CHAPTER 2
Jaime
There’s something so damn sexy about watching a woman get ready in the morning. Especially a woman as sexy as Gloria.
After our delicious shower, we both donned matching terrycloth robes and headed back to our bedroom. I had the luxury of starting my day a little later so I stretched myself on the chaise lounge in the corner and watched Gloria go through her rituals.
Usually, Gloria dressed for success. Conveying the image of the high-powered businesswoman she was. Chanel was her favorite designer. Despite LA’s casual dress code, Gloria always dressed up. A power suit and stilettos. A uniform that said, “Don’t fuck with me.” But to me, everything she wore said, “Fuck me now.”
Today, however, was a little different. Being on the set of the annual Gloria’s Secret Fashion Show, she preferred to be comfortable. I watched as she laid out her outfit on the bed—a pair of black leggings and ballet flats, an oversized white shirt (mine), and a lacy white bra. Hmm. No panties. My cock twitched.
My eyes stayed on her as she shrugged off her robe, sat on the edge of the bed, and began with the leggings. My blood heated as she slowly slid them up her legs. Even pregnant, Gloria had the most incredible legs. Toned and mile high. Like they emanated from her rib cage. Little about her had changed during her pregnancy. Just her tits and her tummy. I fucking loved them big.
Once the leggings with their built-in pregnancy panel were above her hips, she reached for her bra. It was an underwire, lacy concoction that supported her spectacular tits. With its back closing, she struggled with the hook.
“Come here, you,” I said seductively with a wag of my finger. “Let me help you with the clasp.”
“Thanks.” Grabbing the shirt, she ambled my way. The bra hung loosely on her body.
Standing up behind her, I blew a breath of hot air onto the nape of her neck and watched her shoulders lift as goosebumps popped along her arms. I always had that effect on her. It drove her fucking crazy. And me too.
As I hooked the bra, I began to flutter kiss her upper back. Her breathing grew shallow.
“Jaime, stop. I can’t. I have to get ready. You know how important this show is.”
What she said was true. The success of this show could make or break her company earnings.
“Okay, just this once.” Reluctantly, I pulled away. “But you’re going to pay tonight.” We were going to the Gloria’s Secret after-party at Greystone Manor. Every A-list celebrity in Tinseltown would be there along with all the Gloria’s Secret supermodels. Little did my wife know that club member, Blake Burns, had arranged the use of a private fuck pad for the two of us. If I had my way (and I usually did), we weren’t going to be doing a lot of socializing as the party progressed. More like one-on-one time.
“I can’t wait,” she replied with a sultry laugh. Once the bra was in place, she shrugged on my button-down shirt. She had taken a predilection to wearing my shirts and tees while she was pregnant. They fit her perfectly, and I found it sexy as hell. It was as if she and our babies were cocooned inside me.
Before she could button it, I flipped her around wrapped my arms around her and began to buttoned it for her, starting with the third one down. Her full breasts caressed my forearms and my cock grew harder with each button. I could feel her heat.
“Darling, please!” she moaned as I slid one hand between her thighs. I just couldn’t resist, but then I caved in and behaved.
“Okay, okay. But you’re making it so fucking hard.”
“Very funny.”
She glanced down. Eyeing the sizeable tent just below the knotted belt of my robe, she laughed yet again at my unintended double entendre and then sauntered back toward the bathroom. Man, I loved the way she walked. Even so pregnant, she exuded effortless elegance and sexiness. Her perfect heart-shaped ass shimmied beneath my shirt, her loose wet hair grazing it. Following my cock’s orders, I trailed her.
Gloria had many beauty rituals. But morning hair and makeup were my favorite. Because I got to participate. Standing behind her, our reflections facing us in the expansive wall-to-wall mirror, I ran a comb through her long, damp platinum tresses and then began to braid them. While she’d had her right arm immobilized in a cast for six weeks after the Boris nightmare, I’d become an expert. I could do every kind of braid—from French to fishtail. I chuckled to myself. I was so good I could do a video tutorial on YouTube. Hell, I could probably open a braiding salon and make a fucking fortune turning it into a franchise.
“You know, tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” I breathed against her neck as I wove her hair. “It’s almost like our anniversary.”
Indeed it was. Last Valentine’s Day I’d surprised her with Rihanna’s diamond-studded bra and thong which I’d won at the Gloria’s Secret after-party charity auction, outbidding Victor Holden, my lascivious stepfather and Gloria’s Secret’s corrupt Chairman. He was now serving time behind bars for manipulating the price of the company stock, which resulted in Gloria almost losing her job. For what he did to Gloria and to me as a child, he should be rotting in hell. Along with Vivien, his equally manipulative psycho bitch daughter.
