Page 112 of Mine to Worship

But angel, I am starved for you.

He’s a cunning man, and I am putty in his hands.

Is Greek okay?

Perfect.

I order to go, then head up to his office. When I open the door and step inside, he lifts his head from his laptop and I notice there’s a woman in the room. She greets me with a pleasant smile.

“Mrs. Reyes, nice to finally meet you. I am Mikaela, Kian’s executive assistant.”

Brandon’s constant complaints about her flash through my mind. So this is Mikaela. Blonde highlights bounce in her shoulder-length hair, and brown warm eyes. She wears elegant trousers with a ruffled top. We shake hands, and she says, “And congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

I look at Kian. He reads my confusion and lifts his shoulders. Clearly, he doesn't know why Brandon keeps complaining about her either. “You are free to go, Mikaela. Get something to eat. Meet me back here in an hour.”

She nods and leaves us alone. We move to the table and I set out the food.

“You look sexy when you give orders.”

“Do I now?” he retorts, a smirk appearing in the corners of his lips. “Hmm, but don’t tell my wife, she tends to get jealous.” He shakes his head at himself, eyes clouding. “I’m sorry. That was stupid to say.”

But we’re past that. Surely making a joke about our jealousy means we’re comfortable. I tilt my head and say teasingly, “The question is, is there any need for her to be?”

Relief lights up his face and he gives in to the playfulness. “No, I only have eyes for her.”

“Guess what?” I place my palms on his chest and bend over. “She knows.”

“I have a smart wife,” he says, pride etched in his eyes.

He pulls me onto his lap, kissing my belly. With one hand he caresses my stomach, with the other, he digs into the food. I wipe tzatziki from the corners of his lips with my thumb and taste it. His pupils dilate.

“You’re killing me here,” he groans.

“What? You had something there,” I tease. The more he growls, the more I overdo it until he snaps.

“That’s it! You asked for it,” he warns.

Kian stands up with me in his arms and puts me on his desk. He peels my dress off me, and I remain in only my bra and thong. Cupping my face with both hands, he kisses me breathless, then nibbles down my neck. I grip the edge of the desk.

I am hyper aware of him. Every touch ignites sparks of arousal and my body is like liquid clay. I’m mad with wanting more, everything, from him. He lifts my legs on the edge of the desk, spreads them. He drops to his knees, his head disappearing between my thighs.

“Fuck, how I have missed this pussy,” he says, his tone reverent. He kisses it, licking it from bottom to top.

I shudder and he takes his dick out, gliding it up and down my slit.

He puts only the tip inside and he growls while I throw my head back and moan. We entered the no more vaginal sex for us phase on the pregnancy a while ago so the slight penetration wreaks havoc on my hypersensitive body. With him sucking on my sensitive nipples, sensations skyrocket and the faintest touch topples me over. I come with a long moan.

He strokes himself in long, hard, speedy movements. I watch entranced, as his eyes dilate into dark orbits and his teeth pinch his lower lip. Every muscle in his body clams up, as his hand keeps moving up and down his cock.

With a groan, he erupts all over my thighs and pussy, and his free hand shoots to support himself on the desk. He catches his breath and I swallow the drool that gathered as I watched him pleasure himself until he came.

He grabs a napkin and cleans my thighs and pussy.

“That’s what happens when you are on edge. The barest touch sends you over.”

I prop myself on my elbows. “I liked it.”

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