9. Eyes On Me, Queenie

9

EYES ON ME, QUEENIE

DARREN

S he rounds the desk, nervously peering through the glass into the heart of the campaign office. I grab onto her hips, sliding her in front of me, and she lets out a startled breath. She grips the edge of the desk while I explore her thigh with my fingertip.

“Did you wear this skirt for me?” I play with the edge of the material and feel her thigh tense.

“Yes,” she answers, her voice breathy.

I push her thighs apart. My hand glides under her skirt, and I find she’s wearing a lace garter belt. My stomach tightens. I suppress a groan, stretching the lace, and then look up at her.

“Is this for me, too?” I inquire.

Her lips part as she nods. I let out a labored breath as I brush a finger over her panties.

She nervously looks out into the office again.

“Eyes on me, Queenie.”

She snaps her head forward.

I hum as I play with the edges of her panties. “Has it been so long that you’ve lost your edge?” I ask, my eyes flicking to the office where the volunteers gather their things. There are still a few stubborn laggers reluctant to leave. I like their diligence when it comes to the campaign, but right now, I want them to leave so I can flip her over, press her cheek to the cheap laminate wood of this secondhand desk, run my hand over the plump softness of her ass, and sink into her.

“No,” she says. “It’s just—I’ve missed you.” She reaches for me, but I give her a look that causes her to retract her hand.

I wanted her to come back, and now that she has, I want to make her suffer for leaving me in the most delicious and tantalizing way. I want to punish her, the way that she punished me with her absence, but in the same breath I want to treasure her, worship her, drop to my knees and sink my tongue into her wet cunt so I can hear the way she moans when I make her come.

“Let’s see just how much you missed me.” I slide a finger under her panties and feel the slickness of her need. I nearly come in my pants when she shudders, her tight cunt gripping me while I slide a finger inside.

And then there’s her moan, an F sharp that rings through my office. Her thighs shake and her eyes flutter.

The door bangs open, and Evangeline stiffens as Angie’s head pokes inside.

“Hey, Dare, I wanted to go over the copy for the ad,” she proposes.

“Angela,” I say calmly while staring at my wife. “Go walk your dog.”

“Sorry?” she questions with a confused expression, none the wiser that my wife is about to come.

I flick my gaze to her. “Walk. Your. Dog,” I grit out, uncharacteristically. “And lock up on your way out.”

Angie looks embarrassed and shuts the door behind herself. I watch as she grabs her bag from her desk and herds a few stragglers out the door with her.

Evangeline is on the verge of falling apart. It’s beautiful—she’s beautiful—and I’ve missed her.

“Darren,” she mouths breathlessly, arching her back. Her breasts rise and fall in short bursts.

Instead of making her come, I flip her over—her body resting on the desk with her perfect ass in black lacy panties on display, and I lick my lips at the sight of her. I push her skirt higher.

Hurriedly, I unbuckle my belt, pulling the leather through the loops and holding it folded in my hands. I have never been into punishment, gotten off on spanking porn, but for a moment, with the milky white of her cheeks exposed to me, wicked thoughts travel through my mind. I drop the belt, and when it hits the floor with a clank, she jumps.

I don’t take her panties off but push them aside and sink into her.

Instant gratification was my old friend but I’m different now. I know how much sweeter it is to deny myself to the point of going mad because when you finally get the prize, it’s so much more intense.

I’ve waited three months—haven’t fucked in three months, and as torturous as it is, I move slow—deliberate—thrusting into her like a languorous kiss. Her cheek pressed to the wood, her eyes closed, an expression on her face that is both pain and pleasure, she wiggles and pushes against me, eagerly wanting more.

I oblige by reaching around and pressing a finger to her clit, making her moan louder, and I grab her hair, unable to resist any longer. I was never very good at resisting her.

It only takes a few hard, punishing thrusts, and I am gone to her—completely gone. She’s my home, my family, and I’m never letting her leave me again.