Free Sweet Jayne by K Webster

little.”
    He chuckles and raises a brow that makes his features seem more handsome. Boyish even. I try not to cringe. “Are you afraid I might accidentally leave you down there?” he asks feigning an innocence we both know he has long since possessed. He abandons his tray and saunters over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Is my baby doll getting comfortable with playing wifey already?”
    I stand on my toes and kiss his full lips. “Maybe,” I tell him, injecting a hint of playfulness into my voice.
    His hands slide into my hair and he groans as he kisses me deeply. If I can get him to fuck me really quick, he’ll be too tired to think of much else tonight. The rest of the night will go smoothly as a result.
    Earlier, when we’d come home, he’d taken a quick shower before heading back to work. I took my time and scrubbed his scent from my body. The entire time, under the hot rain, I contemplated what my next move would be. Am I brave enough to sneak out of bed and try to get to his phone in the middle of the night? Could I manage to sweet talk the information out of him? Perhaps even get him wasted somehow, and drive the things I need to know right out of his stubborn head?
    Of course no answers came to me while in the shower.
    When it comes to Logan, he’s the ruler of my world. I have to bow at his feet until my time to overthrow the dictator comes along. I’ve been patient. Have craved that moment for three long years. One day soon, my prison sentence will be over.
    “Today, in your lieutenant’s office,” I say forcing a breathy sigh against his lips, “was so hot. I’ve been horny for you ever since.”
    He pulls away and his brows pinch together. “Really?” He rears his head back from mine marginally, studying me. I maintain my façade of poised interest. “Why didn’t you call? You didn’t look that horny while you swept the entire house and then spent hours cleaning the baseboards after I went back to work. You know I watch your every move.”
    I suck in a sharp breath of air. Yes, I knew he was watching . There are cameras all over his house. In my bedroom and in the adjacent bathroom, his bedroom, and one in the living room that also captures the dining room. He doesn’t need to have a camera in the kitchen because he knows I love being in there. I’ve never once done anything to make him think I’d ever dream of running or of trying to hurt him. Dutifully, I clean and cook for him. Every day. And when he comes home, I let him fuck me however and whenever. The only time I ever step foot out of the house is when it’s under his specific instruction. I absolutely hate leaving the house, but at least twice a week, he sends me on an errand to fetch something or other.
    “Do you ever work?” I joke and flash him a wide grin. “Maybe next time I’ll clean naked. That’ll distract you. Voy a ser tu criada coqueta.” I’ll be your flirty maid.
    My attempt to be cute and coy works because a moment later, he’s shoved me to my knees, right there in the middle of the kitchen, his supper forgotten. He rips open his fly and yanks down his pants, releasing his engorged cock and ramming it down my throat. I dig my nails into his thighs and take him deep, just the way he likes it. If he comes down my throat, then I’ve done my job.
    All part of the plan.
    He thrusts into my face, forcing the back of my head against the cabinet behind me and begins brutally fucking my mouth. Hot tears streak from my eyes but I take it. Because I have to. When I hear his desperate groan, I prepare my throat and let his hot seed run down the back of it. His cock finally stops twitching and he slips from my mouth, my slobber still tethering us together.
    “You really are trying to be the perfect wife,” he says with a half grin and ruffles my hair like I’m a damn dog. “Good girl.”
    I smile as he pulls his pants back up, grabs the tray, and heads for the basement.
    Don’t think about it.
    Closing