I hate her, and I love her.
I am definitely going to die from this pregnancy.
The next several minutes were a blur of movement and sensation and desperate attempts to remain quiet while my wife,my pregnant, cosmically guided, absolutely insatiable wife, took exactly what she wanted from me.
In my office.
On my chair.
During work hours.
This is the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever done.
This is the most reckless thing I’ve ever done.
This is—incredible.
She finished first; her face buried in my shoulder to muffle the sound, her body trembling against mine. I followed seconds later, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks, my own release so intense that I saw stars. For a moment, we just sat there, breathing hard, her forehead resting against mine.
“That was—” I started.
“Exactly what I needed,” she finished, kissing me softly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome?” It came out as a question because I wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened as she climbed off me with a satisfied smile, adjusting her dress while I tried to remember how to form coherent thoughts.
“I should go,” she said, checking her reflection in the window. “You have a meeting soon.”
“Athena.”
“Hmm?” She turned back, looking perfectly composed, as if she hadn’t just ambushed and taken advantage of me in my office for a quickie.
“You can’t just...” I gestured helplessly. “You can’t just show up and—”
“Can’t I?” She smiled, that knowing, cosmic smile that suggested the universe had told her exactly how this would go. “The universe says I can.”
“The universe is going to get me fired.”
“The universe,” she said, walking to the door and unlocking it, “knows you loved every second of that.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Damn it!
“I’ll see you at home,” she said, blowing me a kiss. “Love you!”
And then she was gone. Vanished as I sat there for a full minute, trying to process what had just happened.
My wife just used me for sex.
In my office.
During work hours.
And I let her.
I actively participated.
I—enjoyed it.
