in my cup rippled, and a few scalding drops splashed onto the back of my hand. I flinched instinctively, but Margaret just watched coldly, not even raising an eyebrow.
"Margaret," I said, looking at the red marks on my hand, finally unable to hold back, "I'm the lady of this house. How I drink tea is my own business. It doesn't affect Alex's reputation."
Margaret's expression didn't change. She simply lowered her head slightly, looking down at me with cool superiority.
"Ma'am, I raised Mr. Walker. In this estate, the rules have existed far longer than the title 'lady of the house.' If you feel my instruction offends you, you're welcome to suggest my dismissal to Mr. Walker directly. If he agrees, I'll leave immediately."
Her words choked off all my anger.
Margaret had served the Walker family for thirty years. She'd raised Alex herself. Because of that history, she'd never seen me—this low-status, rootless "new Mrs."—as anything worth respecting. If I complained to Alex now, he'd probably just think I was petty and immature.
I had no choice but to grit my teeth, swallow my humiliation, and pick up the now-cold tea again.
Life after marriage wasn't the happiness I'd imagined. Instead, it became a gilded cage.
Three weeks in, Alex was constantly "working late at headquarters" or "pushing a new project," staying out all night. That massive master bedroom was usually just me, alone.
I stared at my phone every day, drafting and redrafting messages, sending one caring text after another.
"Alex, busy today? Don't forget to eat."
"It's getting cold in New York tonight. Dress warm."
But those messages were met with silence. The only replies I ever got were cold, impersonal responses from his secretary.
"Mr. Walker is in a meeting and cannot respond."
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. I grabbed it like a lifeline, ignoring Margaret's disapproving look.
Lia's name flashed on the screen.
"Margaret, I need to take this." I stood quickly, escaping that suffocating room.
I hit answer. Before I could speak, Lia's vibrant voice burst through.
"Hey! Isadora! Are you too busy being Mrs. Walker to remember me now? You just replied to last week's message... wait. Isadora? What's wrong?"
The moment I heard her familiar voice, all my pretense crumbled. Tears streamed down my face as I poured out three weeks of misery—the housekeeper's cruelty, Alex's coldness, his constant absence.
"What? That old hag is treating you like that?" Lia shouted on the other end. "Isadora, you're the lady of the Walker house! You can't keep being such a doormat!"
"But Alex is always at work. He never comes home. I can't even see him..." I choked out.
Lia went quiet for a moment, then laughed mischievously.
"If Alex is so busy working, go to him! Men under work stress need tenderness most. Pick out your sexiest lingerie, bring some homemade treats to his office—you might even get some hot office action out of it!"
My face flushed. Lia was still so bold.
But she was right. Maybe I'd been too passive. Maybe I needed to be more proactive in showing I cared.
So the next afternoon, I baked delicate pastries and packed them in an insulated container. I changed into a fitted French dress, my heart fluttering with nervous, secret anticipation, and headed to Walker Corporation headquarters.
I wanted to surprise him.