She threw the pen down and leaned back in her chair. “Women are multi-orgasmic, Romeo. If you’re not up to overachieving, certainly I can find someone who is.”
“Oh, you misunderstand me. The only question is why stop at two?”
Her throat went tight. “I assume we’ll be busy sometimes.”
He looked back down. “I think you might want to leave some of these things on the table.”
“I don’t need you tospankme.”
“Don’t you? Sometimes it seems as if you’re asking for punishment.”
“Not interested,” she said, her heart beating faster, her pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat, calling her a liar. Oh no. She was lying. His eyes continued to meet hers as he pushed the contract back toward the center of the table. She went and retrieved it. She crossed out the part she had added about spankings, bondage and other forms of submission. But her pride wouldn’t let her leave it at that.
And so she took it upon herself to add a new section.
She passed the paper back to the middle of the table. Made him stand up, and walk over to the center of the table, where she watched him closely, every line in his body, the way that the suit fitted him. He slid the paper back with him, back to his seat at the table. He read what she had written and looked up at her. “You want me to beg?”
She nodded. “Yes. I will require begging. For what you want.”
His lips curved into a smile. “And praise.”
“Seems fitting.”
“I thought so. That is of course, if we decide to pursue a sexual relationship inside marriage.”
“Yes,” he said. “Inside marriage. That is precisely what the paperwork covers.”
That hung heavily between them.
After they got married, if they were to touch each other then the agreement changed. Then it became all of these paragraphs, all of these amendments. Punishment and begging.
But if they didn’t touch each other then they were free to pursue other parties.
But all of that was only when they were married. It wasn’t now.
Crucially. It wasn’t now.
He stood up, and began to walk toward her, loosening his tie as he did so, and then, shocking her entirely, he began to slowly lower himself to his knees in front of her. He put his hands on her thighs, and began to push her skirt up her hips.
Electricity struck her, like a wave. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might sit. Except…
She was hot. Dizzy. Desperate.
“Is this what you had in mind?”
She had on thigh-high pantyhose—because she couldn’t stand full-on types; it wasn’t because she was trying to be sexy—but he lowered his head and licked the place where the lace met her skin.
She gripped the edge of her chair, watching her stepbrother’s face as his tongue glided over her skin.
She gasped when he reached up, gripped her panties and pulled them to the side, exposing her as he pressed her legs wider, and dragged his tongue through her slick folds. The light shone bright through that window, and she felt scalded by it. So connected to what was happening. To the fact that it was him between her legs. This was happening again.
But it was okay. Because they had paperwork, but they hadn’t signed it yet. It was okay, because it was paperwork meant for after they got married, and they weren’t married yet.
Later. Later they could practice keeping their hands off of each other. Later, they would focus entirely on their child. Later.
But right now she was desperate for him. Right now, he was pleasuring her with such intensity that she didn’t think she would ever recover from it. He sucked her deep into his mouth as he pushed two fingers inside of her and brought her closer and closer to the edge. It was happening so embarrassingly fast. She couldn’t have resisted him if she wanted to. It was like it was inevitable. When the wave crashed over her, she cried out his name. And when he looked up at her, there was a satisfied smile on his face. “There was one.”
Then he lifted her up out of the chair, brought her down on the boardroom table. Funny that it was the second time she had had sex, and also the second time on a table. Well, maybe there would be something funny about it later. Right now, she was just desperate. Tearing at his clothes and trying to get his skin underneath her hands. She tore his tie off, tore his shirt open and pressed her palms against his ridged abdomen. He was unbuckling his pants, as quickly as possible, freeing himself and thrusting deep inside of her as he unbuttoned her shirt so that he could palm her breasts.
