I hear myself let out a small whimper, disappointed in the absence of his fingers. The throbbing between my legs is insistent, demanding his swift return. "Not yet?" I pout, but my momentary disappointment is erased as I watch my fiancé slowly disrobe.
He does it seductively. With excruciating slowness, he unbuttons the dress shirt he wore to his meeting earlier today. He's still managing the foundation he started several years ago, the one what assists struggling and deserving businesses as an angel investor. Despite his lack of formal college education, Caulter has a brilliant mind for business. And he looks the part, too, in his suit pants and collared shirt – the shirt that's now in a crumpled heap on the floor.
I watch as he slowly takes off the rest of his clothes, my breath hitching as he removes his pants and stands naked before me, his cock fully erect.
Even if I see Caulter naked every day, the sight never fails to make my heart skip a few beats in my chest.
I'm a lucky girl.
Caulter gives me that crooked grin of his. "Don't think I don't see the look in your eyes when you see this specimen of manhood in front of you."
I roll my eyes. He's right, but I'll never let him know that. "You're a specimen of something, that's for sure."
"Get your sweet little ass on that chair," he says, more teasing than demanding.
"My ass is hardly little anymore," I note. "What is this thing?" It's not a regular chair and certainly not a recliner, not with its elongated s-shape and narrow width.
"It's a sex chair." Caulter grins at me like he's inordinately pleased with himself.
"You got a sex chair?" I squeal. "That's your gift to me?"
"That's right," he says, pulling me toward the chair. He straddles it, a leg on either side, his back against the raised curve, and pulls me down to his lap, my back against him, inside me in one swift movement. "Now, tell me what you think of this gift."
CHAPTER TWO
Caulter
My fiancé.
My soon-to-be-wife.
Katherine Harrison.
The formerly stuck-up, too-nerdy-for-her-own-good girl from Brighton Academy who used to be the only thing about high school I'd look forward to every day. God, how I loved to get a rise out of her back then – I'd do anything I could to get those cheeks to flush bright red from embarrassment.
And back then, that happened on a daily basis.
Who would have thought that Katherine Harrison would be pregnant with my child? And that she would be marrying me in a few short weeks?
Who would have thought that Katherine Harrison would be sitting astride my rigid cock, grinding her * against me as my hands caress her swollen breasts?
She complains of their soreness, the fact that they've gotten several cup sizes larger in the past few months, and moans when I touch them now.
Whether she's vocalizing pain or pleasure, I'm not quite sure.
She rocks slowly on my cock, the movement subtle. Her * is swollen now, because of the pregnancy – warmer and tighter than before, wetter now for me.
Kate thinks she's become less attractive. She worries because she's gained weight and gotten stretch marks – but holy hell, I can't even explain how much more attracted to her I am now than I was before.
This woman who's riding me, who's making these little sounds – a cross between whimpering and moaning – has become someone other than the girl I fell in love with. Everything about her is more womanly than before – the way her curves have become full and round, her face radiant and glowing, her movements somehow softer and more sensual. I can't look at her without thinking of her in my bed, without wanting to bury my face between her legs and drink in her rich scent.
Everything about her has changed, yet everything is the same.
The pregnancy has changed the sex, too – she's ready, wanting me all the time, and wanting to try new things. She says it feels better, more intense, more alive. And that's why when she rides me now, her hair falling back down her shoulders, pushing me more deeply inside her, I come close to letting go.
Her warm wet * throbs around me. It pulls me in deeper, demanding my release, but I steel myself against it.
Not yet.
I wrap her hair around my hand, pulling her head back and sliding my arm across her chest, my fingers playing with her nipple the way I know she likes. Her * tenses immediately in response, and I know I have her. I breathe against her ear, whispering, knowing that the little hairs on the back of her neck will rise in response, that it will send goose bumps down her arms.
That it will bring her so close.
"Are you enjoying this gift, Kate?" I ask. "Because I've been thinking about how much I wanted you on it since I first saw it."
She groans her answer, the word unintelligible as she arches back, pressing her * down further on my rigid cock. I force myself not to come inside her, despite how ready she is for me. Despite how much I want to fill her up.
I tug her hair again, eliciting a squeal.
"Tell me, Kate," I say. "Tell me how much you love riding me."