by Jamie Knight
Of course I said yes!
There was absolutely no question in my mind.
I had never wanted anyone the way I wanted him.
This was followed by a night of our usual hot sex.
The way he ravaged me still gives me chills when I think about it.
I'm really starting to enjoy the rough passionate love making we share, though the gentle nights are not to be overlooked.
Those capture the sweet aspects of our love so perfectly.
The day of my dreams finally arrived. I married Matt with a church wedding in Napa. It was a small, intimate ceremony, yet so beautiful. I never wanted a big wedding. I'm too shy for stuff like that.
We both cried a little as we recited our vows. Matt's were so sweet and touching. I loved that my strong, handsome alpha man could be sweet and sensitive with me.
Even though we say it plenty, it's always nice when your partner announces how they feel about you out loud. I was a little worried about this day because I know most guys are afraid of marriage and committing to a woman, especially given Matt had a reputation for being a player.
But all of that is behind him now, and he made me the happiest woman in the world again by being ready to settle down. Actually, he proved that when he proposed and initiated the conversation about planning our wedding. I still can't believe that I was lucky enough to meet a man as wonderful as him.
The wedding day is getting more exciting because we are now headed for our safari honeymoon. Even though we had a brief ceremony and celebration with everyone, Matt was eager for us to be alone together again, like when we first got started dating.
I couldn't agree with him more. Those were some of my favorite days of our relationship. The weeks locked up with each other were how I got to know him and discover just how much I really loved him.
We are sitting next to each other on the plane in our first-class seats. The stewardess just brought us our drinks. I eagerly take a sip of mine. I have a book on my lap. I'm not in the mood to read, though.
I'm anxious about flying, which I always am, but I'm more excited about the honeymoon. Not only do I get to be alone with Matt, but I've always wanted to travel and see different parts of the world. A safari is also a great way to see animals. I can't wait.
Matt interrupts my thoughts by leaning over and whispering in my ear.
"I can’t help getting hard any time I am in enclosed spaces with you."
His words make me laugh because I remember that was how it all started between us.
"Behave. There are other people in the plane here with us," I reprimand him playfully.
He pretends to pout as he says, "Just for the torture of wearing a short dress and teasing me, I am going to make you beg for it when we get there." I smirk at him then reply, "Don't forget I know how to make you beg for it too." He goes back to sitting silently, but he's smiling at me too. I love when we play like this with each other.
Finally we arrive in Africa. All playfulness is forgotten in the excitement. We grab our bags and step off the plane.
The views from the surrounding areas by the airport are gorgeous. We are both in awe. There is a shuttle that will take us to our hotel, and we hurry with our bags to catch it.
We check in at the hotel and are given their best suite since it's our honeymoon. Once in the room, we start unpacking and going through our luggage. I however am constantly distracted by the sights out the window.
Matt startles me by tapping me lightly on the shoulder. I whirl around to see him standing there with a small, tissue-paper-wrapped item.
"I got you a gift," he says.
I reach for it, then suddenly remember something.
"I have a gift for you too!" I exclaim happily.
I dig through my bag, then walk back to him once I find it. We exchange surprises with a smile, then sit on the bed together to open them. I feel like a little kid at Christmas.
I wasn't expecting a gift or anything, even though I got him one. I was just excited about traveling and being on my honeymoon.
I see that his gift is a notebook that includes notes about why he’s so happy he married me.
I laugh softly and say, "This is the most perfect gift ever."
He smiles at me, then opens my gift. Funnily enough, it’s similar to his. I wrote notes about all the reasons I am so glad that I am with him. All the bad things on the old list, I turned into something positive.
I see him read through about how his intimidating manners actually keep me safe. Also, how tall he is turns me on, and helps me out around the house. Plus, I feel protected with him. He looks at me like he's melting inside. He puts the notebook away and reaches for me.
"I love you," he whispers, then kisses me passionately.
My body responds instantly.
"I love you too," I reply breathlessly.
We start undressing each other frantically. My dress is short enough that I can just hike it up and climb into his lap. I moan as he sucks on my neck.
He undoes the buttons of my dress, and my breasts come popping out. He kisses and licks them, playing with each nipple.
I hope he doesn't actually intend to make me beg. I don't think I can handle it today. I want him so bad. I can feel his erection beneath me. I gently grind on it. He groans against my breast.
I can feel his fingers slide inside of me, to test me. As he moves them around, I become instantly wet. Satisfied, he throws me lightly against the bed. I gasp in delight. I open my legs as he pulls off his pants and moan as he slides inside of me. I'm so ready.
"There you go, baby," he whispers at me.
I'm too overwhelmed to speak. He thrusts and thrusts, like a man possessed. It feels more incredible than ever. This is probably the most I have ever called out his name. I can be as loud as I want, because we are alone together, in another part of the world.
"Give me everything you have," I tell him, just like I did a year ago.
