Now that her days aren’t spent attending classes, I have a lot more access to her and it’s fucking glorious. I knew she needed some independence—and an education—but sending her off to the university campus every morning never failed to make me jealous. Knowing she’d be around boys her own age led to me pulling her out of class on a regular basis, fucking her on the desk of whichever administrator I’d paid off that day.
Over and over again, she would tell me I’m the only man she’s ever been attracted to, the only man she’ll ever love, until I started to believe it. Hard not to believe her when she’s just as insatiable in bed as I am. When every time she looks at me, her heart is right there in her eyes. But hell if I didn’t love her being pregnant with my child while attending college. I made sure to take out a full-page in the Times when we married, so everyone would know who she belonged to. Who got her pregnant and who planned to keep her—always.
Impatiently, I watch the numbers go up on the elevator screen. Halfway there.
I want my wife.
Our son woke up early this morning and she took him out for breakfast. And I love how she cares for our boy. I spend as much time with him as I can, too—I’m already signed up to coach little league—but his early morning wake-up call meant I didn’t get to bang my incredibly hot wife and I’ve been suffering for it all day.
Finally, the doors to the elevator slide open to reveal the open-air ballroom. Hired staff hustle in every direction, moving tables into place and stringing lights. There are cherry blossoms everywhere. Artificial and real. Candles. Light, airy curtains being carried into the space on a summer breeze. It’s all beautiful, of course. She does an astonishing job every year.
But I want her in my arms. I’ve gone hours without her and the strain is getting to me.
My heart skitters when she dances into view, holding a clipboard. There’s a huge smile on her face as she talks to a pair of female caterers, pointing out items on her list. She’s dressed for yoga in a flowery sports bra and black high-waisted pants that separate her high butt cheeks and my cock wants to weep over the sight. She must have known I was coming and wanted to tease me. She knows damn well that watching her do yoga turns me into an animal.
Hell, thinking about it does.
I walk in her direction and people lower their voices as they start to notice me, alerting Josie to the fact that something is up. She twists around and sees me, pure joy blooming across her face and I almost drop the roses in my hand, I’m so overcome with love and appreciation for her. What would my life be without this girl?
God help me. I’m never going to find out.
“You’re here,” Josie squeals, tossing her clipboard onto the closest table and bounding over, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing up on her toes. Opening her mouth beneath mine and exploring me with her tongue, as usual not giving a flying fuck about who is watching. Our public displays of indecency are well documented by the press, because we can’t help it. When we’re together, we’re the only two people in the room. “I love seeing you so well rested,” she murmurs in between kisses, pouting sexily. “I knew it was a good idea to swap coffee for herbal tea in your office. All that caffeine was bad for you.”
“You always know best, baby,” I say gruffly.
I’m not exaggerating. This girl, it’s almost like her sole mission in life is to care for me. She’s lowered my blood pressure, cholesterol and stress level at a rate that baffles my doctors. I’m still the same weight I always was—and she loves every pound—but I’m healthier because of her. Have more energy, more interest in life outside of work, because she makes it all so fun and exciting and beautiful. I’m the luckiest man on the planet.
Gently, I tap the bouquet of roses against her butt. “Happy anniversary.”
“Thank you,” she says, playing with the knot of my tie, emotion swirling in her eyes. “Happy anniversary for making me the happiest girl in the world.” She twists side to side, her lower lip sticking out slightly. “I love my Papa.”
My balls squeeze so tight, I have to suck in a breath. “You know what you’re doing.”
Her gaze is nothing but innocent. “What do you mean?”
“You’re talking to me in your little girl voice,” I rasp, giving in to the temptation to knead her backside, the hell with whoever is watching. “I’m in need of a fix, Josie.”
“You are?” she purrs, still in that tone that drives me wild. “Well, it’s a good thing you got here just in time for yoga.”