OVERTIME
Peter Richards pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and stared at his laptop. With his computer open to the kinky social media website he maintained, he stared at Kat’s page. His wife’s page. Ever since her novel was published, she’d been so busy doing this and that for promotion and publicity. From blog posts to free stories, she’d been dedicated to using every non-working hour into putting herself out there.
Peter sighed and raised his eyebrows. Putting a lot of herself way out there.
He stared at the latest set of photos she’d released and gritted his teeth. He rolled his shoulders and tried to relax his suddenly tense muscles.
So she was naked in the photos?
It wasn’t a big deal.
Or it really shouldn’t have been.
He didn’t want it to be.
But he just couldn’t stop staring at the pictures of Kat laid bare, imagining the hundreds — thousands — hell, infinite number — of men out there on the internet who were staring at her too. At his wife. His Katherina.
His jaw clenching, he rubbed a hand over an inexplicable ache in his chest.
He didn’t know why he cared so much. It wasn’t as if he was the kind of man who thought he owned her just because they were married. And, sure, they played power exchange games. He was her Dom and she was his sub. But he would never presume to think he owned her. Not for real.
It was her body; only she got to decide how she wanted to present it. She had every right to celebrate it, to showcase her beauty and share it with the world.
And it wasn’t even like she was naked naked. She was…strategically nude. Seated at very deliberate angles. Hidden behind precisely placed props. Her long, thick, dark hair draped over her beautiful, saison-shaded skin, offering the slightest peeks at her pretty, petite body. The pictures were erotically tantalizing without actually showing anything.
The photos were objectively beautiful. More about the enticing look in her lovely eyes, the slant of her slyly smiling lips, and the blush sweetly coloring her cheeks, than her nudity anyway. Living on the sun-loving coast, he saw more scandalous wear walking down the beach every day.
But, goddamn it, he couldn’t get the idea of some random, horny man stroking himself to her image out of his head. His greedy gaze tracing the soft swell of her breasts. Trailing along the subtle sweep of her waist and hips, the skin there taut and tan and sweet. Hungrily caressing the full curve of her absolutely perfect ass.
Peter’s throat constricted. That faceless man’s hand would grip his mouse hard, even as his other hand’s grasp tightened on his straining cock. That stranger’s heart would race and his mouth water as he wondered at Kat’s feel and touch and taste. Peter’s mind swam with the myriad of moves and acts all those men would imagine doing to his wife.
Peter closed the site.
He just couldn’t look at it anymore. Not without going insane. It felt too much like sharing her — sharing the innermost intimacy of her, few beyond him ever got to see — with unknowably countless viewers. As if that intangible, grabby gaze were taking something from her. From him.
He grumbled and swiveled in his chair before looking at the clock. This line of thought was stupid — he did know that — and it was late. Nearly 9:00.
Huh, Kat should have been home hours ago.
Where was she?
His jaw jutting, he fought the urge to sulk. It felt like he never saw her anymore. She was always at work these days or off doing book stuff or promotion stuff. And, even when she was home, she was either sleeping or snapping at him. He just felt so distant from her. Like she was slipping away from him. Bit by bit every day.
Frustrated, Peter stood up and strode away from his computer. Moving to lean against his bookshelves, he glared at his desktop. He hated that he felt like just another guy jerking it to her pictures; it felt as if those digital images were the only time he got to really see his wife now too.
And, God, how bitterly insecure did that make him sound? Sighing, he shook his head and ran his hands through his hair.
This was why he hadn’t said anything to Kat. He just couldn’t tell her how he felt. It was just so pathetic. And it was his problem, not hers. It was something he had to work out. On his own. Because she didn’t need to be burdened with his fucked-up issues. Especially when she had enough things stressing her out without adding in his sad insecurities.