Banishing my dark thoughts, my mind flashed back to that unforgettable night. I’d surprised Gloria with the sparkly leather garments over dinner in my suite at The Walden Hotel. After I’d coerced her to put them on and took my time admiring the way they graced her gorgeous curvaceous body, I’d yanked them off her and licked her sweet pussy. Fell in love with the taste of her. And the way her delicious pussy responded to my tongue. At the memory of that night, my cock flexed.
Gloria jerked up on feeling my cock jump. I wondered—was she also reminiscing about our first night together? As usual, she read my mind.
“Darling, I hope you’re not going to bid tonight on Beyoncé’s outfit. Beyoncé was headlining this year’s Gloria’s Secret Fashion Show, and the custom-made diamond-studded get-up she was wearing was top secret. Gloria hadn’t shared it even with me.
“Angel, don’t worry. Been there done that.” Gloria should know better. I never did the same thing twice. I tugged at her almost completed braid. “I have something else in mind.”
“Oh, I love surprises, Mr. Zander. Does it involve your cock?” I watched her smile seductively in the mirror.
Actually, what I had in mind for Mrs. Zander was a low-key but very romantic evening—dinner at oceanfront Geoffrey’s in Malibu. I couldn’t wait to give her my custom-made gift. Something symbolic—and sparkling—I hoped she’d cherish forever. I was feeling very, very proud of myself. Mr. Creativity had exceeded himself. All I hoped for in return was a mind-blowing blowjob with that luscious mouth of hers. With that wicked thought, I finished braiding her hair.
“Thank you, baby.” Gloria grinned as she fastened the end of her waist-long braid with an elastic. The platinum rope shimmered like a fine piece of jewelry.
Her morning rituals weren’t over. Now came my favorite part. Her makeup.
Standing behind her, I folded my arms around her swollen belly as she began. First her eyes. A layer of mascara and some blue shadow that drew attention to her two-color eyes, one brown the other blue. Then, a fine dusting of face powder and lastly her lips.
God, I loved Gloria’s lips. The shape of them. Their fullness. Their power. Holy balls, what they could do. I watched in the mirror in awe as she applied her red lipstick. It was as if she was painting them, and every time she did, I thought of my father with a red tube of paint in his hand. Red was his favorite color, just like Gloria’s.
Mesmerized by my gorgeous wife, I stared at her reflection. Gloria wore her red lipstick the way a superhero wore his cape. It made her powerful. Invincible. Except I was her Kryptonite. When I kissed her lips and stripped off her red capelet, she became weak. Powerless. And all mine.
I couldn’t resist.
She succumbed.
This time my cock had a different destination. Her backdoor. Quickly grabbing one of the many moisturizing lotions she kept on the counter, I parted my robe, squirted a bountiful amount on my hard as rock cock, and lubricated it. As I spread it evenly along my shaft, my mind flashed back to the first time I fucked Gloria in the ass in Paris. It was a first for her. Butt-fucking Gloria had since become one of our favorite activities. And with her big pregnant belly, one of the easiest.
Wasting no time, I shoved down her leggings and spread her ripe cheeks.
“Jaime, are you going to fuck me in the ass?” she asked, her voice all breathy. Oh yeah, she wanted it bad.
“That’s what it seems like,” I replied as I plunged my serpent into her puckered, just washed hole. Christ. She felt so tight! So hot! So good!
She groaned my name. Wrapping one arm back around her extended belly, I began to thrust in and out of her. Her beautiful moans morphed into beautiful groans. I’d only just begun. Once I got into a rhythm and she rocked into me, I moved my other hand to her pussy and inserted two fingers into her entrance while my thumb rubbed her clit. I knew what she loved. Still banging her from behind, I watched in the mirror as she arched back to meet my thrusts, her face contorting with pure ecstasy, her chest rising and falling. Shrieks escaped her lush lips and her eyes squeezed close.
“Eyes, angel.” I wanted her to watch herself come with me. At my command, she blinked them open and met my smoldering reflection.
“Oh God,” she whimpered as I pumped in and out of her, bringing both of us to the edge. Her clit was throbbing, ready to explode. And I knew I was hitting her G-for-Gloria spot again and again.
The desperate sound of her. The impassioned sight of her. It was so fucking erotic.
“Fall apart for me, angel,” I whispered in her ear, my blood rushing to my pulsing cock, my own orgasm coiling between my thighs. I could almost hear her fiery clit crying out for relief.
“Now, baby.” On the next deep thrust, she roared my name and shattered around me. As she lost control, so did I, my powerful eruption meeting hers head-on.
I hissed. Jesus. The power of a kiss.