“I don’t understand,” I muttered. My voice was throaty, low and needy sounding. God, I was such a fool for this man’s attention. I wanted it like a flower in the desert wants rain. The fear and anxiety in my chest was blossoming into something else entirely. Hope. Hope that I wasn’t alone in this attraction. Terrible, beautiful hope.
“I think you do,” he said. “You told me you wanted honesty, and it’s time for me to give it to you. You crept into my room and touched yourself on my bed, or had started to, before being rudely interrupted, you found your panties in my pocket, and it made you curious… isn’t that right?” he asked. I nodded, mouth filled with cotton. “I saw you, because I see you every day. I know you like to dance after cleaning, and I know that today was the first time you’ve gone in my room. I know, because I watch you, Emma. I can’t help myself. You have taken up all the space in my head, and when I’m not here beside you, I miss you,” he said. His hand was cupping my cheek now, and one finger rubbed across my lips.
I stared at him, a prickling feeling of nerves laced with something darker and far more enticing filled me. It was obvious, but only in my dirtiest fantasies had I ever imagined that Barrett would watch me on there. The idea felt taboo and naughty as hell, and I liked it. I liked he wanted me that much. He nodded, bringing a hand to the top button of his shirt, and popping it open, revelling more of the long, tanned column of his neck.
“You’re telling me that while I’m working for you, in your house, totally oblivious, you’ve been sitting at work… watching?” I asked him. He nodded again, his handsome face totally unapologetic.
“So, you really shouldn’t be apologising to me for going into my room and making yourself at home. If anyone has crossed the line between us, it’s me. Does that scare you?” he asked. I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The desire I felt for this man, the fucking heart-wrenching adoration and infatuation, was bursting out of me at the seams.
“I don’t scare that easily,” I told him. That was the truth, and in my heart of hearts, I’d rather be obsessed over than ignored. “If I’d known, I could have made it much more interesting,” I heard myself say. Shit, what was wrong with me? Now that he’d confessed to wanting me, I couldn’t keep the lid on my crush.
“Oh, really? I’m surprised you’re not more upset. But you wanted honesty, and I’ll give it to you,” He said, shifting back to lean, crossing his arms with perfect nonchalance, an effortless power pose. “I have to admit, it feels good to have confessed.”
“Don’t tell me you felt guilty watching me at your desk? Did you feel like a dirty old man? A peeping Tom?” I wondered. He swallowed as my eyes raked up his thighs and over his body, only just contained in his button down. He nodded. “Did you just watch?” My voice was even lower now, and my pulse was skyrocketing. Nothing had ever felt more delicious than this taboo conversation. I felt like I was skirting the line of a raging fire and was only a second from falling into the flames. He nodded again, his eyes a dark furnace. “Pity.” I turned away as I uttered the last word, sure that I was tangling with something too intoxicating and sinful to handle. For all my talk, I’d somehow managed in twenty-five years not to end up in bed with anyone. I guess a childhood of building my walls high enough not to let my lack of parental love hurt me had also succeeded in shutting out anyone else who was interested in me. I didn’t want anyone, man or woman… until I’d met Barrett. Since meeting him, I was filled with longing and needy want that I didn’t know how to handle. I was a jaded, cynical virgin, if such a thing could exist, and until this man, I’d had no interest in changing it. Now, I was all talk, and no bite. Barrett would probably laugh to find out I talked a big game, but had little to no experience. As I moved away along the counter, a hand came to grip my arm, and spun me back. I landed against his hard chest with an oof, and looked up, shocked by his sudden movement. He was looming over me, turning me to press against him, the counter at my back, and his hard body along my front. One huge palm came up to cup my face, and his thumb eased across my lips, back and forth in a dragging motion, making my skin tingle.
“I enjoy playing with you Emma, sweetheart. I fucking love it, but tell me now if you want me to stop.” His deep voice raked along my nerves, making them sing.
“Or-?”
“Or, I won’t,” Barrett's voice thrilled me, as did his words. My stomach flip-flopped and I felt dizzy. I wasn’t in control of my body, or my reactions, and I sure as shit wasn’t in charge of the electricity raging between us. At that moment, I decided not to care.
“Don’t then. I don’t want you to stop.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, he was on me. He kissed me like he had been starving for me, desperate for me for six months, and I met his ferocity inch for inch, because I had been starving for this man’s touch. His attention made the world shine.
His tongue slipped between my lips and tangled with mine. His kiss was a punishing possession. I felt cherished and debauched at the same time in his hard grip. His hands weren’t gentle, as they circled my neck, tilting my head, directing me where he wanted me, and yet, they seemed to know what my body wanted more than I did. His masterful touch ignited my blood only more. I held onto his arms, desperate to stay on my feet, and he rolled his hips against my stomach. I felt him then, long and thick, the promise of what he wanted from me. The price of being his wife. A price I’d gladly pay for nothing in return. I rubbed myself against him like a cat. I might not have any experience, but I knew what felt good to me, and I was going to take my pleasure where I could. His breathing was harsh, and he bit off the kiss with a groan, as I rubbed myself up and down his length as best I could.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you destroy me,” he muttered, and then pushed me back, lifting me onto the counter and pressing my legs wide. I fell back on my elbows, breathing just as hard as him, as I watched him palm his straining length through his suit trousers. His other hand went to the hem of my skirt. His hand slid up my inner thigh, and pressed against the soaked cotton of my sensible boy-short panties. He hooked the material aside, and without fanfare, slid his fingers through my slick folds. I cried out, arching my back at the feeling of someone else’s touch, for the first time in my life. This man’s touch. That was what made all the difference.