I want it so bad, and I also know that it turns him on when I say that. We are both sweating hard, but I want him to go faster and deeper. I want my body to always know that he has been there.
“You know I will,” he says, spanking my ass some.
“Ouch!” I call out.
“You know you love it when your boss spanks you for being bad,” he says. “When your husband disciplines his wife.”
He spanks me again, and he’s right, I do love it. After the initial sting, it feels good. I enjoy knowing that he’s the only one who can do that to me.
“I love seeing these red welts on your ass, to let you know you’re mine,” he says, and then he grabs ahold of my ass cheeks and spreads them apart. “I love playing with your curvy ass and doing what I want to you.”
Pulling his cock out of me for a minute, he takes some juices from my wet pussy and rubs them on his fingers. Then he puts those fingers in my ass hole and pushes them in and out.
“Oh, my God, boss,” I say, and then quickly correct myself, remembering the upgraded status of our relationship. “Husband. You make my ass feel so good. And my pussy too.”
“That’s right,” he says, putting his cock back in me and pounding my pussy hard as he plays with my ass hole. “Your husband knows how to feel good. And you make me feel good, too. You make me cum in your tight little pussy.”
Sure enough, after a little while I feel him pulse and throb inside me. And I start to tense, so I know that I’m close to orgasm, too. I cling to him as I cum, calling out his name, as he calls out mine while he pumps his seed into my pussy.
I feel tired very quickly, and so does he, after he finishes inside me. I like that we always do that, like he finds a shared pleasure with me.
We both fall on the bed, panting.
We look at each other and smile happily.
He laughs, so I have to ask, "What's so funny?"
He stops laughing for a moment and explains.
"Well, I never expected you to have this strong of a sexual appetite, even after
we’ve been together for a while and even now that we’re married."
I grin mischievously at him.
"Don’t underestimate me. Just wait until you see what I have planned later," I tease.
"Ooh, baby," he growls in my ear.
Then he wraps his arms around me for cuddles. I smile and happily scoot closer to him. I love how we can never get enough of each other. It's not just about sex, either. It's the little things like this. We can never keep our hands off each other, in any way.
"You okay?" he asks me, while kissing the top of my head.
"Yes, just thinking…." I reply.
"What about?" he asks curiously.
Before I can answer, both of our stomachs growl in unison. We both start laughing.
"I'll order room service," he announces while getting out of bed and reaching for his robe. I wrap myself in the sheets and grab the remote to the TV. I flip through the channels while Matt places our order. He always knows what I want. He joins me in bed again to wait.
We cuddle and watch a comedy on TV that makes us both chuckle.
It's as I'm smiling at a silly joke that he looks at me and says, "I am so happy with you." My smile gets even bigger.
"I'm happy with you too," I reply.
I forget about the movie and we end up cuddling and kissing until our food arrives. Then we both dress in our robes and sit at the table to eat. We share food.
In the middle of eating, he says, “I love you so much. I’m glad we were forced together by the quarantine, and I’m so glad we got married.”
“I love you, too,” I tell him, as we toast our wine glasses together.
It makes me happy to see that we have adjusted to being married pretty well in such a short time span, although really, it's not much different from living together at home. I look forward to the rest of our lives together.
Like Matt, I'm so glad that he and I were forced together, because it forced us to take a chance on each other – and a chance on love.
THE END.
Under Wraps
A Secret Baby Quarantine Office Romance
Love Under Lockdown, Book 7
Copyright © 2020 Jamie Knight Romance.
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Damien
It was a terrible ruckus. My fist, coming down like the hammer of Mighty Thor, smashing into the cheap plastic casing of the digital alarm clock with the force of an army. A bit of an exaggeration, perhaps; I did have thespian blood traipsing through my veins, a trait which helped to no end when it came to my legal career.
I genuinely hated being roused before the sun was fully up. It went against my self-tailored religion; it was one of the very few things that did. I tended to go with my own sort of morality, understanding perfectly, certainly more than most, the difference between morals and ethics. Ethics were societal, arbitrarily imposed by people who think they know better than everyone else, which is a trait particularly found among politicians and the ultra-religious.
Morals, conversely, were a personal matter, decided on by each individual. The notion of being truly immoral indicates someone who is truly evil, unable to even recognize good enough to choose it over evil. Amorality, something I had been accused of more than once in my relatively short life, was really just bad decision-making.
I made a habit of taking things as they came, rather than following some rigid system of behaviour that will always work in every situation.
Sliding off my silk sheets – something even easier than it sounds – I hobbled into the en suite, tastefully tiled in white marble. There was a time I used to jerk off in the shower, the warm water making my skin even more sensitive… Then, I discovered girls, and the effort seemed rather worthless.
A lot of the guys at the firm had drivers, despite the fact that none of them actually owned limos. The sight of a suited and capped chauffeur standing alongside a fiery apple-red Audi did not have quite the same impact, which was one of the plethora of reasons I drove myself, traffic jams be damned.