He looked at the clock and frowned, worry creeping in uneasily. It really was late. Kat should have been home by now. Digging in his pocket for his phone, he dialed her number. He thought about her stuck in traffic, tired and stressed. Or, God forbid, still trapped at her office, drowning in work. He sighed and ran his other hand through his hair, tugging at the strands, as he stared out his kitchen window at the dark night falling over the ocean.
He waited as the line rang, holding his breath until she picked up. He just wanted to talk to her. To hear her voice. To feel some kind of connection with her. He just wanted to know when she’d be home again.
Because, God, he missed her.
———
Kat Valdez-Richards sat hunched over at her desk, her tired eyes watering as she stared unblinking at her computer. She groaned and pushed her long, dark hair out of her eyes before looking at the time in the corner of her screen.
9:38.
Almost ten at night and she was still here in the empty office — even the cleaning staff had left her by now — not even close to finishing the massive amount of work her boss had dumped on her desk this morning. Right on top of the ever-growing mountain of work that he’d been steadily forming for more than a week already.
She closed her burning eyes and sighed. She’d been staring at columns and rows and pages upon pages of numbers for more than twelve hours now.
It was punishment. She knew it. Administrative limbo. A wild goose chase that her boss, Stan, was torturing her with until either he could think of a fireable offense to go to HR with or Kat quit. It was the only explanation.
Her job, even under normal circumstances, wasn’t glamorous or exciting or even all that satisfying. It was a paycheck. A job that she was qualified for and could do pretty effortlessly and without much taxing thought.
Until Stan decided to send her on impossible searches for needle-in-a-haystack invoices and correspondences that no one cared about and didn’t really matter. Decided to bury her in multi-yearly reports and novels of hand-scribbled notes from nearly a decade ago. Decided to drive her insane with hunts for missing, misfiled affidavits and games of outdated contact tag.
She hadn’t even had time to take lunch in forever, since Stan was constantly pulling her into meetings and conference calls that she had nothing to do with right around her lunch hour all week. More often than not, she dashed to work more than an hour early, coffee still in hand after a very forgettable breakfast, only to work eleven, twelve, sometimes fourteen hours a day, before coming home to a cold dinner and an already asleep husband.
She sighed and grabbed her mouse. Peter. God, she missed Peter. She barely saw her husband these days. If he wasn’t already sleeping by the time she got home, she was too tired to do more than shovel barely re-heated leftovers into her mouth and fall into bed unconscious. The few times when he’d tried to talk to her, to offer comfort and support, she’d grumbled almost unintelligible, aggravated words at him while shoving him away.
She didn’t mean to. God knew, she didn’t want to push him away. But she was just so tired. Tired and stressed out. To the point where comfort and support were too much to deal with. Where her husband — the love of her life — was just one too many things on her plate.
And she hated the fact that was true. Kat shut her eyes and laid her head on her desk for a moment.
She should just quit.
She didn’t want to be here and her boss certainly wanted her gone.
“Kat?” she heard a familiar voice say in the shadowed emptiness of her office. “Are you still here?”
Peter? Her head popped up. “I’m here.” She stood to look over her cubicle’s partition. She saw him, looking like a buttoned-up and bespectacled miracle, lost in the darkened maze of cubicles as he made his way to her, the smell of Mexican food wafting deliciously with him. Her very own alter-ego-ed superhero. “What are you doing here?”
“I got worried.” He adjusted his glasses, still juggling his keys and the bag of takeout. “It was getting late and you weren’t home yet and you weren’t answering your phone.”
She dug into her purse and found her phone. Dead. That’s right; she’d meant to charge it last night, but was too tired to search for her charger. She shook her head and dropped the useless device back into her bag. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s after nine.” He frowned. “Let’s go home.” Lifting the heavenly scented takeout bag in his hand, he dangled the bag enticingly. “You can eat in the car. I’ll draw a bath when we get home, give you a massage, and we can head to bed.”
God, that was tempting. She closed her eyes and let her mind wallow — for just a moment — in what it would be like to do just that. “I can’t.” The words felt like sand — sharp, gritty glass — that tore at her as she spoke. “I need to finish this before I can go.”
