Planting my hands on the floor on either side of her narrow hips, I spread her legs and then wedged Mr. Burns inside her. My big, thick cock slid in with ease, taking her to the hilt, and then I began to pound her. Pumping in and out harder and faster as she met my thrusts.
More moans. Whimpers. Pants. And grunts on my part. It was an intense wordless fuck. Truthfully, most of them were like that. I’d read some of the steamy romance novels that Jen had made into movies and could never understand all the banter that transpired between the amorous couples during their most intimate times. Hell, I couldn’t even think straight let alone get coherent words out. At most some garbled dirty talk. Three letter Boggle words limited to “hot,” “wet,” and “yes.” A few expletives and then, “Come for me, tiger.” Or, “Baby, I’m gonna come!”
And boy, was I. It was a little premature for me, but who knew what effect tonight’s traumatic events and jet lag had on me. I was ready to let go. Explode!
With one more forceful thrust and a feral grunt, I emptied inside her, feeling my tiger’s own explosive orgasm chasing mine. As she combusted around me, she roared out my name, so loudly the Highlanders we’d met in Scotland likely heard her.
I gripped her abdomen before she sank to the floor.
Still folded over, she exhaled a loud breath and then muttered:
“Blake, we need to get a dog.”
Chapter 4
Blake
It was Saturday. Usually, I got up early to climb the Santa Monica stairs, but today I slept in. It was almost ten a.m., which was really late for me, and as I rolled out of bed, the alluring smell of fresh coffee wafted from the kitchen. Jen was already up and must have made it. The strong aroma brought me to my senses, and I remembered it was my wife’s birthday. Her twenty-sixth. I had plans to make her day special. Make that very special. And those plans included a romp in the sack with Mr. Burns after I gave her the bauble I’d secretly bought in Scotland.
After doing my morning business, I joined her at the kitchen bar, which overlooked the living room and dining area. Seated on a counter stool, she was hunched over her laptop, a mug of coffee beside her.
“Happy Birthday, baby,” I said cheerfully, before making myself a cup of coffee. The way I liked it—lots of cream and two sugars.
It was almost as if she didn’t hear me. “Oh my God, they’re all so cute!” she gushed as I headed her way.
“What’s so cute?” I gave her a kiss on the nape of her neck and then sat down next to her, carefully setting my hot coffee on the counter. She’d better not be referring to any hot looking guys!
“These doggies!” Her eyes glued to the screen, she scrolled down. “Take a look!” She angled the computer in my direction, myriad photos of dogs facing me on the screen. There were all different types, some small, some big, and a wide variety of breeds, ranging from purebreds to mutts.
Jen took a sip of her coffee. “Blake, I want all of them! And they all need good homes!”
Jen had mentioned that she wanted a dog after we fucked last night, but in all honesty, I hadn’t thought much about it. I figured it was just a random thought, but I guess I was wrong.
I slid the laptop back her way. “What site are you on?”
“Adopt-a-Pet. There are literally hundreds of dogs you can adopt.” She took another sip of her steamy brew. “Blake, did you ever have a dog growing up?”
I told her we’d had a half dozen. All of them yappy white miniature poodles that my socialite mother had flown in from a top East Coast breeder. Every one of them had a French name—Monique, Brigitte, Gigi—to name a few. My mother fawned over them, spoiling them with gourmet meals our cooks prepared, designer accessories and outfits she had custom-made in Paris, and canopied beds that were miniature copies of the regal one she and my father slept in. My father let her have her way with the dogs—even let her take them on vacations—as long as they didn’t sleep in their bed. That’s where he put his foot down.
Jennifer’s face lit up. “Oh, Blake, they sound so adorable. I bet you must have loved them!”
I scrunched my brows, making a face. “Loathed them is more like it.” Jen’s brows shot up as I explained. “They were total pains in the ass. The spoiled brats peed all over the house and chewed up lots of shit, including my treasured baseball card collection. Plus, thanks to my sister being a bookworm and obsessed with getting into an Ivy-League college, I got saddled with the job of taking them for a walk after school. My father thought it was a great idea for his slacker son to have a responsible job and he even paid me five dollars per walk. Luckily, I figured out quickly that the gardener wanted the five bucks more than I did and secretly got him to give the dogs their daily afternoon walk.
I smiled at the memory of my achievement. Pass the buck was a life-lesson I taught myself. And it still worked.
Jen was not amused by my cleverness. Her face grew pensive, borderline worried. “Blake, does that mean you don’t like dogs?”
I took a sip of my coffee. “No. It just means I’m not a dog person.”
A glimmer of hope twinkled in her eyes. It was followed by a long beat of silence. She turned to face me, holding my gaze fiercely in hers.
“Blake, I was serious about what I said last night. I really want us to get a dog. Not a sappy little poodle, but one that can protect me when you’re away. I’d feel so much safer that way.”
“Baby, we don’t need a dog. We live in a super-secure doorman building. We both work long hours and won’t be able to walk it. Plus, we don’t even have a yard!”
“But we have a terrace!”
She had a point. Her look of disappointment was getting to me. I had to appease her. “Why don’t we wait until we buy a house, and then we can reconsider getting a dog.” Hahaha! We’re NEVER getting a dog!
Jen’s eyes watered. She looked away from me, setting her eyes back on her computer screen and the photos of the rescue dogs. A tear escaped and fell onto her keyboard. Then another and another until she was a full-blown blubbering mess.
“All these poor adorable dogs with no homes! How could you feel that way, Blake?”
There was nothing that gutted me more than seeing my wife cry. I attempted to brush away her tears, but she wouldn’t let me.
“Don’t touch me!” The tears kept falling. We were having a fight. On her birthday, as she ruefully reminded me.
A half-hour later, we were pulling into the parking lot of the West LA Animal Shelter in my sparkling new black Porsche convertible.
Chapter 5
Jennifer
Unlike Blake, I’d never had a dog growing up. As much as I coveted one, being the sheltered, home-schooled, only child I was, it wasn’t possible. My parents, as much as they loved me, refused to let me have one. I had a lot allergies (most of which I outgrew) and because they had me late in life, they were germaphobes and overprotective.
Finally, my lifelong dream of having a dog was about to come true. Or so I hoped. I had guarded optimism as Blake and I walked side by side through the animal shelter, led by a young, attractive volunteer named Tessa. My heart was breaking! God, there were so many dogs that needed good homes! And seeing their sad faces behind bars only made me feel worse.