A Fragile Wife - Page 6

Or so she told herself for years. As of late, as many calls to her cousin and lawyer could attest, she second-guessed everything about her marriage. There was going through the motions, and then there was trying to improve things. She didn’t have the energy for either at the moment.

When Ken flipped the folders shut, she let out a sigh of relief. When he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the top drawer to deposit it for safe and confidential keeping, Lana ran her fingers through his thick head of hair and asked him why he didn’t put the folders in the second drawer, since this one looked stuffed full of business crap.

“I’ve got other things for safekeeping in there.”

“Oh? What?”

Ken slammed the drawer shut and locked it. “Nothing that would interest you.”

What?

Her husband leaned back in his chair, pulling his electronic cigarette from his front pocket. Lana moved away before she inhaled whatever scent he puffed on tonight. I suppose it’s better than cigars. Maybe that’s what he kept hidden in the second drawer. That’s going to drive me crazy now. She and Ken did not keep secrets. When people asked them how their relationship remained so seemingly strong, that was her answer. “No secrets. We tell each other everything. I know where all of his things are, and he knows mine.” Apparently it was bullshit.

Knowing there might be something between them made Lana do certain things. Like try to futilely get into her husband’s good graces, even if she was already in them. The mind didn’t always know that.

“My husband is so weary.” She leaned against his desk, loosening the sash of her robe and opening it enough to show him how naked she was beneath. “He should lie back in his chair to enjoy his cigarette.”

Her eyes bore into his. Determined, almost spiteful. Ken was the only man who would not flinch under such a gaze. He held it with his own, pushing back in his chair and taking the first drag of his relaxing smoke. Cherries. It would be cherries.

“And my wife should do many things.”

Lana pulled open the top of her robe, exposing her hardened nipples to the warm air of her husband’s office. It turned on the part of her brain that told her to serve him.

There were women who lived that life. Every day, their Doms and Masters came home, expecting to be waited on, to be served. The women got off on it. Everyone in the situation got off on it. Lana was not one of those women. When she chose to serve her husband – for he was the only person in the world she would serve – it was with nothing but love. Foolhardy love, perhaps, but love nonetheless.

She thought she felt love inside her as she eased down onto her knees and ran the palm of her hand over his stiffening cock. His pants obscured it, but Lana knew which lines to look for. It also helped that her touch hardened him enough to make him groan on his cigarette.

“Tell me what you like,” Ken grumbled on his device. “Know your place, but tell me what you like.”

“Yes, sir.” Lana unzipped him, letting her fingers dance over the soft cotton of his briefs before finding the skin of his cock. She had felt and seen this thing a million times in her life, but now, more than usual, she had to make Ken think it was as good as the first time.

She also had to give herself completely over to the headspace of servitude. She wasn’t just Ken’s wife. She was his trophy. The hot, sharp woman he plucked from some promising company and made his. The first time they had sex, he slammed her into the bed and drove himself into her so hard that tears fell from her eyes. Not tears of pain or fear. Tears of relief that she had finally found a man who could satiate her hunger more than the usual.

To many, Ken was an average man by himself. He was handsome, but didn’t stand out in a room of other handsome men, especially since he fell on the shorter side and didn’t do much with his look. He was sharp, smart, and witty, but kept to himself unless otherwise provoked or if with very close friends. Even his cock was average. Lana certainly had much bigger in her days. The difference? Men with big cocks had a tendency to rely solely on that. They knew they could get away with women being amazed with only that. Men like Ken had skill. They knew how to use their cocks to bring a woman to such pleasure that she didn’t know where she was or what her name was. Lana would take that over a big cock for the sake of it any day.

Tags: Cynthia Dane Billionaire Romance
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