He sighed, shoving his hand into his cargo pants pocket, his keys and whatnot clinking. “Well, how long will that take?”
She shrugged. “Hopefully, only another hour or so.” But it could be all night.
Peter’s brow furrowed. “Kat, it’s late. Whatever you’re working on will still be here tomorrow and you’ll be able to tackle it better after some sleep.” He reached out his hand. “Come home.”
She shut her eyes. She wanted to. So badly she wanted to cry with it. But she wouldn’t. She was better than that. She wouldn’t let this — wouldn’t let her boss — get to her like that. “I can’t,” she repeated, “I appreciate you coming here and bringing me food, but I can’t leave.” She grabbed the food from him, hoping that would at least make him feel like he was helping. “I’ll see you at home later.”
His hazel eyes narrowing, he studied her curiously from behind his lenses. “Why are you doing this?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned to rest his hip against a nearby desk.
“What do you mean?” She put the bag down on her own desk even as her food-and-sleep-deprived body began to shake.
“You hate your job.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t hate my job.”
“You hate your boss,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Yet you’re working late every night, killing yourself for a job you’d leave in a minute, if you thought you could.”
Kat pursed her lips. She wanted to argue with him, but what could she say? “Well, what am I supposed to do?” She slouched back into her office chair. “Stan is just looking for a reason — any reason — to fire me.” She grabbed fistfuls of her hair and pulled it back into a harsh ponytail, the tense tug comforting her a bit, before she let it tumble back down to shield her face.
“Why?” He gave a shake of his head and grabbed her cubemate’s chair, so he could sit next to her.
Her shoulders slumped as she held her head in her hands and sighed. “I think he found my author’s page on your site.”
She heard Peter inhale sharply. “How?”
She shook her head. She didn’t know. Through a friend. Through his wife or his teenage son. Maybe through his own online porn perusal. “Does it matter?”
“What did he say when he told you?” Peter’s wince was audible through his voice.
She shook her head. “He hasn’t.” Not overtly. Not yet.
Peter paused. “Then how do you know?”
She scoffed and peeked up at him ruefully. “There’s a very specific look a man gives you when he’s seen you naked,” she drawled, recalling the photos — fun, sexy, and, yes, seminude pictures — she’d had taken and posted. With pride.
Until Stan’s gaze had tainted them. Had made the playful pictures seem dirty and shameful as he eyed her from head to toe with disgusted censure. Even fully dressed in her prim, proper office clothes, she felt stripped bare by his gaze.
She’d loved her photos. Loved taking them. Loved posting them. Loved the enthusiastic response to the teasing shots. She hated that she couldn’t look at them now without feeling that disapproving look on Stan’s pinched face. “I don’t think he liked them very much.”
“Or enjoyed them more than he would have liked,” Peter pointed out as he sat back, his arms crossed over his buttoned-down chest.
Kat’s lip curled. “At any rate, I’m stuck here until I finish all this.” Her hand gestured to the insurmountable paperwork piled on her desk. “Or his little crusade is done.” She shot him a dark look. “Which do you think will come first?”
“Or you quit.” Even as she shook her head, he grabbed the edges of her chair and pulled her close. “You could just leave.”
“And do what?” She couldn’t leave this job. If Stan wanted to fire her because of her online page, what were the chances that someone would be willing to hire her despite it? If he found out, others would. And while she wasn’t ashamed of it — wouldn’t let that tight-assed fuddy-duddy suck the joy out of it — she couldn’t exactly hide. She’d put herself — her body, her thoughts, her words — out there online. For better or worse.
And, sure, she loved writing and maintaining her page, but it wasn’t as if it paid her well. With just one book out, her sales, even if they were higher than she’d thought they would be, weren’t exactly a livable wage. She sighed. “I need this job.” She shook her head. For better or worse, indeed.
