Page 124 of My Husband Problem

He kisses my inner thigh, then kisses up to the crease of my hip, then to my belly, then up to the valley of my breasts, over my chest, up my neck, and finally to my mouth.

He presses first a soft kiss to my lips, then a harder, deeper one. Finally, he lifts his head and looks down at me where I’m splayed across my desk, boneless.

“You’re amazing,” he tells me.

He’s not freaking out, but he’s not saying it back.

And I realize I’m glad. This isn’t the right time for that. If he said it, I would question why.

I lift a hand and put it against his face. “Thanks for that. It’s exactly what I needed.”

He chuckles softly. “Interesting. It’s exactly what I needed too.”

I give him a huge grin. “I love discovering these things we have in common.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m thinking of something else I think we might have in common.”

“There are probably a lot of things.”

I smile, but say, “Do you think we would both like me giving you a blow job?”

He freezes. Goes completely still. He even stops breathing.

I keep my eyes on his, watching as my words sink in.

His throat works as he swallows. Finally, he says, “You don’t have to do that.”

Somehow, I knew something like that would be his response. “Thank you,” I tell him honestly. “But if I wanted to, you’d be okay with it?”

The muscles along his jaw tense, then he slowly nods. “Yes. I would.”

I grin and sit up, nudging him back. “That’s a great answer.” I straighten my shirt as I slide off the desk. I pull my panties up, then go to my knees.

I look up at him as I stroke over his hard length behind the fly of his very expensive dress slacks.

He undoes his buckle. “You sure about this?”

“Absolutely.” I stroke him again.

He sucks in a breath through his nose. Then unbuttons and lowers his zipper.

I wet my lips. I’m not exactly an expert in this. “Tell me what you like,” I say, looking up at him as I pull his briefs down.

“Anything, Firework.” His fingers tangle in my hair. “Fuckingeverythingwith you.”

I love making this man’s voice go to that gruff, lower tone. I take his cock in hand. His breath hisses out, and his fingers tug lightly on my hair, reflexively.

“I want to make you feel good the way you do me.” I stroke my hand up and down.

“I will.” He presses into my hand. “I already do.”

I smile. “Oh, I think I can do better than this.” I move my hand again. Then I lean in and lick over the head of his cock.

He groans.

I want more of that.