Barclay

One year later …

I have one more report left to go over before I can clock out for the night. Tessa said she was cooking up something special and would keep it warm for me. Her voice sounded seductive, like she had a hidden meaning behind her words.

Truth is, I can’t keep her out of my pants. She wants sex more than a seventeen-year-old boy, but I can live with that … about twice a day.

As I finish the last page of the report, there’s a knock at my office door. I glance at the clock, figuring Mrs. Mackenzie decided to stay late.

“Come in,” I say without looking up from my computer. I need to get this work done so I can head home to my beautiful fiancée.

“Special delivery, Mr. Hammond,” says a familiar voice—not belonging to my assistant.

One peek over my computer screen reveals a blonde goddess in a dangerously short trench coat. She holds a box in her hands. I lick my lips as she locks the door behind her.

“I don’t remember ordering anything.” I push back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well, you asked me to bring you a cherry tart.” She holds up the bakery box, and I can’t hide my amusement.

“I hope it’s still warm.” I give her a crooked smile, playing along.

“Very. Want to feel for yourself?” She saunters toward me, setting the box on a table.

She unbuckles her coat belt, and then starts to unbutton it, from top to bottom, torturing me in the process.

When she finishes with the last button, she walks to me, and the coat parts, revealing her beautiful, bare skin.

Her mouthwatering curves flow from full, firm breasts to soft, round hips. My fingers twitch from memory, needing to touch her now. I start to get up from my chair, but she raises her hand.

“Stay where you are, Mr. Hammond.” The coat falls to the floor, leaving her bare except for her black stilettos.

God, I’m a lucky man.

She comes around the desk and kneels in front of me, rubbing her hands over my thighs. My dick presses against my suit pants, begging to be turned loose.

Unable to keep my hands to myself, I brush my fingers across the smooth skin of her cheeks, neck, and shoulder. She’s so soft to the touch.

“Does the Hammaconda want to come out to play?” she asks coyly, using her nickname for my cock.

Jesus, what happened to the sweet virgin I met a year ago? I pray she never returns. I prefer this twisted version of her better.

“He’s always ready for you, baby.”

After easing my zipper down, she spreads the edges open, pulls my underwear down, and out he pops.

Giving my dick a name even has me referring to him in the third person, but he’s happy, and so is she. That’s all that matters.

Her mouth forms a big O, and she looks up with raised brows, like she’s never seen a cock before. The minx might’ve missed her calling on Broadway.

“You’re so large, Mr. Hammond. I’ve never seen anyone bigger.”

When she bends forward, one of her hands encloses around me, pumping and giving me some relief. Then her tongue licks over me, and I lose my flipping mind as she takes me in her hot mouth. Suck, twirl, suck, twirl—over and over again.

She’s perfected the art of giving head and knows what she’s doing to me as I catch the twinkle in her eye.

After a few minutes, my release starts to build, but I haven’t touched my favorite parts of her yet.

“Stop, babe.” I place my hand under her chin. “I’d like to properly tip you for the special delivery.” She nods, wiping her mesmerizingly pouty lips. God, why did I stop her from sucking me off?

Picking her up, I place her glorious ass on the edge of my desk and swipe everything to the sides, spilling items onto the floor. We’re unleashed and wanton in our pursuit of pleasure.

“Lie back,” I command.

She eases herself down onto the desk, golden hair cascading over the shiny mahogany wood. Breasts soft with blush pink nipples. Her legs dangle over the edge, and I part them, bringing the real prize into view.

I push my pants down farther, freeing my dick completely, and line myself up at her entrance. Before I take her, I rub over her already-wet sex, making sure she’s ready.

“Come on, Barclay,” she begs, greedily.

I cradle both her legs in the crook of my arms, spreading her even wider while holding her still. I don’t want her falling off the desk.

With one thrust forward, I enter her.

“Oh, yes,” I hiss. 

“Harder, please. Harder.” She always wants more.

“Touch yourself, sweet girl.”

It’s so hot watching her pleasure herself while I move in and out of her tight pussy. We’re both edging closer, our bodies in sync and tightening, and finally, she lets go, mumbling in her special orgasm speak. Her muscles pulse around me, spurring my release.

I fall to the desk on my elbows, a panting, sweaty, satisfied man.

“Thanks for the special delivery, Tessa. What’s the occasion?” I ask, as if she needs one. We’ve never fucked in my office before, not that I haven’t wanted to.

“Look inside the box, please.” She points over at the table.

I right my pants and walk to the box, picking it up and opening it.

“Surprise?” she says in a timid voice.

There’s a small round cake with a pacifier sitting on top, like the one Beatrice used.

“What does this mean?” I ask, my eyes searching her face. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes. Are you okay with that? I mean, we’ve talked about kids in the future tense, and the wedding is in two weeks.” I calm her worries with the happiest smile I can muster.

“Holy shit, I’m going to be a father.” Overjoyed, I gently spin her around in my arms. “And yours is going to kill me.”

“He’ll get over it, especially if we name a boy after him, or a girl Holly.”

“There are enough Barclay Hammonds in the world anyway.”

I fall to my knees, placing my hands on her hips. Leaning forward, I kiss her flat stomach, knowing our child is growing inside her. Talk about blowing my mind.

I have a sexy as fuck soon-to-be wife with a baby on the way. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that she’s a sex fiend. Hell, I’m one blessed man.