“Why?” Peter shook his head. “I’m doing well, Kat. My business is growing and thriving. I make enough to take care of both of us, if we cut out some of our luxuries,” he amended with a dismissive shrug. He shook his head. “You could quit this job — that you hate anyway — and write. Full-time. Really give it a go, if it’s what you want.”
Kat shook her head. She couldn’t do that. “I won’t be dependent on anyone.” She stiffened, squaring her jaw. Not financially or otherwise. “Not even you.” She might be his wife — she might be his submissive — but she would not be some kind of burden on him or leave herself so vulnerable.
She didn’t make as much as him — wasn’t even close to being in the same income bracket. But, heaven forbid, if she ever lost him — ever found herself alone again — she would survive. If she quit, learned to live off what Peter could provide, could she say the same?
She shook her head. “I’m not quitting.” God, the words sounded petulant even to her own ears. She didn’t care. She hated that she felt so powerless. So weak. So at the mercy of everyone all around her. She was tired of feeling like Stan’s bookkeeping bitch. Even feeling like Peter’s little woman that always needed to be taken care of and coddled was grating at the moment. She was just so tired of having everyone else control what she did and felt and thought. Her entire life was reactionary, responding to the demands and desires of everyone around her.
Except her book. And her page. Those were hers. And, damnit, she’d worked hard for them. She finally did something for herself — that didn’t belong to anyone but her — and she’d be damned if she’d let her boss think he could punish her for it.
She might be a submissive — a bottom — but she decided who topped her and who didn’t.
And she chose Peter.
“Well,” he sighed as he leaned forward to grab the bag of food off her desk, “you can at least take a break.” He shook his head and held it out to her again. “C’mon, Kat, you’ve got to eat.”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes meeting his hazel ones, seeing his concern turn curious. “Kat?” he questioned as her lips curled defiantly.
She shook her head and pushed herself up out of her chair. Taking the bag from him, she set it aside again. “I don’t want food.” She came to stand between his legs, nudging his knees apart to make room for her. Her voice was low, teasing, even as her body swayed with sensual sass.
Peter’s lip twitched, recognition flaring hot in his eyes. “What do you want then?” He leaned back even as his hips arched up a bit, not so subtly leading her gaze downward to the bulge rising beneath his pants.
What did she want? She bit her lip. Him. That much she knew. She always wanted him. Couldn’t imagine not wanting him.
She looked around, still worrying her lip. The question, at the moment, was how did she want him?
He lifted a shoulder. “We could do it on your boss’s desk.”
She snorted. That was so cliché. Besides — no matter how dirty Stan thought her pictures were — she knew he was the dirty one. His desk was always littered and stained with years’ worth of delivered lunches and the endless coffees she’d fetched over the years. Used tissues and napkins were always mixed in with his paperwork. His desk was a mess and the thought of being naked on it was enough to put her off sex. She wrinkled her nose. “Uh, no, that’s okay.”
The conference table on the other hand…
She smiled and took Peter by the hand, leading him from her cubicle into the conference room. Yeah, she thought, as she stepped into the large room. It was a commanding space, where all the important announcements and meetings happened. From the time she’d been hired, this had been the room where every important professional moment happened and, if she were honest, it’d always intimidated her a little.
It was perfect.
“Kat?” A confused laugh touched his voice while she sat him down at the head of the conference table. The seat of power. The one always reserved for the president of the company. “What are you up to?”
She pushed him back into the chair. It was strange to be taller than Peter, to be above him. It wasn’t that Peter was a particularly tall man. It was just that Kat was particularly short. Just barely five foot, she rarely got to look down at anyone.
She smiled.
She liked it.
———
Peter sat back in the chair, staring up at his wife grinning down at him. God, she was beautiful. Smiling her knowing, little smirk, she swiveled her hips and danced about him, taunting and teasing him with strokes of her hands on his shoulders and brushes of her ass over his lap.
