25 million dollars.

Between buying the building itself and hiring renovators, I had spent well over 25 million dollars for this school. As I stood in front of the building looking at my investment, which was only a week from opening and it still had scaffolding outside.

The renovations were running behind, and when I called personally to demand answers why, the only response I could get from my contractor was, “talk to your wife.”

So there I was, after a particularly grueling day at work, trying to undo all the harm my father had done to our name to talk to my wife and find out what was taking so long. And why, after leaving for work before I did, was she still here?

She may have been ready to take the world by storm, but I was still in the honeymoon phase and wanted my wife in my bed, naked, as often as I could.

I walked inside and, much to my annoyance—but not surprise—the inside was even worse than the outside. 

Tarps were piled all over the floor. Rags and empty buckets of paint with brushes still sticking out of them were everywhere. I had to step around the mess to find a path to the back room where I could hear pop music blaring.

Amelia was there, her gorgeous chestnut locks tied up with a colorful scarf as she was dressed in denim overalls and a long sleeve t-shirt that had paint splotches all over it. She was a mess, with a bright blue splotch of paint across her nose, but she was glowing.

She sang along to the top 20 hit, dancing around with a paintbrush in her hand as she dry brushed textured marks in a light blue over the dark blue the walls that had already been painted.

“You know, we can hire people for that,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and I was about to lean on to the door frame when I saw a white drop of paint slowly make its way down the wood and thought better of it. 

That was a disrespect that my Armani suit did not deserve.

She turned to me and her face lit up in an even brighter smile as she saw me.

“What do you think?” she said, motioning to the wall. 

“I like the effect, but not the impact.” I answered honestly.

“What does that mean?” 

“It means it looks beautiful, but sweetheart, you’re a week from opening and the contractors can’t get in here to finish the jobs and get everything ready on time.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Amelia said, waving me off. “I just want to put my personal touch on each room. I want to say that I helped build the school from the ground up. That I did more than just sign checks.”

“I understand that,” I said, sidestepping a puddle of paint and barely avoiding a splotch of paint that was dripping from the ceiling. “You are doing far more than signing checks. You are the heart and soul of this place. It wouldn’t be happening without you. Still, you are a patron, not a painter. We pay people to handle the messier tasks.”

“Now, where is the fun in that?” she asked, her back to me as she kept working.

“The fun is in not getting dirty.”

She set down the paintbrush she was using and wiped her hands on her overalls before turning to give me a mischievous grin.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you afraid to get a little dirty?”

“Amelia,” I warned, taking a step back, trying to avoid the constant drip of paint, as she picked up a roller that was coated in the still wet dark blue. “I prefer my messes contained. Thank you very much.”

“Oh, of course. I completely understand,” she said a little too seriously, her eyebrows scrunching down in the middle of her forehead. “It would be such a shame if something happened to that impeccably tailored suit.”

I opened my mouth to agree with her when she reached out with the roller and painted a long thick stripe from my tie to my belt.

“Amelia,” I said, not quite believing she had just done that. “This is Armani.”

“Oh no,” she said sarcastically, placing her hand on her cheek, smearing a little more blue paint on her face. “Not the Armani, whatever will we do? I mean, you only have 15 more identical suits in your closet. This is an emergency. We should call Nordstrom. Do they have an emergency number? Or is that a Saks only kind of thing?”

“You really think this is funny, don’t you?” I said, putting my hands back on my hips and trying really hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

“I’m just trying to share my vision with you,” she said before erupting into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, it’s like that,” I said, taking off the now ruined tie and dropping the jacket on the floor. “I see, well two can play at that game.”

“Uh,” Amelia backed away, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she held the paint roller up defensively. “You know, there’s just so much work I need to get done tonight that I—”

 Her words turned into a scream as I wrapped my arms around her waist and took the paint roller out of her hands. Throwing it over to the side somewhere. 

“No, okay I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” she said over and over, giggling as I tickled her.

“Sorry, you’re sorry? I don’t know if I believe that. Come on honey, I just want to see what your vision is,” I teased as I continued to tickle her, and she tried to pull away.

I let her slip out of my grasp, and she ran to the next room, giggling. The idea of a chase was exciting, so I gave her a few minutes’ head start as I rolled up my sleeves.

