Page 69 of Drunk on You

“A beach day,” Ana volleys.

“Double lame.”

She glares at me. “Okay, what’s your amazing idea?”

She brings her chopsticks to her pouty lips and pops a piece of sushi into her mouth, and for a second, I’m so distracted by her that I forget what we’re talking about.

“Is it time for dessert yet?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, as soon as you agree that a picnic or a beach day is perfect for the corporate event.”

“Anastasia Parker,” I mock. “Did you just offer me sex in exchange for me agreeing to go along with your idea? Tsk-tsk,” I chide. “That’s not very legal.”

“One, it’s Anastasia Kingston-Webb. And two?—”

Before she can finish her sentence, I have her thrown over my shoulder, and I’m walking her over to the couch. When I drop her onto her back, she bounces slightly.

“Julian!”

“What’s your last name?” I ask, caging her in with my arms while I pin her hips with my own.

“I haven’t changed it yet,” she says, squirming under me.

My wife might have an exterior as hard as a concrete wall, but all it takes is me offering up my cock, and she turns into a puddle of liquid.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I tell her, reaching between us. Today, she’s wearing a flowy dress that buttons down the front, giving me easy access. “What’s your last name?”

She shoots a defying glare at me, and I push her tiny excuse for underwear aside and thrust two fingers inside her.

“You gonna tell me?” I ask, pumping them in and out of her while my thumb massages her clit.

“Kingston,” she gasps, playing games.

My fingers go deeper, harder, and she moans, only a few strokes away from detonating.

“Try again,” I warn. “And if you answer wrong this time, I’m going to stop.”

Her eyes widen at the thought, and I pretend like I’m going to make good on my threat.

“Don’t you dare,” she breathes. “I’m so close.”

“What’s your last name?”

I apply pressure to her clit, and she screams, “Parker,” as she comes all over my fingers and hand, her entire body shaking in pleasure.

“Damn right it is.”

I pull my fingers out and make a show of licking her juices off them. She’s the perfect mix of sweet and sour, and if I could survive off her pussy, I’d eat her for every meal.

“I don’t give a fuck that you want to keep this marriage a secret. Every single part of you belongs to me, including your last name. Understood?”

“You sound like a caveman,” she sasses. “Feminists all over the world are rioting in protest.”

“If it makes any difference,” I tell her, leaning over and licking her lips, “I’m yours just as much as you’re mine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, reaching down and pulling my cock out of my pants. “How about you stop talking and start showing me just how much you’re mine?”

And because I need to make up for the fact that I won’t be taking her last name, I show her how much she owns me—twice.

---