He moved to reach for her, wanting to pull her fully onto his lap, to feel those grinding hips hard on his. But she just pulled away and tsked, shaking a scolding finger at him. “Katherina?” He wondered what she was planning. Lord knew, he was more than ready to get this show going.
“Patience, Peter.” Eying him coyly, she pushed on the table to jump onto its surface. But her pencil skirt was too tight, making the movement awkwardly impossible. He chuckled low as he watched her grin turn sheepish as she reached behind her to unzip the constricting cloth.
But he stopped laughing when she slipped the skirt past her knees, stepping out of it to stand in just a long shirt that hung half-way down her thighs, knee-high sheer stockings, and matching lace garters. He held his breath while she slid smoothly onto the table, placing one foot on either side of his chair.
He swallowed hard as her feet framing his hips planted in the chair’s cushion to pull him closer, revealing the shadowy place between her thighs as her knees bent high. “Uh, Katherina,” he pointed out, “you’re not wearing panties.”
“No.” Her feet moved up to wrap around the sides of the chair, pulling him closer and offering him a fantastic view of her full, pink pussy. “I’m not.” She reached for the buttons of her shirt. “I’m not wearing a bra either.”
“Naughty girl.” He tsked as she popped the first button, revealing the smooth span of her throat and breastbone.
“Yeah.” She laughed as his gaze roamed her body. “It sounds dumb but, when Stan’s being particularly prickish, it’s just a bit of rebellion being a little risqué at work.”
“Mmm,” Peter murmured approvingly. “Not dumb at all.” He liked her rebelliously risqué. “Wait.” His eyes widened as she reached for the button between her breasts. “Wait.” He fished into his back pocket for his phone. He held it up, aiming its camera at her.
Kat squealed and pulled her stockinged knees closed and tight to her chest. “Peter!” she cried. “You can’t take pictures. Not here.”
He grinned, his phone’s camera focusing on her, and stared at her cringing body through the lens. “Why not?”
“This is my workplace!” She squealed shrilly and clasped the collar of her shirt shut. “I can’t have half-naked pictures of me in my workplace.”
“Well, I was kinda hoping for fully naked ones anyway.”
“Peter!”
“C’mon, Kat,” he urged. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like anyone else is going to see them.” These were just for him. For them. Peter felt something in his chest unclench at that thought. The idea that no one else would ever see this part of Katherina. That this moment belonged just to them. He zoomed in close on her face and snapped a photo before turning the phone so she could look at the screen.
Could see the wide depths of her night sky eyes. Could see the way her full lips moued as if for a kiss. Could see the excited flush of her cheeks. Could see the beautiful lines of her face.
Could see herself the way he saw her. Beautiful. Sexy. Perfect. He wanted to capture this moment. To keep it forever in photos. “C’mon, Katherina,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Do it for me.” For them both. “Think of it as really sticking it to Stan.”
She bit her lip and stared at his phone, her face set in uncertain lines even as her body relaxed and her hands loosened their grip on her shirt. “Okay.” Her voice was soft but intrigued. That’s it, Kat. There was the defiant girl he knew. She puffed out her chest and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
He smiled and leaned back as she unbuttoned her shirt, letting its halves frame her delicate form. He aimed his camera on her again. “That’s it.” He took her picture. Just in those stockings and garters, she was gorgeous, the hottest sight he could imagine. Her small breasts were firm and round. Her dark nipples were hard. The slight nip of her waist drew his eye before his gaze traced where her hips flared delicately. “Get up on the table.” Mmmm, yeah. “On your knees.”
He watched as she bent her knees beneath her, the submissive in her instinctually spreading her knees — opening herself to him — and lay her hands palms up on her knees. His dick hardened at the contradictory image of her so submissive in front of him even as she towered over him, looking down at him with such hunger in her eyes.
She was slipping into subspace. He could see it in her dazed expression and the way her breath quickened. He swallowed hard as he stood up so they were eye-to-eye.