“Amelia,” I called. “Where are you, love?”

“I’m not telling,” she called from somewhere upstairs. I followed her voice up the polished wood stairs and found her overalls crumpled in a pile at the bottom of the banister. 

I loved it when she got playful like this.

“Amelia,” I called again.

This time she didn’t answer, but I heard her muffled giggles from a few rooms over. I entered that room just to find the long sleeve shirt she was wearing on the floor.

We continued our little hunt and seek game. Each time I found another article of her clothing: a shoe, a sock, the scarf that was in her hair, and my mouth water as I followed the trail. I crept silently past her bra, knowing that the only thing she had left on were the tiny white lace panties I saw her put on this morning.

When I came to a door that was mostly closed, I peeked in and I saw her standing with her back towards me, looking at a piece of paper on her desk. She closed the file and slid down her panties, leaving my next clue. Silently, I crept into the room and as she stood with her panties now at her feet; I grabbed her by the waist and effortlessly picked her up, swinging her around.

She screamed again and more giggles erupted from her until I pressed my lips to hers in a searing, claiming kiss. Our little game was fun, but I was done playing. I had my prize.

She melted into my kiss, her fingers immediately going to my shirt and working to get it off of me. 

“What’s wrong, wife? Don’t want to get messy,” I teased as she tossed my paint covered shirt aside. 

The wet paint had soaked through to my chest and smeared on her bare breasts. I ran my thumb over her breast, spreading the blue. 

“I want to get very messy,” she said as her fingers went down to my pants and she pulled my belt off. 

Pride swelled in my chest, knowing that my wife was just as desperate for me as I was for her. 

“Is this your office?” I asked, fascinated by the way the blue looked on her delicate skin, how dark it was compared to the pale pink of her hardening nipple.

“Yes, why?” she asked as she unzipped my pants. 

I knocked her hand away, and grabbed her by the hips, picking her up and moving to her tarp covered desk, setting her down right where her computer would go. 

“Because I intend on making a mess, and I want you to be reminded of the painting that I can do every single time you sit at this desk to get some work done. Stay.” I ordered as I went out to the hallway to find another can of the same color and brought it in. I shrugged off my shirt, so I was only wearing my pants, open at the fly, barely hanging off of my hips. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“Showing you my vision.” I took the thin paintbrush, no doubt used for detailing out of the paint, and drew a line from the dip in her collarbone between her breasts down to her belly button. Then another swipe with the brush circling her nipples, teasing them with soft bristles. 

“Luc, please,” she whined, her hips rocking up, trying to get some friction. 

“No, you had your time to paint. Now it’s my turn. You wanted to be messy, so I am going to make you very messy.” 

She arched her hips up again, and I could see the wetness glistening in her slit. My mouth watered as I thought about how unbelievably sweet she would taste. 

I painted a few more lines, following the soft elegant curves of her body, teasing her, tormenting her, watching as she became my own erotic masterpiece. 

“Is this what you want to distract me from my work? Images of you standing over me, shirtless, with a paintbrush? I’m never going to get anything done.” 

She was still whining; her need growing. Soon the little control she had would snap, and she was going to demand more from me, but I wasn’t done painting yet. 

I moved one hand to her hips, placing my palm on top of her pussy, holding her down, while my thumb moved between her delicate lips and started circling her clit. She moaned and her back arched, stretching my canvas. 

The paintbrush glided through the paint on her skin as I drew intricate designs of lines and swirls, tracing the lines of her body and decorating the flat planes of her stomach, as well as the generous mounds of her breast, all while teasing her. 

“Luc, please,” she panted. “I need, I need–”

Her words were swallowed by another moan as I threw the paint brush aside and thrust into her in one solid movement. 

“Is that what you need?” I asked, pumping into her over and over, hitting and angles that I knew drove her mad. 

“God, yes, more.” Her hand griped the edge of the desk above her head while I moved her legs to my shoulders, lifting her just enough that I could hit deeper. 

I could feel her tight cunt gripping me tighter, pulsing with pleasure, and I knew she was close. Thank fuck, because I didn’t know how long I could last watching her covered in blue paint, her beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust as she begged for more.

Fuck, even if she would not think of this every single time she was in this office, I definitely would.

