Britt nibbled along her neck, and she gripped his hands, clung to them. “I love you, Britt.”
“And I, you,” he murmured. “I’d much rather have a go than go workout. What do you say?”
Yoga might help her chances of conceiving, but sex gave her better odds. “Yogi can reschedule.”
He lifted her into his arms and headed out of her office.
“Oh my God! Let me walk. Someone’ll see.” She wriggled, trying to get down.
“Nobody comes down this end of the hall.” He climbed the few stairs to their apartment. “It’s a bloody sex resort we own and live at, in any case. Get the numbers for me, love.”
She shook her head and keyed in their code on the number pad. True, the employees all knew they were married, but she had a hard time letting go of that tough professional exterior and behaving affectionately toward Britt in front of them.
“Morty!” Britt bellowed down the hall. “Ring downstairs and let Yogi know Victoria’ll be along later for her yoga?”
“Straightaway,” Morty called back.
Inside the apartment, their dog Jake snuffed at her dangling feet. “Hi, Jake. Britt. He needs to go outside. Why don’t you do that, and I’ll–”
“Oh no. You won’t. I’ve already taken him out.” He deposited her in a sitting position on the couch and commenced removing her blouse, then her bra. In far less time than it’d take her, he removed all the pins from her hair and let it down. It sprang out in all directions, in undisciplined, poufy curls. He took one step back and ogled her like this was their first time. “Be a love and stretch your arms over your head like you did at your desk.”
She complied. The results weren’t bad–her breasts jutted forward. Under his stare, her nipples hardened and extended.
With a growl, he knelt on the floor in front of her and covered the right one with his mouth. Hot and silky, his tongue loved her nipple while one big hand kneaded her other breast, and he wrapped his free arm around her back, holding her tight.
She dug her fingers through his hair. God, she needed him. Even after thousands of times, she still needed him. Heat rushed through her body and she clenched her legs together, savoring the friction of movement in her panty.
With a small nip, he released her breast and kissed her mouth. Long, deep, full of want and promise. She could always count on it like this between them. Hot, yet full of as much feeling as need. She could kiss him like this for hours. Or…
Her hand slid down to grope his crotch. “Hey. Get your pants off.”
He smiled and that right dimple came out, which she thumbed while he unbuckled his belt and pushed the slacks, then boxers, away.
She gave him a gentle shove back. “Have a seat. Now be a love and stretch your arms over your head.” Surveying the results, she shook her head. “Sorry, no. Not the same when you’ve got your shirt on. But it’ll have to do.” The end of his dress shirt covered those abs she knew he worked so hard for. She knelt in front of him and pushed the shirt up.
As he began unbuttoning, she dragged her fingernails down both sides of his stomach, past his navel. On toward the dark thatch of hair. He sat stone-still, watching. Trying to make him squirm was her favorite game, and normally she’d keep teasing until she won. But today she wanted him faster than that. Today she wanted to taste him. Now.
Warm…firm… The size of his cock still sometimes surprised her. She tongued his crown, tasted the salty precum, hummed her appreciation.
“Vic. Ah, Christ.” Britt moaned, and his thighs clenched under her hands.
She took more of him in her mouth as he burrowed his fingers into her hair and clasped her head. He was so into it, and obviously close. She bobbed up and down, opening to take as much of him as she could, loving the taste, the feel, the power. His balls were heavy in her hands, one a little tighter than the other. Easing her mouth off his cock, she shed her skirt and thong, leaving only the stockings he’d asked her to buy.
He eyed her. “You could finish me off if you’d a mind to, love.”
Poor guy wanted her to swallow. She nodded. “I could.” He’d been very close. Like sixty-seconds close. “But that would be such a waste of perfectly good swimmers, no?” She straddled him and he sighed. By the time she had him inside her, he didn’t seem to miss the blow job any more. He filled her completely, and she whimpered with joy, eased down him a bit more. His hands held her breasts, provided a little push as she pulsed up and down.
“Touch yourself, love,” he begged.
She slid her fingers down, found her slick clit. So sensitive, it wouldn’t take much–with a shudder, she pressed down on him, saw stars, heard him groan.