Or eye to lens, as it was.
“Turn around.” He walked about her, looking for just the right angle. “I want to see that ass.”
He watched her bend over onto her hands and knees. He bit back a groan as her sleek, little body crawled and squirmed around so he could look at that round, upturned ass. Yes. He zoomed in his camera, taking picture after picture of her, before he put the phone onto the table with shaking hands that longed to touch.
“God, Katherina.” He reached out to trace the line of her garters, feeling the soft skin of her thighs. “You are so amazing.” His hands slid up her leg to coast over her lush, round behind. “I love this ass.” He let his fingers trail along the edge of the garter’s belt, dipping along and over the curve of her bottom. “The look of it. The feel of it. The things I could do to it.”
“What could you do?” Her tone was both curious and just a little daring.
His mind swam with the possibilities. He smiled and cupped the full flesh. “What do you want me to do to it?” He breathed deep, savoring the sensual potential in his hands.
He watched her turn to look at him, licking her lips as her words formed on her tongue. “Uh,” she breathed, slicking her mouth again, “I, uh.”
“Tell me, Katherina.” He wanted to hear her say it. He loved, more than anything, to hear her tell him exactly what she wanted, what turned her on. How he could turn her on. “Tell me.”
“Spank me.” A pretty blush flushed her face. “I,” she swallowed hard and said a little louder, “I want you to spank me.”
He chuckled and rubbed her butt, patting it sweetly. “You want to be spanked?” He grabbed her hips and pulled her down so her feet touched the carpet even as her stomach and breasts pressed onto the table’s shined surface. “You want me to smack this pretty, little ass?” He caressed and massaged her behind. “You want to feel my handprints — hot and stinging — all over your skin?”
“Yes.” She hissed as he pinched her flesh. “Please.”
Well, she did say please. So Peter pulled back his hand and struck her left flank, loving how her body bounced and a small squeak escaped her mouth.
“Again,” she begged.
Again and again. He hit her right flank, then her left again. He kept smack her in a rapid, steady rhythm he knew she loved, watching her body writhe her hips seeking and shying away from his touch. Responding to him with electric heat, with both their needs meeting and matching with each stinging strike.
His own breath was ragged and his heart was pounding. He stopped and stepped closer to her, cupping her ass in his hands, feeling her sensitive heat against his tingling hands. Kat and he had been playing these games for years now. Had used a treasure chest of toys. But there was something about the basic act of spanking — of flesh meeting flesh — that Peter loved. That could never be replaced. There was simply something so intimate about it, the ultimate shared action.
He could feel her warmth, could feel her shake with desire, against the raw nerves in his hands. He leaned down and kissed the base of her spine, just above the rise of her ass. “God, Katherina,” he growled as he took a nip at the ripe flesh, “you drive me crazy.” His hand slipped down between her legs to stroke her sex. “You’re so hot,” he purred, “and wet.” His fingers dipped between her folds, coating his fingers in her thick, fragrant arousal. “I love how wet you get for me.” He slid his fingers inside her, slowly filling her as she moaned low and sweet. He licked the top of her ass, gliding his tongue from one cheek across the other. “I want you to come for me.” He used his whole body to press her further against the table, grinding his hard erection against her hip. “You want to come for me, don’t you, Katherina?”
“Yes, Peter,” she begged, her voice a breathy, reedy sound.
“Good.” He pulled his fingers from her cunt even as she whimpered at the loss of his touch. He kissed her back again before straightening. Don’t worry, Kat, he thought. He wasn’t done with her yet. Not even close.
