I try to tell myself it’s sleeplessness as we cross the double staircase and head down to the smaller rear staircase, the one that leads to Lucky’s favorite place in the house, his doggy room.
I try to tell myself I’ve worked too hard and my hazy mind is throwing up impossible ridiculous scenarios, but when I feel her walking close behind me on the staircase, her breathing soft and tempting, I know that’s bullshit.
It takes everything I have not to spin on her and bend her over the stairs, driving my stiff manhood between those thick luscious thighs as I work that hot precious spot between her legs, rubbing harder and firmer as each moment passes, listening as her shy moans turn hungry as she can’t fight it anymore.
My balls feel like metal weights in my pants, dragging me down, roaring at me to claim her and claim her right fucking now.
I’ve never felt lust like this before.
Even calling it lust seems absurd, a twisted version of this feeling moving through me.
It’s more like all the pieces of my life are clicking into place, like I’ve been waiting for this… for this angel to appear in my office with her fuck-me body and her marry-me eyes, with her curves declaring how fit she is to give me the family I never knew I wanted before we met.
She bumps into my back when I stop outside the door, giving me a tantalizing preview of the softness of her breasts, pushed up against the broad firmness of my back muscles.
“Oh, sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to…”
I turn and stare down at her, sinking into the vulnerability of her expression, the way she tilts her head up at me with her lips pursed like she’s waiting for me to grab her by the shoulders and push her up against the wall, bringing my mouth to hers in a hot burning moment of closeness, trailing my hand up her thigh so I can feel all the different ways she shivers and quakes for me.
“He likes me to call for him before I walk in,” I say, my breath raspy as her scent floods up and over me, draping every inch of me, seeping through my skin like her womb is sending me signals.
The thought should make me laugh.
Her womb sending me signals?
And yet that’s how it feels as we stand pressed close together, her breasts still brushing my stomach. Her thick juicy body, crammed into that crisp white shirt and her hip-hugging pencil skirt almost drive me feral.
I have to clench my jaw just to stop from roaring.
Fuck…
To tear at the collar of her shirt so the buttons pop and fly away, giving me a greedy look at her bountiful breasts, the sort of breasts a man could bury his hands in, groaning as they disappear into her luscious voluptuousness.
“Is everything okay?” she murmurs.
I glance toward the staircase, down the hallway. My house is large and we’re completely alone as we stand here, our bodies getting hotter by the moment, as though she can sense how close I am to devouring her.
“Yes,” I growl, aware I sound angry.
Anger is the lie I have to clothe myself with so I don’t let anything slip, how badly I need her.
I can’t tell her, can I?
But why the fuck not?
She’s mine. She belongs to me. The thought of any other man touching her, claiming her… it makes me want to wring their goddamn neck, hurt them in ways I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone.
To protect what’s mine.
To protect who’s mine.
“Okay…”
She trails off with a cute laugh and a little shrug, her blush appearing on her cheeks again. She doesn’t wear any makeup, instead leaving her natural beauty to flush her skin red, pink, making me think of how other parts of her will change color when I bite and grab and spank her.
It makes me think of her hot needy slit, which I’m sure I can scent, sending me tangy signals in the air.
My cock pulses and I turn with an effort, reaching out for the door handle.
If I’m going to make this woman mine – which makes no sense because she already is mine – I’m going to need to try and be subtle.
If I told her about all these thoughts raging through me, she’d run a mile. It would be the smart thing to do, to wait.
None of this makes sense.
And yet I feel it, bone-deep, we are meant to be, with more certainty than I’ve ever felt anything.
There’s part of me that wonders if she feels this same sudden connection. If she’d collapse against me, melting into the shimmering closeness that I feel a deep need for already, even if it’s only been a few… what?
A few minutes?
How the fuck can I feel so strongly about her, so certain, when not even half an hour has passed?