Page 39 of Hotline
"Don't stop," he says, eyes Julian's between my legs. "Keep going."
His voice is sharp, strained.
"Like this?" I say with a little smile on my lips, sliding my hand down farther. I press my fingers to the cleft above my clit, feeling the slickness of my desire in the little tuft of hair I keep down there.
"Exactly like this."
His hologram gets fuzzy and then goespoof!as he disappears.
I groan in frustration.
"It was just getting to the good part!"
I grab my phone and try calling him back, but he doesn't answer.
I throw the phone on the table. Now I'm all hot and bothered and in need of my husband more than ever.
A dampened thud sounds through the house, echoing and bouncing off the walls of this ridiculously beautiful home until it makes its way to me.
Moments later, I hear footsteps. Confident footsteps, the walk of a man who knows this place inside and out.
The door swings open and my husband appears with a half-frenzied, half-lovestruck look on his face.
"What are you doing here??”
He runs over and kneels before me, taking my face in his hands and planting a hot, soul-exploding kiss on my lips.
"But your meeting in New York!" I say as we both come up for air.
"I don't give a fuck about the meeting." He yanks his shirt off, revealing his sculpted, ridiculously sexy chest. "I think you and I both know that I was never intending to get on that airplane."
"But what's going to happen?" I say. "We have another kid on the way." I stroke my stomach tenderly. He puts his hand on mine, our fingers intertwined. He pulls my hand to his lips, kissing me on the inside of my wrist before going back down to stroke the very roomy home of our next baby. "We need a steady paycheck so we can keep the lights on."
And trust me, there are a lot of lights.
Five bedrooms' worth. Desk lamps for homework; nightlights for our littlest ones; kindling stoked on cozy nights as we read stories by the fire.
My husband and I have been keeping very busy over the years. It's a good thing I love being pregnant. The hormones are addictive, with the side effects being in a constant state of clawing at my husband and trying to wrap my legs around.
"I sent a proxy in my place. Anyone can run my business. Not everyone can be home to rail that sweet pussy."
Yup. There is it. That's the kind of talk that landed us in this situation in the first place.
"Mmmm." A soft purr ripples through me, igniting every inch of my very soul. "Amen to that."
"And now that I'm here, that pussy is mine to play with." His eyes shoot daggers through me. "All mine. Isn't that right?"
"Yes." I slowly inch my legs apart. He helps them along, his big hands on the insides of my knees. "Show me."
"What do you want me to show you?"
His hands stroke teasing, excruciatingly slow paths up my legs, wandering along my inner thighs, sliding to the outside, thumbs pressed into the edge of my panties.
"Show me that it's yours," I whisper, arching my back. He puts his arm around me back and pulls me closer and closer until my stomach brushes up against his chest.
My husband lets out a deep breath through his nose as his fingers slide into my panties. When his fingertips stroke up against my clit, my head falls back and I let out a long, loud moan.
"All mine," he says, nuzzling into my neck, tracing a line up my throat with his tongue. He nips at my earlobe with his teeth as his fingers keep doing their magic between my legs. My eyelids flutter closed, painted orange and red as I get lost in his touch.