He slid his foot between hers and gently kicked her feet further apart even as his hands parted the soft globes of her ass. He stared at her tight opening and bit back a groan. Just imagining the tight grip of her ass on his cock made his body stiffen with want. “I want to slide into that pretty ass.” His voice strained with need as he tucked one slick finger at her anus, letting it slip inside her knuckle by knuckle, “teasingly fill you up with my dick so slowly you’ll be begging me to pound into you. Ride your ass until you come, hard and pulsing on my cock.” With agonizing slowness, he began to push and pull his finger within her with short, easy strokes. “You want that, don’t you, Kat? You want my dick here.” He shoved his finger hilt-deep into her, watching her body take him easily. “Or my tongue.” He pulled out of her only to add another finger, twisting both inside her as she gasped and bucked against his hands. He gripped her hip and rubbed, urging her to relax. “Wouldn’t you like that?”
He felt her ass clench on his fingers before he felt her relax again. Good girl. He caressed her behind again, making her whimper and push onto his hand. Good girl. “Tell me you want that.” His fingers fucked her, the steady rhythm mimicking the same one he’d used to spank her. “Give me the words.”
“I want your cock inside me.” Her voice was shaky and thin. Her back arched and her hips thrust. “I want to feel you deep inside me. Fucking me hard.”
“What else do you want?” God, he loved the sound of her voice as she gasped, struggling to speak while pleasure shook her control.
“I want to feel you, hot and heavy, over me.” Her breath hitched and her ass clasped his fingers again. Hard. She was close to coming, he could tell. “I want to feel you sweat and strain as you feel my body hold and hug your hard shaft.”
“What else?” He gripped her harder, his fingers working her harder and faster pushing her closer to her edge.
“I want you to come inside of me, Peter,” she said in a hot hiss, the words a hot grip on his gut, practically a stroke on his cock.
He shut his eyes against a shudder of pleasure. It didn’t matter how long he knew her, how far they went, how much they did together, he would just never get used to hearing her sweet, innocent voice say the filthiest fantasies to him. Goddamn it, Kat.
Peter pulled his fingers from her ass as he struggled for control.
———
Kat squirmed when his fingers slid out of her, stroking her sensitive skin even as he left her feeling empty. She’d been so close to coming. Just a few more thrusts of his fingers. A slap to her ass. A touch to her clit. Anything. She’d have come, but instead she felt wild and craving. “Peter.” She wriggled her ass at him.
“You’ve got quite a way with words, don’t you, Katherina?” His own voice sounded ragged and on edge. “What am I going to do with you?”
She shook her head. She didn’t know. But she wished, whatever he was going to do, he’d do it soon. “Please, Peter.” She swiveled her hips restlessly. “I need you.”
He frowned miserably. “I don’t have lube, Kat.”
Sure, she thought ruefully. It wasn’t as if he knew he’d have her ass-up and begging for his cock when he’d set out to bring her dinner. She huffed, the aching emptiness inside her unbearable. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the desire to say she didn’t care.
Because, as much as she wanted him, she knew her own limits. Anal without lube; she shuddered at the thought. She might want him, more than anything, but she didn’t want that.
She straightened when she heard him reach for his belt, the unbuckling metal loud in her head. She swallowed hard. “Uh, Peter?”
She heard him pull the long length of leather free from its loops. “Shhh, Katherina.” Felt his hand press her shoulders down onto the table again. “Just relax for me.”
Kat’s eyes widened as her body stiffened against the now cold surface on her warmed skin.
“Relax.” He rubbed her lower back. “I know just what you need.”
She shut her eyes. Yes. This was what she wanted. What she needed. To give herself over to something bigger. Bigger than her job. Bigger than her boss. Bigger than her. To overwhelm herself with sensation.
With Peter.
“Ready, Katherina?”
She took one more fortifying breath before nodding. She shut her eyes and let herself slip further into headspace.
Kat cried out as she felt the leather’s lash on her ass, the sting both surprising and a relief across her cheeks. The hot mark felt electric on her skin as it spread over her body, sending adrenaline and endorphins racing through her. God! That was good.
“More, Katherina?” He smacked the belt against his thigh.
“Yes.” She pushed her ass out eagerly. God, yes, this was what she needed. Distantly, she wondered how it was Peter always seemed to know. Was able to read her so well.
