“I’m supposed to be a professional.” He pushes the heel of his hand into my crotch, rubbing me through the material of my clothes.
I squirm on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Youarea professional. Me blowing you while you’re working doesn’t change that fact.”
“I’d rather my boss didn’t know the details of my sex life.” He narrows his eyes as he continues teasing my pussy.
“It’s not like he’s a saint. I happen to know, for a fact, he regularly fucks Denise in his office. On the desk, against the windows, on top of—”
He clamps his hand over my mouth. “TMI, babe.” I snicker. “At least now I know what you ladies talk about when you’re together.”
Diesel married Denise six years ago and they have twin three-year-old daughters. I warmed to her instantly, and we’re good friends. Even though we don’t have much time to meet in person—what with her living in D.C.—we talk weekly by phone. She knows all about my history with Diesel, and it never fazed her that we slept together in the past. She’s good people.
“Sex, sex, and more sex,” I joke, leaning down to kiss him.
“I love tasting my cum on your tongue,” he murmurs against my lips as his hand breaches the band on my pants, sliding underneath my panties. A whimper escapes my mouth as his fingers part my folds, and he slides two digits inside my wet warmth. “But not as much as I love tastingyourcum onmytongue.”
I shriek as he lifts me off him, yanks my pants and panties down, and sets me against the edge of the desk.
“Spread ’em, queenie,” he commands, his eyes darkening with lust as his gaze zeros in on my bare pussy.
I do as I’m told, parting my thighs and gripping the edge of the desk as his hot tongue flattens against my clit, and it’s not long before I’m falling apart again.
_______________
“Honey, I’m home!”Caz calls out a few hours later as I’m setting the dining table for dinner. Theo is helping Galen in the kitchen, and the kids are plonked in front of the TV watching cartoons.
“Hey, queenie,” my giant teddy bear of a husband says as he enters the room. “Miss me?” he asks before lifting me up and swinging me around. I giggle. Caz has the same routine every day when he and Saint return from work, and I love it, finding familiarity in his words and the comfort of knowing I get a warm embrace every day. Placing my feet on the ground, he bundles me into a hug. “Heads-up,” he whispers in my ear. “He hasn’t forgotten what time of the month it is. He’s on a mission.”
I hate how my good mood plummets at his words and how guilty I feel for my natural reaction.
Things are becoming complicated the longer this goes on.
Saint stomps into the room, and it’s as if his presence sucks all the oxygen from the air. Or perhaps it’s only me who feels like that.
“Dad!” Luna appears at the door from the playroom, her pretty little face lighting up the second she sees Saint.
“Princess.” Saint drops to one knee, opening his arms. “Come give me some loving.” He waggles his brows, and she giggles, racing across the kitchen and flinging herself into his arms. Tears prick my eyes as I watch him hug Luna, his eyes closing and chest heaving with emotion as he holds her close.
I know how much Saint loves all the kids, and he shares a special closeness with Luna. But I also know he’s hugging her imagining that she’s his own flesh and blood. Wishing she shared his DNA because he is desperate for a child of his own.
He has never voiced those words to me.
I expect he has never voiced those words to the others either.
I don’t know for sure because we skate around the issues, which is not usual for us. Open communication has been the cornerstone of our relationship from the very start, but this is different. We’re in uncharted territory, and I don’t think any of us know how to navigate. I don’t want to upset Saint. He doesn’t want to upset me. And the others don’t want to upset either one of us.
I’m terrified it’s going to destroy what we’ve built here. I already feel cracks forming, and I don’t know how to fix it. If only I would get pregnant, but we’ve been trying for eight months with no success.
“Miss me?” Saint asks Luna, and she nods, snuggling into his chest.
“We made cookies,” Rora says, ambling into the kitchen followed by Bishop.
“Chocolate chip?” Caz asks, scooping his wild daughter into his arms.
“Poppa Bear!” Rora giggles as Caz tickles her. “That tickles!”
“That’s because I’m the Tickle Monster,” Caz says, chuckling as he continues tormenting her. Rora squeals, her loud laughter bouncing off the walls, helping to loosen the edge off my stress.
Saint releases Luna, standing. “How long until dinner?” he asks Galen.