Meeting with such a fate, despite the early hour, I settled in for the long wait, having been driving long enough to know there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it, aside from the crew working to clear the three-car pile-up that had caused it. It was not quite as surreal as the tanker truck of milk that had flipped on the freeway the month before (now, that was a mess), but it was a subtle indication that the universe might just be out to get me.
I pushed a button on the radio. A small beep emerged from the CD player. Within seconds, the confines of the Mercedes were filled with the delicate strains of classical piano.
I used to have sex in this car. It was a thrill, at first. The danger of it all. At one point, though, it got to be too much, not least because my bed was a damn sight more comfortable. I would occasionally get a blowjob en route, either to their place or mine, but that was where I drew the line.
I got more than enough sex, anyway. I couldn’t fully explain it, but women just seemed to come to me. I could flirt with the best of them; I never failed to coax a genuine laugh out of anyone I talked to, even at a funeral reception. That was likely part of it, as well as the fact that I was young, obscenely rich, absurdly well-educated, and wore charm like it was a fashionable hat.
What ever the reason, I was never alone at night if I didn’t want to be, sometimes getting two women in a single evening. Of course, with numbers like that, news of my proclivities traveled fast. Had I been the sort to give a shit about other peoples’ opinions of me, I might have been embarrassed.
As it was, I had long ago accepted my dominative tendencies as a part of who I was. The only things that annoyed me, though only a little, were the assumptions that came with the label, which were mostly based on ignorance or misinformation. The number of women willing to visit my bedroom decreased after that; not a lot, but enough for me to notice.
There was probably an assumption that I was some kind of flog-wielding maniac, beating unsuspecting women until they screamed. There were people who used flogs, though only on people who liked it; the whole business is more about the shared connection than the pain. For me, it was about control.
I never hit the women I slept with. I didn’t have to, but I also didn’t want to. I would be gentle with the vanilla types, and rougher with the ones who were into that. In every case, their utter physical submission to me was my end goal.
A lot of them told me that they liked it; the surprise in their tone and on their faces was truly priceless, especially if it was clear that they were the sort to blush at the very mention of underwear. Yes, there were virgins – and they remained so unless they specifically told me otherwise; it was neither a particular turn-on nor a deal-breaker for me. I took things as they came and made the best of it; those were the words I did my best to live by.
The traffic started to move at a slow crawl, like a beast waking up from a long hibernation, sleep-atrophied muscles refusing to fully cooperate. I could definitely relate.
Organized chaos, while an oxymoron, was the best way to describe the offices of Faust and Moore. The cold glass and steel exterior hid the madness that swirled behind it. The pandemonium was really more of a feature than a glitch, the system being set up so that the lawyer with the fewest number of wins at the end of each fiscal year was shown the door with a handshake and a kick in the ass.
One of the advantages to being a corporate lawyer was that I never ran out of clients, and the ones I brought in tended to have deep pockets. It more than made up for my somewhat strict criteria, provisos which excluded me from cases involving tobacco, alcohol, or chemical companies. I like money as much as anyone else, but I’m not going to bat for lung cancer and poison wells to get it.
My no-harm policy extended well outside the bedroom. Combined with my interest in the arts, the majority of my cases were in the intellectual property domain, dealing mostly
with flagrant, for-profit violations of licensed work. Had I been practicing at the time, I would have been on the labels’ side in the Napster case. I didn’t like what some bands, were doing, going after individual fans, but it was the greater principle of the thing. I was very into principles, at the time.
The online landscape had changed a lot since those comparatively innocent days. I was having to explain the concept of “fair use” to potential clients on a near daily basis; fees from phone calls accounted for roughly a quarter of my overall income.
Weaving my way though the human traffic, every bit as dangerous as the vehicular kind, I made it to my office. It was the big one in the corner, with the panoramic view of downtown and an attendant secretary who didn’t hate my guts.
“There is a meeting in ten minutes, sir.”
“That was quick,” I said, still in the process of hanging up my coat.
“Wow,” Sandra said from behind the desk, admiring my suit.
Or possibly fantasizing about what’s under it.
To be fair, most people had a similar reaction, juggling the air of brains I give off with the brawn they can see. I liked sports as a kid, mostly rugby sevens and fencing, but I was also a massive nerd. I belied nearly everyone’s expectations by not only going to law school but getting the second highest grade point average in the entire school before departing.
Opposing attorneys had taken to calling me “The Magician,” because they never knew what I was going to pull out of my hat. The fact that I had also slept with most of their assistants and mistresses, (who were often one and the same), had not greatly improved their attitudes toward me.
“Where is the meeting?” I asked.
“Room five,” Sandra said, coming back to reality.
I was still in a fairly good mood. Even an early morning meeting was not enough to dampen my spirits much. I had just closed a huge case, bringing in a seven-figure sum for the firm in less than a month, and there was talk of partnership.