But then all thought was wiped away when he struck her again and again with his belt. On her ass. Her thighs. From side to side. Over and over, she got lost in his beat. Let the chemicals raging inside take her. Let the heat and rush of it drive her. She bit her lip and her toes curled, her knees beginning to shake. She was so close, she could feel her climax speed toward her.
“C’mon, Kat.” He aimed the belt for her sweet spot, just beneath the curve of her ass. “Come.”
Her back arched and she cried out, her tense arms pushing her up and back as she blinked blindly, wildly. Her orgasm rocked her, shaking her stiff body, before leaving her limp. She sunk back onto the table weakly.
“Good girl,” she heard Peter murmur as she felt his hand rub gentle circles over her back and shoulders. “Good girl.”
She smiled and settled her boneless weight onto the hard, cold surface. She tried to move, tried to squirm this way and that. But with the table’s hard edge digging into her stomach, she just couldn’t get comfortable. And she was just too drained — from all the fitful nights and the stressful days as much as the mind-numbing orgasm — to find the energy to push off the cool surface holding her up. She just couldn’t move from this spot, no matter how much she wanted to.
She heard Peter chuckle a bit before she felt his hands at her waist. “C’mere, Kat.” He lifted her, shaky-kneed and tired, onto his lap. Gratefully, she curled and snuggled against him, taking comfort from him while she wrapped her limbs around him.
Oh, Peter. “I love you,” she whispered against his neck.
“I love you too.” He wrapped his arms around her. He took a deep breath and nodded as if coming to some kind of decision. “And, whatever you want — whatever you need — that’s what I want for you.”
Whatever she wanted.
If she only knew what that was.
She bit her lip and snuggled closer, feeling his hard-on beneath her. She fought a yawn and looked up at him. “What about you?” She pointedly pressed her sensually sore behind against him. “What about what you want?” Pulling her arm free, she reached for his pants.
He stopped her by closing his hands over hers. “You’re tired, Kat.”
“I can still — ”
“No.” He gave her a quick kiss to halt her words. “Don’t finish that sentence; I’m trying to be good here and you’re just a little too good at tempting me.”
She tried to speak again, but was cut off with another kiss. “You’re tired,” he repeated as he kissed and nibbled at her neck. “And I want — what I really want — is to take you home. I want to tuck you into our bed and hold you all night.” He stroked her face before cupping her cheek so she looked into his hazel eyes. “And, as much fun as this was, I want you to promise me: no more late nights.” He tilted his head acknowledgingly. “I know that this job is important to you and, if you want to stay, I’m behind you. One-hundred percent.” His lips tightened as he fought not to frown. “But you’re important to me and,” he said sadly, the loneliness in his hazel eyes breaking her heart, “I miss you.”
Kat sighed and kissed him. “Let’s go home.” She stood up, pulling him up with her. The smile on his face making her chest swell. She turned around to grab his phone off the desk. She tossed it in the air before pocketing it, feeling better than she had in days.
Taking his hand in hers, Kat led Peter back to her cubicle to grab her things and the food that, even cold, sounded delicious at the moment. As she shut down her computer, she glared at the massive pile of pointless paperwork her spiteful, prudish prick of a boss had left her.
With a snort, she pushed away from her desk and grabbed her purse. Maybe she’d call in sick tomorrow. Spend a lazy morning with Peter before looking at their finances, her savings, and the local job listings. Just to see. Just to figure out if what she wanted — financial independence and self-reliance — and what she really needed — Peter and a sense of control in her life — could exist together. Because she shouldn’t have to choose between the two. Especially not for someone like Stan.
She turned to her husband and smiled. “Just let me lock up, then we can head home.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder as she curled hers around his waist. It amazed her how whole that simple act made her feel. She giggled when he squeezed her tight against his side before they walked out of the dark, empty, cold office. “Sounds good.”
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