“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, meeting his gaze once more, the lust she saw there making her heart pound, her nipples hard against the fabric of the towel beneath her.
Both her arousal and her blush burned hot as the semen arced through the air, coating her outstretched tongue, the cords of Keihl’s neck standing out as he threw his head back with a groan. His pumping fist emptied out one last bit of his essence, the hot seed splashing across her lips. She licked away the salty fluid without even thinking.
“Swallow it.” She stared up at him as she did, his gaze flashing as he grinned his approval. He tapped the head of his cock against her flaming cheek. “Now clean me up, girl.”
For long minutes he stood over her, watching, letting her worship him with her lips and tongue. It was something she took a visceral, forbidden, shameful joy in doing, in serving him in that most base of ways, loving the sense of subservience that filled her as she did it.
Kirsten smiled up at him as she tucked his penis back into his warm-ups. “Thank you. Sir.”
Keihl peered down at her a moment, a muscle in his jaw tightening, then caressed her chin. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, my dear.”
His arms bundled her up then, and he took her into the living room, shushing her when she tried to ask him what he was doing.
“Not a word now,” Keihl murmured at her ear as he sat down in the recliner, cradling her in his lap. He moved her until his still partially erect cock pressed to her bottom, her back to him, pulling her back until she laid against him, the stubbled chin nuzzling the top of her head. “Lay back and let me. I’ll make it worth it, my girl. Just let go.”
Then in that quiet, darkened living room, the only sounds her quickening breathing, her increasingly desperate moans, and the tick-tock of the grandfather clock, Keihl’s devilishly clever fingers brought her higher and higher, her world folding in on itself, until all she knew were the hard muscles of his arms, his wordless cooing in her ear, and the throbbing ache of her clit as his fingers stroked it ceaselessly, mercilessly.
Her orgasm took her over then, her moaning spiraling up into a lost cry as three thick fingers plunged deep within her, her clit exploding in a white hot super-nova of sensation, her vision fading out as she blasted off into space.
Keihl’s low voice brought her back to the now, the tone, the profound emotions making her smile even as hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes. He whispered the words at her ear, the soft kisses of his lips against her skin.
“Mine. Mine, my love.”
Chapter Thirty Five
T
he steam from the noodles wafted up into their faces, the white vapor reminding Keihl of dry ice, of the fog that shrouded the busy city street. He’d taken Ella to a little place he’d stumbled across years ago. Tucked into a street level nook between two huge nondescript office buildings, it had been a place he’d passed a thousand times — until one night, drunk, exhausted, and starving after spending hours with Kirsten at a club, they’d staggered through the doors of the little Korean restaurant.
He still wasn’t sure what it was called. “Yet-something” was what he’d always kept telling people. So he just called it “Yet.”
Now, as he watched Ella bending over her huge bowl of noodles, her hair as dark as he’d remembered Kirsten’s the first time he’d come here, he smiled. It was going to be okay. At least for now.
But Ella wasn’t going to like this. Not one bit.
He shoveled in the scorching hot noodles, groaning at how good they tasted, ignoring the throngs that passed them by just feet away along the sidewalk. They sat at a battered, wrought iron two person table just outside the doors of the restaurant; he got the impression Yet’s management never believed anyone would actually use the decrepit table. The mouthwatering smell of the noodles competed with, melded with, the scent of hops, car exhaust and the coffee truck parked across the street.
“So, what’s the occasion, Boss man?” Ella jabbed her chopsticks at him, slurping a long white noodle into her mouth. “You never take me out to lunch.”
“Maybe I’m about to give you a raise?”
Ella snorted. “More like fire me.”
“Hate to let you down, but I’m not firing you. Not in a million fucking years.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but for just a split second he saw relief in the depths of those blue eyes.
“I did have a reason though.” Keihl set down his chopsticks, wiping his lips with a napkin. “I’ve… found out a little more about the Trust.”
Understatement of the century, asswipe.
“Oh?” Ella kept eating, but he knew he had her attention. He knew she’d become almost obsessed with it the past few weeks. Once on the trail, that woman was relentless.
Unfortunately, this was one time he needed her to be anything but relentless.
“I need you to drop the Trust case for now.”
Ella coughed, and for a moment, he feared she might spit noodles out of her nose. She slapped the sticks down, taking a long sip from her tea.
The blue eyes were sharp as lasers, and almost as deadly.
“What the ever loving
fuck
are you talking about, Keihl? You’ve had me on that thing for weeks and—”
“I know, I know.” He held up a hand, as if to deflect the hail of arrows she was shooting from her eyes. “I just… there have been developments. I’ve learned a little more — and it’s time to set this one aside. At least for now.”
Ella sat back in her chair, folding her arms under the swell of her breasts, the dark gray of her sweater no doubt shielding her from the chill, but doing absolutely nothing to hide her figure.
“What? Why?” She tilted her head. “Did the asshole partners get their balls in a knot over it? Afraid they’ll lose that fat client?”
“No. Not nearly that simple. I wish it was.”
“So tell me then! I can’t believe this shit.”
“Why are you so pissed about this, Ella?”
A car drove by down the street, the sound system turned up so high the steel mesh of their table top vibrated with the bass.
“I want to know why, Keihl. You and I
both
know there’s something here. Don’t you want to know anymore?”
“It doesn’t matter, Ella. We need to lay low on this one.”
“Jesus.” She looked away, disgust plain in her eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
“What?”
She’s taking this even worse than you thought. Nice job, dick.
