My cock starts to twitch in my trousers when I see her roll her eyes, and I shift in my chair to alleviate the pressure of it pushing against my fly. She begins to turn away from the camera. I release a puff of built-up air and try to regulate my breathing. It doesn’t work. ‘Oooh Jesus help me.’
She slowly bends, pushing her pert bottom out, and the material of her Ralph Lauren trousers pulls taunt over her cheeks. Then all sorts of frantic activity happens in my trousers when she looks over her shoulder on a diminutive smile. ‘Bloody hell!’ I’m out of my chair and sprinting to the door in a flash, but I skid to a stop before I make it when something very serious escapes my notice in my urgency. I start pulling at my suit, desperately resisting the powerful urge to look at it. I smooth my collar, my tie, my sleeves – all in a vain attempt to avoid it. ‘Bollocks!’ I drop my head back and let it slowly fall to the side, my eyes landing on the wayward remote control before travelling across to my chair, which is positioned randomly, the seat still swivelling a little from the brute force of me flying up.
Leave them, leave them, leave them.
I can’t. My office is the only sacred place I have left.
I hurry over and swipe the control up, putting it its rightful place in the top drawer. ‘Perfect,’ I declare to myself, ready to fix my chair.
Knock, knock, knock.
My head whips up and for some unknown reason, I come over all guilty.
Then I hear her silky voice through the door. ‘I know what you’re doing!’ she sings, laughter only a fraction away from her tone. ‘Don’t forget your chair, baby.’
My eyes clench shut, like I can hide from my crimes. ‘There’s no need for insolence,’ I mutter, loving her and hating her all at once for knowing me so well.
‘With you, Miller Hart, there is. Open the door or I’ll let myself in.’
‘No!’ I yell, pushing my chair aggressively under my desk. ‘You know I like opening the door for you.’
‘Then hurry up. I have studying to do and a job to get to.’
I wander over to the door, pulling my suit into place and raking an annoyed hand through my hair, but when I take the handle, I don’t turn it. Something has just come to me. ‘Tell me you won’t snitch on me,’ I say, physically stopping myself from opening the door before she agrees. She’s like a magnet and with only a piece of wood between our close bodies, I can feel her luring me closer.
‘To your therapist?’ she asks, giggling, making my cock resume twitching in my trousers.
‘Yes. Promise you won’t make a big deal of it.’
‘I promise,’ she agrees easily. ‘Now let me taste you.’
I swing the door open and brace myself for her attack, laughing when her body crashes to mine before I’ve had the opportunity to absorb her in the flesh. My thing is brief before she’s kissing her way across my stubbled face and plunges her tongue into my mouth. ‘It might slip out accidently,’ she mumbles past my lips, nibbling and biting.
I cotton on to her way of thinking fast. I smile. ‘What will it cost me for your silence?’
‘A whole night of worshipping,’ she states with confidence and without delay.
‘You really don’t have a choice in the matter.’ I secure my arm around her tiny waist and carry her to my couch, sitting down and arranging her on my lap, all the while maintaining her wonderful hello kiss.
‘I don’t want one, so yes, this is a pointless discussion. I agree.’
‘Smart girl.’ I sound arrogant. I don’t care. ‘Thank you for stopping by, sweet girl.’
She rips her busy lips away, and I growl lowly, but soon forget my grievance when I’m presented with her flawless face and gorgeous hair. My fingers are instantly delving into the strands and twiddling. ‘You thank me every day like it’s my choice,’ she whispers.
I feel my eyebrows lift. ‘I never make you do anything that I know you don’t want to do,’ I remind her, relishing in that sassy scowl when it’s tossed in my direction. ‘Do I?’
‘Noooo,’ she says, drawing the word out on a long exasperated exhale. ‘But this one of your obsessive habits kind of interferes with my working day. I might see to it that your therapist tackles it next.’
I scoff. ‘She even tries, then I’ll no longer utilise her services.’ I can’t deny it. I have gained some more obsessive little ways, but I’ve dealt with many, too, so I shouldn’t be penalised. I should be rewarded.
She doesn’t hit me with her sass this time, though I can see she’s dying to. But even my perfect wife has figured out that no amount of her so-called therapy will see me wiping any obsessive habit that relates to her from my life. And anyway, I know she enjoys most of them. I don’t know why she tries to pretend she doesn’t, that I’m hampering her life.
Her lack of retort leaves silence and me time to absorb her, which I do with the greatest of pleasure. I really haven’t laid my eyes on anything so perfect in all of my life. I correct myself on a smile when the most adorable little boy settles at the front of my mind.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asks on a little cock of her beautiful head.