“You’re drenched, Emma, soaking right through your panties,” Barrett said in that deep voice that tied my heart into knots. “Is this how much you’ve been needing me?” he asked. I nodded, pride thrown out the window. He pulled his finger from my panties and brought it to his lips, sucking the taste of me off his fingers, before returning them right back to where I wanted them. “Don’t fucking tell me you’ve been needy and wet like this, while I’ve been hard and desperate for you for six long months?” he said. I managed a shrug.
“I think we really might be those idiots,” I panted, as his fingers explored my slit, from my clit to the entrance, and his thick fingers pumped inside me, stretching me.
“I’m the idiot. You, sweetheart, are perfect,” he said thickly. God, this might just be sex talk, lost in an insane moment, but fuck, it felt good to be praised by this man. “I never dreamed you’d want me, like I wanted you… if I’d known…” he trailed off, as he sank his middle finger deep into me, and his thumb settled on my clit, circling it in a way that made my hips come off the counter.
“If you’d known?” I gasped out, as my hips rotated against his hand, completely unbidden and out of my control.
“If I’d known, I would have married you months ago,” he said, and the words, added to the feeling he was inspiring, as he fucked me with this thick, agile hand, sent me across an edge I’d had no idea was so close. Ok, I wasn’t a stranger to orgasms. One of the first things I’d bought when I got to America was a dildo. I had been sure I’d need it to stave off the horniness I felt around Barrett, but it hadn’t really worked that way. Instead, it had been fantasies of him that had filled my mind, as I’d used the slick silicone to explore parts of myself I’d never been particularly interested in before. In the end, it only strengthened my crush. This orgasm, however, was nothing like those ones. This one came over me suddenly, wrenching a cry from me, right from my soul. Barrett’s other hand landed softly across my mouth, cutting off my cry and sealing it inside. He silenced me with one hand, as the other continued to wring pleasure from me, working furiously between my legs. He was completely in control of my body, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever felt. I could only make a sound when he let me. I could stop coming only when he allowed it. I contracted even more around him, and he swore quietly.
“You’re tighter than a goddamn vice, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes locked to the place between my legs, where his hand still moved, drinking up the sight of his possession. I couldn’t stop myself from looking, either. The sight of his thick wrist disappearing between my legs finished me, and I fell back on the counter, a slave to the new, exotic feelings he’d given me. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Barrett muttered, when I finally roused myself enough to blink my eyes open at him. He was staring down at me with something in his eyes that made my heart beat oddly. I tried to sit and found my muscles still bloodless. He gently closed my legs and helped me to straighten up on the counter, smoothing my hair back with soft strokes, just like I did with Chloe. I closed my eyes and felt peace and security settle over me I’d never felt before.
“I think we can take that as sealing our engagement,” Barrett said, leaning in to hold me. He pressed a kiss against my forehead. A thought struck me through the haze of pleasure in my head, and I brought my hand down to his slacks, where his hard-on was threatening to break through.
“An agreement needs to be reciprocal,” I murmured, my voice scratchy and hoarse. I jumped down from the counter before he could protest, and sank to my knees on the hard kitchen tile. Barrett was looking down at me with alarm and desire thick in his gaze.
“Emma, you don’t have to. I didn’t get you off with an ulterior motive,” he said, even as I tried to undo his belt with shaking fingers.
“I know, but I want to. I want to see what it feels like, and I want to make you feel good, like you made me.” He helped me open his belt with slow fingers, obviously still undecided. I tugged down his fly and reached my hand inside, angling the heavy, rigid thickness out of the gap. “The only thing is… I haven’t actually done this before, so you might need to teach me,” I confessed. Barrett’s eyes widened a moment before he muttered a curse, as I slid my hand up and down his long length. I’d seen a penis, of course, in different places, but nothing compared to the real thing. The beautiful alienness of the shape. I leaned in and kissed the tip, sensing that Barrett still wasn’t sure. “Please. Let me,” I begged him, and his hand came to my hair, and he tucked it back behind my ear.
“How can I say no, when you asked me so prettily, and I want you so badly? But Emma, you should know… I’m not a gentle man.”
“I don’t care. I want you. Show me what you like. I don’t bruise easily,” I told him, and then, to seal the deal, opened my mouth and sank down on the head of him, as far as I could, and then pulled back. His breath caught in his throat, as his hands cupped my face, taking control of the motion, sliding himself in and out, back just far enough that I gagged lightly, before withdrawing. I loved it. His size and scent, his tender dominance. It undid something inside me that had longed to feel this kind of power and adoration. I took all he could give me, and soon, he was pressing in and out faster, and my head came to rest against the back of the counter. Even that was thrilling, like I was trapped, a slave to Barrett’s will. I felt sublimely filthy and reveled in it.
When he finished, his rhythm grew frantic, and his fingers were hard as he gripped my hair, and I hollowed my cheeks and took him as far as I could. He spilt down my throat, and I took every drop. He looked wrecked, and I had done that. I felt more powerful than I ever had before. Barrett helped me to my feet and kissed me. I wondered if he could taste himself in my mouth, like I could taste me on his lips.
“You were made for me, Emma, and I was made for you. Agree to be my wife.” His words sounded like an order.
“Is that an order or a question?”
‘Both,” he said flatly. Could I even deny this man? Did I have it in me to go against something I wanted so badly?
“I mean, it doesn’t have to be forever. If you meet someone else, or whatever-,”
“I don’t plan on getting divorced again, Emma. You should know that, upfront.”
“So, you're saying that we get married, and that’s it – forever?” I asked. Barrett nodded, his eyes fixed on mine.
“That’s right. Forever. Agree to be mine, and I will never let you go. You should know that in advance.”
“Ok. Let’s do it.” My words sounded impulsive, light even, but they came straight from my soul. Barrett’s eyes narrowed, and he looked about to speak, when my alarm vibrated madly on my watch. I checked the time and did a double take.
“I have to pick the kids up!”