His back is to me when I open the door, his face in the pounding water. I’ve let a wash of cool air in, though, and he turns to face me. As he does, I see the heat flare in his eyes. More interesting, though, is the way his cock hardens, the immediacy of his reaction making absolutely clear that Damien has no objections to my joining him here this morning.
He opens his mouth to say something, but I press a finger over his lips, then step closer. He’s almost finished his shower, so his body is no longer slick with soap. I consider that a good thing, because as I kiss his chest, he tastes fresh and clean.
I move slowly down, licking his skin, teasing the light smattering of hair on his chest. I flick my tongue over his nipple and am rewarded by the way he grabs my hair, his body stiffening beneath my hands that are sliding down his body, too, keeping time with the progress of my kisses.
I go lower, dropping to my knees as I reach his navel. His abs are rock hard and the muscles quiver under my lips. I can tell I’m driving him crazy, and he tightens his grip on my hair even as his other hand reaches for the side of the stall to steady himself.
Lower and lower, my lips teasing his skin, tracing that magical line of hair that leads from just below his navel all the way down to his cock. And when I reach it, thick and wet, I draw my tongue along the velvet steel as Damien moans under my ministrations.
With purposeful slowness, I lick around the head, then flick the end of my tongue over the tip, tasting the pre-come. Then I draw him in, and as I do, the hand that Damien has twined in my hair shifts to the back of my head. At first he just holds me steady, but as I suck in long, deep strokes, he groans with satisfaction and longing, and tightens his grip.
Right now, I’m the one in control, but I can feel that control slipping from me. No, not slipping. Damien is grabbing it by grabbing me—by holding tight to my hair and keeping me in place as he fucks my mouth, totally turning the tables on me.
But I don’t care. I’m too turned on to care, and as his cock fills my mouth and water pounds down over us, I slip my hand between my legs and touch myself, then whimper softly. I’m slick and swollen and so turned on it’s painful, and as I suck my husband’s cock, I tease myself, seeking release.
I’m close, too, so close I can feel electricity filling my body like an approaching thunderstorm. I can feel the tension building in Damien, too, and I know the explosion is coming.
Doesn’t matter. He pulls back, leaving my mouth open in surprise. Then he pulls me to my feet and turns me around, his hands gliding over my wet skin as he spins me. “Hands on the wall,” he demands, and I comply eagerly as his fingers slide over my ass to find my core. And then his cock is there, and he’s pounding inside of me, his hands tight on my breasts as he orders me to “finish what you started, baby. Touch yourself. I want to feel you come with me.”
I don’t hesitate, and as Damien’s wet body slaps against mine—as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside me—I tease my clit, feeling the shockwaves gather inside me, readying for an explosion.
And when Damien’s body goes rigid—when he thrusts hard that one final time—when he releases completely inside me, that’s when I finally go over, my deep cry of satisfaction ringing out in harmony with his as our bodies shake and quiver together from the force of our simultaneous release.
When the shockwaves have faded, he turns me gently in his arms, then rinses me off before shutting off the stream of warm water. He opens the door, and steam curls into the rest of the bathroom.
He leads me out onto the fluffy bathmat, then uses a thick, cotton towel to dry me off.
Only then do I lean my head back, smile, and speak to him for the first time. “Good morning, Mr. Stark.”
“Yes,” he says, matching my grin. “It is.”
“I figured since I can’t wake up with coffee, this was the next best thing.” I say it with a wink, and he chuckles.
“Happy to be of service, Mrs. Stark.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ve read that pregnancy hormones make a woman wildly aroused,” he adds conversationally. “I thought I should mention that I’m always happy to help with whatever you need. Ice cream. A quickie on your office desk.”
“Frozen Thin Mints?” I suggest.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve been displaced by baked goods. Too bad it’s the wrong time of year for Girl Scout cookies. Besides, I thought your favorite guilty pleasure was frozen Milky Ways.”
I lift a shoulder. “Who can understand cravings? But don’t worry. I won’t stop craving you.”
He pulls me in for a long, slow kiss, before easing back and studying my face. “Now that, Mrs. Stark, is something I’m very, very glad to hear.”
“When should we tell everyone?” I ask once we’re dressed and Damien is walking with me toward the foyer. “Part of me wants to wait until Monday after I see my own doctor. But I also want them to hear it from us, and not on social media.”
“Most people don’t believe what they read online. Even Greystone-Branch asked you. They didn’t just assume.”
“True. And I think the gossip may be mostly contained. That printout John showed me was from a Dallas gossip site. And Jamie didn’t say a word. And she absorbs gossip intravenously.”
Damien tugs me to him for a quick kiss. “Then we’re probably safe waiting,” he says. “Why don’t we host a brunch on Sunday— mimosas for them, juice for you. Unless it comes up before, we’ll tell everyone then.”
“Good. Sunday’s good. Before then, and it’s like we’re stealing Jane’s thunder. I want her to have the full princess treatment at the premiere on Friday.”
“Sunday it is.”
I hesitate. “Should we wait to tell Jackson and Syl, though? I mean, he’s your brother.”
“And he’ll understand if we wait. Baby, everyone will understand.”
He’s right. None of our friends or family will feel slighted by us choosing how we want to share our news. I just hope they hear it from us first.
