The CEO I Love Wants to Kill Me

CIARA'S POV

I could tell it was my husband from the way he tilted his head and sharp blue eyes peeked out through the mask and stared intensely at me from across the crowded hall like he wanted to drag me into the nearest dark corner and fuck me against the wall until I forgot my own name.

It'd been so long since Simon looked at me with that kind of naked hunger. Lately, he's too busy to even spare me a glance.

I love him regardless, because he's working that hard just to keep me... and my family happy.

I adjusted the mask as I looked away and moved to join the small group of ladies chatting. When I glanced back, he was still staring now even leaned back into the cushion to eye fuck me properly.

The way his eyes linger on my exposed cleavage and bare thighs through the high slit of my dinner dress causes heat to rise between my thighs. Maybe he misses this version of me?

I do like the attention, I won't lie. I made extra effort to look this... eatable for the birthday celebration. I push my chest forward, so the silk strains tighter around the nipples. I slowly direct my hands over the bodice, cupping, lifting as my thumbs brush the hard peaks through the fabric as though I’m only adjusting the dress. I’m not. I’m stroking myself for him.

Oh heaven, forgive me, I'm seducing my husband at his own father's birthday party like some desperate shameless thing.

The muscles bulge beneath his suit as he straightens, adjusting something I believe to be a strain in his pants. He was sitting between three completely tatted men, which wasn't exactly his usual type of crowd, but as a host, I do want him to mingle.

It's suddenly too hot in here, and my inner thighs are trembling like crazy, slickness gathering, threatening to dampen the lace already clinging to me.

I glance around the crowded hall. I don't think this party is getting started anytime soon. If he’s this wound up tonight, I need him inside me now, before some cousin or business associate pulls him away again.

I blew him a kiss, bite my lips more aggressively, and discreetly smacked my ass before rounding the corner and taking the stairs down to the storage room. When I glance back, he's already on his feet and mumbling something to the men before running off after me.

I let out a chuckle and quickened my pace. I step into the room, leaving the door unlocked.

The smell of dust rises to my nose as I struggle to sit on the stacked wine crates. I pack my dress to my hips and spread my thighs. I don't bother with the upper part because Simon never looks there.

Since my husband does nothing remotely close to foreplay, I quickly pull down my panties. All I want tonight is just for my clip to be touched by something other than my fingers. The panties hook on my heels and try to untangle them.

In the little times we've actually had sex since our four-year marriage, Simon likes to quickly shove his cock into my pussy and out as quickly as possible without ever coming, but it makes the both of us because I have to finish off my orgasm myself too.

Simon has been the best partner and I love him so dearly, but we’ve never quite figured each other out in bed.

The door is pushed open as he steps in, and I cannot believe how large his erection. It's literally burning holes in his pants. I have never had that effect on him before. He pauses at the door for too long, his eyes glued to my widespread legs and wet panties still tangled in my ankle and heels.

Shit, for one terrible second I think he might turn and leave. That the stare from across the room was about paperwork, not pussy.

He looks almost stunned. I’ve never been this bold with him before. Maybe I’ve underestimated how much he likes to watch.

"You have no idea what you’ve just done, Ciara." His voice sounds slightly different against the muffled party music.