Another spank. And another. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“You’re a selfish bastard.”
“You drive me fucking crazy.”
“You make me wish I’d never worked at that coffee place.”
He growls and fucks me hard, spanking me, pulling my hair. “You make me wish I had less self-control.”
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t have a comeback. I don’t have anything at all but the bliss and the pain of him ripping into my pussy like a maniac. I arch one last time as he pulls my hair, riding me and fucking me, and my pussy clenches down as one long word slips from my lips. “Please,” I moan, low and slow. “Please, please, please.”
“Come for me, baby. Go ahead and come for me.”
I shatter to pieces and the bastard isn’t gentle about it. No, he fucks me into oblivion and out the other side, and only when I’m shaking and trembling from the after-effects does he finally rip his cock from my pussy. He shoves it into my mouth, gripping my hair, no commands or questions asked, and I suck him whimpering and moaning until he finishes on my tongue.
I swallow every drop and gasp for breath when it’s done.
We’re slick with sweat. It glistens on his ripped and torn skin. He looks incredible, almost too beautiful. I lie there like a lump, beyond ruined, aching all over, and so satisfied I could sleep for days.
“Call out of your shift tomorrow,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“You’re not washing dogs anymore. Call out. Tell them you quit.”
“Stellan—”
He grips me possessively and pulls me close against him. “My wife doesn’t wash dogs.”
“There’s nothing wrong with grooming.”
“I know that. But you don’t work yourself to the bone. Not while you’re mine.”
I chew my lip. Do I really want to give in to him like this? If I quit my jobs, what’ll happen when this inevitably goes wrong?
But I want to do it. God, I desperately want to sleep until nine in the morning tomorrow. The thought makes me nearly cry.
I could do it. Stellan would be happy if I took a break.
This is dangerous, though. The more I change for him, the more it feels like I’m giving myself away.
“I’m not quitting,” I murmur finally, nuzzling into his chest. “But I’ll call out.”
He doesn’t seem happy, but he doesn’t argue.
KIRA
Iget an entire day to myself. Stellan’s not in bed the next morning, and I really do call out of work. The poor dogs will miss me, but they’ll survive.
With Gem at school, I have the big, gorgeous house all to myself.
I don’t even know what to do at first. Since when did I have free time? After exploring my new home, I get dressed and take a walk around the neighborhood. There’s a cute café nearby, a bodega two blocks over, some restaurants and pizza places, and a park with an adorable playground.
It’s strange, sitting down on a bench at four in the afternoon. Gem will get home in a little over an hour, and we’ll talk about her day. But for now, I have no obligations, nothing pressing for my time, no pressure to rush off to the next back-breaking minimum wage job. There’s still stress—there will always be stress, that’s just how I am—but right now, it’s muted and almost silent.
Though it comes roaring back when I step through the door and find Stellan waiting for me with a dress.
He’s in his usual suit, though I think this one’s nicer than usual. His facial hair is trimmed and groomed neatly, and his hair’s pushed back. But it’s the dress that really bothers me. It’s deep black and draped over the bed. I’m guessing a heavy wool blend. Conservative but also obscenely expensive, with a modest neckline, defined shoulders, and a tight bodice.
