Chapter Forty-Four

                                    

                                          
Chapter Forty-Four
Wade
"Her phone is turned off, sir. We couldn't trace her location—"
Useless motherfuckers.
I throw my phone on the coffee table, my feet eating up the floor of the penthouse like it's their goddamn supper. Nothing like a déjà vu. Yet this time it's not fear or fucking worry that fuels my every step. I'm a blazing inferno, ready to thrash the whole place with my bare hands.
I got back from the conference meeting with good news hanging on my tongue when I found my office empty. Her laptop encased in peach cover and retro stickers was still on my desk. While mine, which I clearly remembered I stored on my briefcase, was fucking opened with my inbox on display.
At first, I was confused. My exhilaration hissed to a dull hum. Then, as my gaze focused, I saw the emails forwarded by one of the employees from the PR department. Panic ascended violently in my throat when I realized that she found out I was reading her emails without her permission.
How am I going to justify this? How am I any different from his father's advisor? Was she mad?
Why the fuck would she be mad?
I was on the verge of confiding with Google and typing "How to un-mad your woman?" when I saw the pathetic piece of paper under my black mug.
'Meeting with Bryan. I'll be back. Don't try to find me.′
How is that comforting? Of course, I'm going to find her! While I have a vague idea of what went down between her and the asshole, I'm still uncertain of the extent of his obsessive tendencies. I was taking care of him for her like she asked me to do all those months ago. Why was she compelled to endure his presence all on her own?
"Goddamn woman didn't know when to pick her battles," I huff under my breath.
The piece of paper burns a hole in my suit pocket as I dial my wife's phone for the hundredth time. It ends like my previous attempt, the call going straight to voicemail.
I've been thinking of sensible scenarios or purposes why she would meet Bryan Harris. But it was always a dead-end. There was no plausible reason why she had to see him, or why she had to keep their rendezvous a secret from me. Her husband. The man she's committed to.
When the elevator dings, my head swivels so fast that the veins on my neck almost snap.
There she fucking is.
The same woman I left hours ago. Her dark hair is still pulled up in a high ponytail, her peach dress shows off all her curves, and her heels are so high that it makes her look taller than her five-foot frame. The only difference is, her eyes are red and her skin has grown a little paler.
My anger dissipates...a little. But she left me long enough for the flames to brew that I open my mouth as soon as I see her. Yet, she immediately kills the words on my lips when she holds up a hand. "I'm not in the mood to deal with your caveman behaviors. Please. Let's spare each other the trouble and keep our vicious words to ourselves."
She walks past me as I stand there in shock. Un-fucking-believable. The door to our room opens and her heels land on the floor with a loud thud. I blow two huge breaths of air before I follow her. It's obvious she's upset about something. The urge to find out what happened overpowers my anger.
Megan is lying face-first in the middle of the bed. Her shoes are thrown hastily on the side while her dress pools haphazardly in front of me. 
I undress as well. The bed dips as I climb over her naked, slim figure, planting wet kisses on her elegant shoulders, down to the length of her spine. My thumbs trace lazy circles on the side of her hips as I do so. I hear her breathing grow unsteady, her fists curling on the satin sheets.
When she speaks, her voice is quivering. "What are you doing?"
"You didn't want to fight. So let's fuck instead."
My trail halts when she turns around, her face resembling a lioness ready to bite my ass off. A chuckle tumbles out of me. However, her next words stiffen my loosening muscles. "Are you going to punish me?"
I scan her face, searching for the cause of her sudden question. Megan, my beautiful prude wife, has never initiated a scene. She always waits for my first move, and even then, she hesitates to let go. I have to ask several times, making sure I'm not forcing her into doing anything she doesn't want. A never-ending discussion that I didn't know I had the patience to go through until her.
If a woman displays the first sign of hesitation, I'm already out.
But something in her awakens the patient man in me. For her, I'll wait and wait until she's all in. Discuss until our mouths run dry. And take things slow until she's the one asking for what she wants.
She grips my arms, causing me to refocus back on her face and out of my mind. Her eyes are sad and pleading. And for the first time in a long while, I'm at a loss for words. So I stay on the path that we're both heading towards at the moment.
I smirk, caressing her face tenderly. "I didn't like you running around without my permission, Carmichael. Of course, punishment is in order."
I place my knee between her legs, nudging them open. Then my hand travels south. The rough pads of my fingers find her folds, sliding up and down, up and down, until I completely spread her pool of heat. My grin widens as her face pinches in pleasure, the tiny moans dripping from her plump lips dissolving my anger completely.
My fingers go lower, finding her second opening. Her whole body tenses at the contact, her eyes locking with mine. But I give nothing away, letting her know that I mean business. I massage her buttocks, her slick pussy taunting me as I open her legs wider, baring the entirety of her to my gaze. "I'm taking you here tonight. Would you let me?"
The familiar war rages in her eyes, but her doubts don't take long to disappear this time.
She bites her lips, nodding.
My voice is gruff as I speak, the excitement spreading through my skin. I know the implication of her permission. How big of a step this is for her. I don't ask her one more time like I often do, nor do I ask for words to confirm her consent. The determination in her gaze only communicates one thing. And I trust her well enough that she will stop me without hesitation like she always does. Her safe words are already at the tip of her tongue before I even fuck up.
"I'm going to put a dildo the size of my cock in your ass, spank you hard while I'm at it until it's begging for the real thing. Until you are begging for the real thing..." I envelop the base of her neck with my hand, squeezing gently. "Ready?"
She sucks in a breath as I tighten my grip. "Yes, please, Mr. Simon."
"I'm warning you, though." My smirk deepens. "You'll be begging an awful lot before I give it to you. Then you're going to fucking tell me every fucking thing that's going on inside your head while you are with that fucker.
"Your ass should be the only thing that is red while you're under my care. Not those pretty eyes, my love."