“Sometimes,” I say. “When I’m very tired or another injury is flaring up, I might limp a wee bit.”
“I’ve never seen you limp.” She looks up at me, eyes clear on mine, no shock or disgust. “Could I massage your leg for you?”
“Another time, perhaps.” Reaching down, I pull the release mechanism and take the prosthetic off. Bare, red, puckered skin shows. Still, her expression dinnae change. “Are ye still in the mood for endorphin therapy, Sophie girl?”
Despite the seriousness of this moment, she grins at me. The same saucy one as before. “Yes. This is an important medical treatment.”
I’d waited for shock or surprise, disgust, maybe. She looks at me exactly the way she did before. Holding my arms out, “C’mere.”
I slide my fingers up her thighs, under her knickers and she’s wet and soft for me. The softest touch, my thumb circling her clit and she’s ready. Holding my cock, I kiss her. “Climb on, my good girl.”
Blushing hard enough that I can see it in the dim lighting, she does as I hook a finger in her knickers, pulling them aside so she can slide down on me.
“Ohhh… this part,” she sighs. “The best.” Her nails dig into my shoulders as she slowly wraps her snug pussy around me, not stopping until I feel the soft skin of her arse against my balls.
“Move for me,” I urge her, holding on to her waist, lifting her a bit. “You’re gonna make me come too fast if ye stay like this, gripping me tight.”
She puts her hands on my face, leaning in to kiss me as I hoist her up and down on my cock. The feel of her stiff nipples rubbing against my chest makes me groan.
“So good inside ye,” I whisper, lightly biting her neck. “Sweet, and tight. Wet and warm.” Pushing on her lower back, she arches against me and my piercing presses hard against her front.
“Oh, husband,” she groans drunkenly.“Sogood. I can feel you clear up to my throat.”
I chuckle, which bounces her a bit on my cock and she lets out a hoarse little cough. “I dinnae think that’s possible, but…” Pushing on her back again, I press my hand against her stomach. “I felt myself in your throat.” I put her hand under mine, against her skin. “I can feel me here, too.”
Her eyes open wide as she gasps. “That’s- oh, mygod,that’s-” She comes, her cunt gripping me tight, rippling around my cock as I circle her clit with my thumb, pressing hard, dragging her orgasm out.
Flipping her on to her back, I move over her, thrusting harder now, groaning toward my own release. “Shite, I’m not wearing a condom, I’ll pull out.”
“Don’t.” Sophie blurts as her legs tighten around me. “Come inside me. I want to feel you.”
Throwing back my head, I nearly black out from the avalanche of sensation. The velvet grip of her pussy, thighs tight against my hips and breasts pressing against me. My wife’s soft words. I erupt, flooding her with heat, feeling her clamp down on me again. We stay together, not moving, not knowing where one of us begins and the other ends.
“Michael?” She slips her hand out from under mine on her stomach.
“Hmm?”
“Do you…?” Her warm hand rests on top of mine, now.
“Do I what, love?”
“Nothing,” she murmurs. “I’m just happy.”
“So am I,” I say, kissing her gently.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sophie…
While I know that this is a work trip and not a honeymoon, I eagerly peek out the window as the Rolls-Royce bringing us from the private airport enters the city.
Evening is settling over Tokyo and already the city is alive with ribbons of neon; pink, blue, yellow, and eye-searing green. The buildings tower over us and the streets are crammed with people. Expensively dressed businesspeople, tired tradesfolk eager to head home, and teenagers with hair in colors brighter than the neon on the buildings.
Torin is sitting next to the limo driver, clearly displeased to not be behind the wheel, but accepting the driver has a better knowledge of the streets of Tokyo than he does. Ian gets out first at the Four Seasons Hotel, scanning the circular drive and intimidating the poor doorman who rushes up to help us. Three more MacTavish security guards, including Michael’s second in command Kyle, are following us in another SUV and they’re out of their car and circling us in moments, escorting us into the hotel lobby.
A manager is waiting for us, impeccably dressed in an expensive navy suit, her hair smoothed back into a pristine chignon. Greeting us with a warm smile and a graceful bow, she hands our key cards to Michael.
“Konbanwa,good evening, Mr. MacTavish. We are honored to have you and your lovely wife here.”
