“I love morning, all-day, and all-night sex.” Snatching handfuls of my ass, he rocks his crotch against my stomach. “And speaking of.” He pins me with a suggestive look as he picks me up and cradles me against his chest.
My legs and arms automatically curl around his body. “I love you.” I dot kisses all over his gorgeous face as he walks us toward the bedroom.
“I love you too, and it’ll never get old hearing you tell me that.” He lays me down flat on the bed with tender loving care. “Stay still,” he commands when I move to unzip my dress. “I want to undress you.”
I prop myself against the pillows as I watch him remove my clothing, one painstaking piece at a time. His eyes leisurely stroll over my naked body as he strips his own clothes away, his gaze burning intensely as he roams every inch of my bare skin. “Spread your legs and touch yourself,” he instructs as he pops the button on his jeans. “I want to see how wet you are for me.”
Without any hesitation or shame, I spread my thighs and run my fingers up and down my slit before pushing two inside my slippery channel. I’m soaked, but he always has this effect on me. I only have to look at him, and I’m instantly dripping with need.
“Show me.” He kicks his jeans and boxers away.
Extracting my fingers, I hold them out for his inspection as he crawls up the bed and over my body. Taking my wrist, he drags my fingers under his nose, inhaling deeply as liquid warmth gushes between my legs.
Holy hell.
He is so dirty, and I cannot get enough.
“You smell like mine,” he purrs before wrapping his hot mouth round my fingers and sucking hard. My hips arch off the bed as he licks the essence from my fingers while ravishing me with dark lust-charged eyes. “Taste like mine too.” Bending down, he plants a long, slow, deep kiss on my lips. His hands cup my face as he breaks the kiss and kneels between my legs. “I love you, Kendall, and I can’t wait to make you officially mine.” He kisses me again, softly and sweetly, in a way that almost brings tears to my eyes, before he slides down my body and worships my other lips.
He brings me over the edge in a new record time, and my limbs are like mush on the mattress as he guides his throbbing cock to my entrance. “Be mine forever, Kendall,” he whispers, easing carefully inside me, one measured inch at a time.
“I’m yours, Vander.” I gasp as he tenderly fills me like we have all the time in the world. I hug his back as he covers me with his beautiful body, driving into me in languid, measured strokes that are the opposite of how he usually fucks me. Gone are the urgent thrusts and savage pounding as he takes his time, exploring every inch of my hot flesh with his lips and his hands while rocking into me carefully, driving slow and deep, until it feels like there is no him and me—only us.
My legs encircle his shapely waist as he makes love to me, and my fingers explore the toned curves and dips of his body while my mouth presses loving kisses to his lips. I have loved every time I’ve had sex with Vander, but this moment elevates the experience to a transcendental level.
We glide against one another in sensual, slow, deep motions, our bodies aligned with the synchronization of our hearts and souls. Time ceases to have meaning as we caress, kiss, and make love, and as long as I live, I will never forget how loved and desired I feel as Vander alters my world and shows me the light.
After, we lie in each other’s arms, sweaty and sated, our hearts swollen with love and our souls replete. Resting my head on his chest, I trace his tattoos with the tip of my finger while he reads excerpts from Existentialists and Mystics, a book of writings on philosophy and literature by the acclaimed author and philosopher Iris Murdoch. We found the book in a local bookshop, and Vander insisted on buying it for me. The last semester of my philosophy class is focused on female influencers, and I already have books by Simone Weil, Hannah Arendt, and Simone de Beauvoir stacked on my nightstand at home.
Vander’s dulcet tones lull me to sleep, and when I wake, in the early hours of the morning, it’s to his lips on my lips and his hands all over my body.
“Working late again?” June asks, popping her head in my door as she buttons her coat.
“Yes. I want to take an extra few vacation days next week, so I’m working additional overtime hours.” Easter is late this year, falling in the middle of April, and I can’t believe how fast time is flying. It’s been almost a month since Vander and I took our trip to Connecticut, and I’m suffering major withdrawal symptoms even though we are managing to snatch as much time together as we can.
“Okay, but don’t stay too late. The asshole is still in the building. Make sure you leave with everyone else.”
I’m not the only one burning the midnight oil in the run up to the holidays. “I will,” I lie, forcing a smile on my face. “See you tomorrow.”
My friends are going to kill me when they discover I’m going through with my plan after all. Viola and June thought they had talked me out of trapping Greg. To be fair, they had. Until the stakes were upped, and he’s ready to make his move. I know he’s coming for me, and I won’t sit back and let him take the first potshot. I’ve got to take control and challenge him to do something I can use to get him fired and discredited. It’s the only way to help Vander and safeguard my job.
Diana Henley served him with divorce papers on Monday, and Greg showed up at the boxing club, shouting insults and threats at his son, demanding he tell him where his wife is. Since then, he has shown up at his school and the apartment, demanding to be let in. Vander is holding firm in refusing to speak to him, and now that a temporary restraining order has been granted, Greg can’t go near his son without risking arrest. He won’t jeopardize his career or his reputation so foolishly, which is how I know he’s plotting other ways to retaliate.
With her friend Dana’s help, Diana hired an attorney in Colorado to handle the process on her behalf. As well as petitioning for divorce—with full alimony—she has begun civil proceedings to sue him for unlawfully stealing her inheritance, and she submitted a restraining order on the grounds of his constant abuse. Vander documented evidence over the years, which substantiates her claim, and it looks like Greg is not going to talk his way out of this. This time, his wife is not cowering in fear of his fists, and she’s telling the truth about what went on in their marriage. It won’t matter with the divorce petition, but it will impact the other proceedings against him.
The evidence is enough to seal her contact details, so all correspondence will go through the attorney, and it’s killing Greg that he can’t find where she is.
Honestly, if I was Diana Henley, I’d be scared for my life.
I haven’t been able to sleep all week worrying about what Greg has planned next. If Diana succeeds, she won’t need any more of Vander’s money, and she has already told him she’ll cover his college expenses. Greg can’t get near his wife or his son with the TRO in place—which will become permanent in ten days—unless he contests it. He might, but he’s smart enough to know the evidence will refute any excuses he might make, and I don’t think he can risk attending the hearing. There are already rumblings within legal circles, and this doesn’t look good for his career or his standing within the legal community.