Of course, he couldn’t tell her about Blaine, about the e-mail from Stan he’d received just that morning. The invitation to the next Trust Quorum up in Seattle. Nor could he tell her the deep, soul-stirring excitement he’d felt sitting in that fire-lit room, listening to Blaine explain how the Trust operated, at the unique role women played in the whole intricate machinery of the thing. It was like something out of the Dark Ages.
Or his most deep-seated fantasies.
“I just didn’t think you’d fold like this, Keihl. You get a little bit of pressure put on you, and you fucking go down like a house of cards. Doesn’t make sense.”
“Ella — I told you already. I found out a little more.” He took a long drag from his beer, the glass frigid against his lips. “I’m
not
saying we don’t ever find out. I’m saying we need to shelve this for a while.”
She threw up her hands. “Fine. It’s bullshit, but I get it. All pays the same, right?” She sighed, picking up her chopsticks, picking at her noodles.
“I know it’s bullshit, Ella. Believe me, I agree — but we don’t have a choice here.”
You mean none that you haven’t already made.
“I just… I need to know one thing.” She met his gaze. “What did you find out?”
“That the Trust goes a lot deeper than you or I even understand yet.” He looked across the street, the fog so thick, he could only make out the vague outline of the coffee truck. “I found out that we haven’t even scratched the surface of this thing yet.”
Ella glanced up at him, the steam making her blue eyes seem to shimmer. “So you’re not giving up on it?”
“Not on your goddamned life.”
She gave him a little smile, then shrugged, digging her chopsticks into her noodles once more. “Since we’re ‘shelving this’”—she made air quotes with one hand—“I guess this won’t matter. I found out more. A
lot
more. I’m still not sure you’ll even believe all of it.”
“Like I said. It doesn’t matter now.” Keihl set his beer down and picked up his chopsticks again. “When it’s time, we’ll go over it. But not now.”
He swallowed down a noodle, scanning the loud, fog-shrouded cityscape surrounding them.
“Ella, I think you’ll be pretty fucking amazed at what I’ll believe.”
Chapter Thirty Six
W
as obsession sometimes a good thing?
Keihl stirred the cream into his coffee, watching Kirsten walk. He’d taken her to Federico’s an upscale store specializing in imported food items. The best part about it was the upstairs coffee bistro blessed with a mezzanine that overlooked almost the entire floor plan of the store.
It was the perfect place to watch her.
Of course he’d given her a list. Did they need every single item on the list? Well, no. But he knew she wanted to make sure she was walking enough, and he couldn’t wait to take her out in public again, to watch his beautiful wife stun everyone around her once more.
He loved the way her hair — so lustrous now — caught the light, the dark locks so vibrant, the texture just calling to his hands to stroke it, to let it fall through his fingers, to wrap it in his fist.
He’d certainly made her wrap it around his cock more than a few times. He knew he’d never get tired of ordering her to do it, never get tired of the triumphant feeling that filled him at the way she blushed, at the whispered words: “Yes, Sir.”
You know this is fucked up, right?
Was it really though? It wasn’t as if men talked about this sort of thing? Who knows? Perhaps other men took great delight in watching their wives’ bodies change, in showing all around that she was indeed, in every way possible, his. Was that so wrong?
If it was, he didn’t give a fuck.
All he cared about was Kirsten, and the baby, and doing everything he could to make things good for them. Most of all, he wanted to savor the entire experience, knowing how fleeting it was, much like time itself. It always flew by too fast, didn’t it?
He was blessed, and he knew it. He didn’t deserve her, nor the baby, nor this incredible experience, this stunning awakening of this part of each of them. He didn’t realize it was possible to be this close to someone, to love that much.
And he was so glad he’d had the chance to make the discovery.
Of course, there was more to it than that. The lust was ever present. He’d struggled with the seemingly contradictory impulses to both protect and conquer his gorgeous wife. He knew that the animal instinct was still strong within all humans, and he was no different. That had made sense, once he’d been able to be honest enough with himself to acknowledge the truth of it.
So that morning, he’d indulged himself, indulged in his urge to conquer, to make sure Kirsten knew just where she stood, understood who the Captain of their little ship was, and most importantly, who obeyed the orders.
It had taken him longer than he’d anticipated to find the outfit he’d made her try on that morning. The cream color set off the clear olive tone of her skin, and the contrast against the light color of the fabric made her dark sable hair even more striking. But the snug fit, like the hands of a jealous lover, was his favorite part. The top was just low cut enough to accentuate the curves of her swollen breasts, drawing the eye without being vulgar.
Just this side of slutty was what came to his mind, though it was classier than that. The lace fringe at the neckline, wrists and hems served to accentuate her limbs, her long, slender neck, the buoyant pillows of her breasts. The leggings perfectly showcased the mouthwatering sweep of her hips, the curves of her round bottom — something she regularly protested had gotten way too big.
He knew the truth though — she’d never looked sexier, had never looked more feminine, more devastatingly alluring, than she did at that very moment.
As she’d held up the top, she’d gone pale, her big blue eyes looking from the clothing to him, then back again.
“Y—you’re serious?”
He’d nodded solemnly. “As a heart attack. You’re wearing that today on our little shopping trip.”
“Keihl…”
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I— I love it. But—” she’d looked up at him, her eyes imploring. “—it shows so much. I feel like a blimp. I’m surprised I can even squeeze down the aisles.”
“You’ll see, Kirsten. You’re stunning.”
He’d stood then, walking to her, caressing her jaw, titling her head back as he kissed her softly. “You may not see it — but I assure you, I do.”
A lustful — and hopeful — glint had snuck into her gaze as she’d peered up at him, pressing her breasts against his chest. “You can see me here… any way you like. Why make me wear this?”