by Cris Anson
With a low chuckle, Lowell continued eating her, fingering her, licking the slit until she unconsciously spread her legs wider. When she let out a soft moan, he rose up and with a movement so quick all she saw was a blur, she was leaning over his desk, her elbows holding her weight and Lowell about to enter her from behind.
“Lowell, no! Condom!”
He took a harsh breath. His fully engorged cock halted against her pussy then detoured to rub between her ass cheeks. “Annabelle, I want to feel what it’s like to be truly inside you.”
She tensed. “Lowell, please. You know I’m on the pill, but I don’t want to take the chance…”
“Shit,” he swore softly, then stood upright, lifting her as well. He gently turned her around, cupped her face in his big hands. “Annabelle, I love you. I want to have a family with you.”
Annabelle’s eyelids fluttered closed. “Oh, Lowell, I love you too.”
Dipping his head to plant a few soft kisses on her face, he murmured, “I wasn’t going to ask you until after the party, but…” He dug into his trousers pocket and retrieved a small velvet box. “Will you marry me and bear my children? Will you let me call you Annabelle every day? Will you let me dominate you?”
“Yes! And yes and yes. And…sometimes.”
Lifting her in a bear hug, he spun her around a few times then set her down next to the desk. “Please. Try it on.”
Annabelle opened the box and lost her power of speech. A dazzling diamond flanked by two square emeralds sparkled at her. With shaking fingers she lifted the ring from its velvet nest and slipped it on her third finger, left hand.
Perfect fit.
Her eyes were full of love as she looked up at him. “Maybe after the party we can, you know, try—”
As if he knew what she wanted to say, Lowell spun her around. Positioning her to face the desk, he lifted her skirts, jerked down her panties and plunged into her pussy in one powerful thrust.
“Annabelle,” he croaked as he stayed motionless inside her. “You feel so good. I don’t want anything to come between us. Ever.”
“Oh God, Lowell, don’t stop, Lowell please, please…” She wiggled her ass.
He began moving his hips, pumping harder and harder with each stroke until she thought she would go crazy.
“Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle,” he chanted. “You’ll not refuse me ever again. Not in the office, not at home. No more calling you Miss Fortier. You’re my Annabelle and always will be.”
A half dozen powerful strokes more and Annabelle exploded, holding the pad of her palm to her mouth and biting down to keep from shouting. Two, three, four strokes more and Lowell came as well, his fingers holding her hips so tight she’d have bruises for days.
“Lowell?” A voice sounded outside the door. “Don’t forget, you’re giving the intro. We’ll be starting in five minutes.”
It took Lowell a long moment to catch his breath. “Be right with you.”
And to Annabelle, “See what you can do in an office?”
“Thank goodness you have an executive washroom,” she retorted, making an effort to lock her knees so she could stand upright.
He thrust a wad of tissues in her hand. “I have to get to the dais and get ready for my welcoming speech. See you there.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I…ah…clean up.”
Laughing like a carefree boy, Lowell unlocked his office door and strode out.
A few minutes later, cleaned up and makeup repaired, Annabelle followed the crowd to the largest conference room. Lowell, his eyes sparkling as much as her brand-new diamond, looked at ease on the dais, speaking without notes.
The crowd applauded when he finished, and Joseph Butler took center stage. He spoke of his firm’s accomplishments, acknowledged the contributions of his partners, then said, “Of course, my leaving the firm opens up a spot for a new partner. I’m happy to say that the board has unanimously agreed on a candidate to fill it.”
His eyes roved the assembled group, lit up when they rested on Annabelle.
“I’m delighted to announce the new Senior Partner, Annabelle Fortier.”
Amid the cheering and applause, Annabelle took a stunned moment to process what she’d just heard. As she stumbled up to the dais, she noted Lowell whispering in Mr. Butler’s ear.
Just as she got to the stage, with Lowell reaching out a hand to help her up the three steps, Mr. Butler added, “And I understand we’ll have to order another set of business cards in a couple of months, as she will soon become Mrs. Lowell Smith.”
Nudged to the podium to make an acceptance speech, Annabelle looked at the smiling faces of her co-workers. Apparently she was a popular choice, because the applause continued for an embarrassingly long time. Finally she cleared her throat.
“Thank you, Mr. Butler, and all the Partners. I’m honored to be chosen. I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.” She gripped the podium with damp palms.
“We all know Mr. Butler is a gentleman of the old school, and we all appreciate that. He has given us respect and support, and it’s an honor to be the first woman to be made Partner in this firm.” Her eyes glinting with mischief, she added, “However, you won’t need to worry about my business cards. I’ve made my mark as an architect under the name of Annabelle Fortier, and I’m sure Mr. Smith will agree that I should continue to use my maiden name for business purposes.”
She turned to Lowell with love in her eyes. “In all other ways, though, I wish to be known as Annabelle Smith.” Giving him a chaste peck on the cheek, she whispered for his ears only, “And any time you call me Mrs. Smith, I’ll be ready and bare-assed for you.”
About the Author
Cris Anson firmly believes that love is the greatest gift…to give or to receive. In her writing, she lives for the moment when her characters realize they love each other, usually after much antagonism and conflict. And when they express that love physically, Cris keeps a fire extinguisher near the keyboard in case of spontaneous combustion. Multi-published and twice EPPIE-nominated in romantic suspense under another name, she was usually asked to tone down her love scenes. For Ellora’s Cave, she’s happy to turn the flame as high as it will go—and then some.
After suffering the loss of her real-life hero/husband of twenty-two years, Cris has picked up the pieces of her life and tries to remember only the good times...slow-dancing with him to the Big Band sound of Glenn Miller's music, vacations to scenic national parks in a snug recreational vehicle, his tender and fierce love, his unflagging belief in her ability to write stories that touch the heart as well as the libido. Bits and pieces of his tenacity, optimism, code of honor and lust for life will live on in her imaginary heroes.
Cris welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Cris Anson
Dance of the Butterfly
Dance of the Crystal
Dance of the Seven Veils
Discovery
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