“All right,” I say. “Sunday.” I press the button for our private elevator, and it opens immediately. I step on, surprised when Damien follows me into the car. I’d expected him to walk through the corridor to his penthouse office suite.
“Do you have outside meetings?”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I press a finger over his lips, then step closer. He’s almost finished his shower, so his body is no longer slick with soap. I consider that a good thing, because as I kiss his chest, he tastes fresh and clean.
I move slowly down, licking his skin, teasing the light smattering of hair on his chest. I flick my tongue over his nipple and am rewarded by the way he grabs my hair, his body stiffening beneath my hands that are sliding down his body, too, keeping time with the progress of my kisses.
I go lower, dropping to my knees as I reach his navel. His abs are rock hard and the muscles quiver under my lips. I can tell I’m driving him crazy, and he tightens his grip on my hair even as his other hand reaches for the side of the stall to steady himself.
Lower and lower, my lips teasing his skin, tracing that magical line of hair that leads from just below his navel all the way down to his cock. And when I reach it, thick and wet, I draw my tongue along the velvet steel as Damien moans under my ministrations.
With purposeful slowness, I lick around the head, then flick the end of my tongue over the tip, tasting the pre-come. Then I draw him in, and as I do, the hand that Damien has twined in my hair shifts to the back of my head. At first he just holds me steady, but as I suck in long, deep strokes, he groans with satisfaction and longing, and tightens his grip.
Right now, I’m the one in control, but I can feel that control slipping from me. No, not slipping. Damien is grabbing it by grabbing me—by holding tight to my hair and keeping me in place as he fucks my mouth, totally turning the tables on me.
But I don’t care. I’m too turned on to care, and as his cock fills my mouth and water pounds down over us, I slip my hand between my legs and touch myself, then whimper softly. I’m slick and swollen and so turned on it’s painful, and as I suck my husband’s cock, I tease myself, seeking release.
I’m close, too, so close I can feel electricity filling my body like an approaching thunderstorm. I can feel the tension building in Damien, too, and I know the explosion is coming.
Doesn’t matter. He pulls back, leaving my mouth open in surprise. Then he pulls me to my feet and turns me around, his hands gliding over my wet skin as he spins me. “Hands on the wall,” he demands, and I comply eagerly as his fingers slide over my ass to find my core. And then his cock is there, and he’s pounding inside of me, his hands tight on my breasts as he orders me to “finish what you started, baby. Touch yourself. I want to feel you come with me.”
I don’t hesitate, and as Damien’s wet body slaps against mine—as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside me—I tease my clit, feeling the shockwaves gather inside me, readying for an explosion.
And when Damien’s body goes rigid—when he thrusts hard that one final time—when he releases completely inside me, that’s when I finally go over, my deep cry of satisfaction ringing out in harmony with his as our bodies shake and quiver together from the force of our simultaneous release.
When the shockwaves have faded, he turns me gently in his arms, then rinses me off before shutting off the stream of warm water. He opens the door, and steam curls into the rest of the bathroom.
He leads me out onto the fluffy bathmat, then uses a thick, cotton towel to dry me off.
Only then do I lean my head back, smile, and speak to him for the first time. “Good morning, Mr. Stark.”
“Yes,” he says, matching my grin. “It is.”
“I figured since I can’t wake up with coffee, this was the next best thing.” I say it with a wink, and he chuckles.
“Happy to be of service, Mrs. Stark.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ve read that pregnancy hormones make a woman wildly aroused,” he adds conversationally. “I thought I should mention that I’m always happy to help with whatever you need. Ice cream. A quickie on your office desk.”
“Frozen Thin Mints?” I suggest.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve been displaced by baked goods. Too bad it’s the wrong time of year for Girl Scout cookies. Besides, I thought your favorite guilty pleasure was frozen Milky Ways.”
I lift a shoulder. “Who can understand cravings? But don’t worry. I won’t stop craving you.”
He pulls me in for a long, slow kiss, before easing back and studying my face. “Now that, Mrs. Stark, is something I’m very, very glad to hear.”
“When should we tell everyone?” I ask once we’re dressed and Damien is walking with me toward the foyer. “Part of me wants to wait until Monday after I see my own doctor. But I also want them to hear it from us, and not on social media.”
“Most people don’t believe what they read online. Even Greystone-Branch asked you. They didn’t just assume.”
“True. And I think the gossip may be mostly contained. That printout John showed me was from a Dallas gossip site. And Jamie didn’t say a word. And she absorbs gossip intravenously.”
Damien tugs me to him for a quick kiss. “Then we’re probably safe waiting,” he says. “Why don’t we host a brunch on Sunday— mimosas for them, juice for you. Unless it comes up before, we’ll tell everyone then.”
“Good. Sunday’s good. Before then, and it’s like we’re stealing Jane’s thunder. I want her to have the full princess treatment at the premiere on Friday.”
“Sunday it is.”
I hesitate. “Should we wait to tell Jackson and Syl, though? I mean, he’s your brother.”
“And he’ll understand if we wait. Baby, everyone will understand.”
He’s right. None of our friends or family will feel slighted by us choosing how we want to share our news. I just hope they hear it from us first.
“All right,” I say. “Sunday.” I press the button for our private elevator, and it opens immediately. I step on, surprised when Damien follows me into the car. I’d expected him to walk through the corridor to his penthouse office suite.
“Do you have outside meetings?”
