She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Forget sexy, and forget fucking hot; she’s beautiful. This is the moment I discover that when Janella comes, she makes no sound. Where there was sound, now there’s only erratic breaths that leave her in gasp after gasp after gasp.
Her entire body shudders with the force of an orgasm that pulls her under, pulsing hard around my cock, until she’s dragging me off the edge right behind her.
I pull out of her just in time to lose all control. Pulsing bliss peaks and wracks through my entire quivering body over and over. I splatter over her belly, hot and thick, painting her with my pleasure.
We work through it, every last spasm and every last drop.
I brush her hair back from her sweaty forehead, and the tenderness of my own gesture catches me off guard. I’ve killed men with these hands. I’ve broken bones and cut through fleshwith them. But they touch her the way she should be—like something precious. It feels more dangerous than snuffing out a life.
Neither of us can breathe long enough for a kiss to last, but I try. When our lips part, I remember to ask, “Was that okay?”
In return, Janella erupts in ludicrous, impossibly cute giggles.
No woman should be able to look adorable after getting railed on a giant steel table where her employees assemble food. And yet.
Here she is.
Meanwhile, I can’t feel my face.
I’m fucking ruined for anyone else.Ruined.It doesn’t matter that I’ve had hundreds of women. This is innately otherworldly. Every thrust carves out space in my chest for something I’ve got no name for.
It doesn’t fucking matter if I have no right to take this. That she should give her first time to someone better, someone gentler, someone who’s always bought into the sentimental bullshit instead of treating it like the punchline it’s been to me.
I’m too much of a selfish motherfucker to give this up.
To giveherup.
“Best lunch break I’ve ever had,” I tell her stupidly.
She beams up at me. But slowly, that smile dies.
“Oh my God,” she squeals and sits upright. Her arms wrap around her chest. Insatiable fuck that I am, I appreciate how hard she fails at putting that rack away.
I recoil just in time to keep from cracking her skull with mine.
“No!” she says and smacks my shoulder. “I’m theboss.I can’t have sex in my place of work! It wasn’t in any of the books, but come on, this issounprofessional of me!”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. There’s no stopping it. It froths up inside me and spills out of my fucking nose. “So, fire them and hire new ones.”
The suggestion is mostly to fuck with her. Of course it works.
She smacks me again.
This time, I grab her wrist and drag her hand down the mess I’ve left on her. I guide those fingers into her swollen mouth. She blushes furiously but sucks her fingers clean.
“Oh my God,” she says again, this time in an embarrassed whisper.
I want her. I want her still, and I want her again, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with any of it. Really, I should’ve known impulsively marrying a woman would be the first domino to fall in a series of firsts.
Since then, I’ve gone a record five months without sex. I’vedeflowereda woman. And now, what, I want to sleep with the same woman again? When the fuck have I done that before?
I make myself back away from her and hand her a towel.
Maybe it’ll help to have her dressed again. To no longer have those freckles on display, and my tongue begging to chart every one of them.
I manage to confirm it doesn’t.