“You like being a mess, baby?” I teased as I pressed my thumb against her clit and rubbing it in tight circles, demanding her body come for me.

“Yes,” she gasped just before she gave in to her orgasm, and I could see the wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her as her back bowed and she led out a cry of ecstasy.

I pulled out, pumping my cock hard and fast as I came all over her, adding to my masterpiece. 

We both rested against the desk, catching our breath, as I laced my fingers with hers. After this, I was taking her home, then I was going to devour every inch of her in the shower before I made love to her in our bed. 

“I am never getting any work done here,” she said, breaking the silence, making us both laugh. 

Brutally His Bonus Scene

“Harrison, get your head out of your ass and look at the facts,” Eddie said, throwing her hands in the hair in frustration. 

“I may be your husband, but this is still my office. I am still the DA and I still get to decide the charges we bring against this murderer. This man is going down for first degree murder. I will try it myself if I have to.” I stood, buttoning my jacket, and faced off against the love of my life. Eddie was brilliant, but still just a paralegal and a law student. “While we are in this office, you will show me the respect I deserve.”

“Then look at the facts of the case, counselor, not the media circus around it,” she said, planting her hands on my desk, giving me the most delicious view down her shirt. My wife may have scoffed at the price of our home, the car service, even our dry-cleaning bill, but she had taken to La Perla quite well. 

“You are not stupid, so stop acting like it,” she snapped, pulling me back to reality.

My god, this woman was infuriating. 

“The man killed three people, one of whom was a child. He deserves life in prison for murder! This is homicide, open and closed.” I said, matching her stance, looking straight into her intense green eyes, loving the anger and the fight behind them.

“This is manslaughter at best,” she said between clenched teeth. “There was no intent. You’re being reckless. I want to know why.”

“I’m not being reckless. I’m looking at the evidence of the case.” My voice was getting louder with every single point I was making, while hers was getting lower, more sinister. 

It was a tactic. 

When one side got emotional, you stayed in control. I could recognize that a mile off, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still effective. I should know, I was the one who taught it to her.

“No, there is no evidence of intent. He should be charged with manslaughter. Stop letting the media pressure you to crucify a man for an accident.”

“This wasn’t a–”

“This was absolutely an accident. None of this was premeditated. He’s being crucified because he’s poor and the people who died in this accident were not.”

“You’re being petulant,” I snapped. 

“You’re being short-sighted, and manipulated by the media,” she shot back, meeting my gaze. 

My wife, my beautiful, stubborn, arrogant, brilliant wife, was going to be the death of me. She was the only person who challenged me and half the time; I was pretty sure she did it just because she could. I didn’t know if I wanted to strangle her or fuck some sense into her. 

“Eddie–” I started, then collapsed back into my desk chair, undoing that damn button again. 

“No, Harrison, you say that you respect my opinion and then you don’t listen to it.”

Fuck, I hated it when she was right. 

“Make your case, counselor,” I said, smirking to myself as I could see her cheeks flush a bit, a reminder of the last time I had used those words against her.

“Mr. Davidson had just come off working a double shift,” she started. 

“Relevance?” I asked her to goad her. 

She shot me an annoyed look before pacing back and forth in front of my desk, in her pencil skirt that I had a love-hate relationship with. I loved the way it hugged her ass, and I hated other men got to see her in it. 

“Speaks to the defendant’s state of mind,” she snapped. “He had just gotten off of a double shift, that was worked overnight because the owner of the factory, a Mr. Manwarring, your sister’s father-in-law, hires non-union workers to do late night shifts to–”

“And what is the relevance of my relationship to the owner of the factory that employs the defendant?”

This time she stopped, put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at me as if it were obvious.

“Because the media is going to have a field day when you lose this case–no, you’re not even going to lose this case when it is dismissed because it looks like you are prosecuting to protect a family member.”

“I hardly consider Lucian Manwarring family. I barely like Luc, and he is my best friend.” Still, I was impressed. A law student and she put together an argument about a personal connection that most would never see. Yes, she had an advantage since she knew me, knew my family. But how many prosecutors would look into the employer of a defendant in a hit and run?

“Still, you know as well as I do the optics matter.”

“So, because of optics, you want me to let a man go after he killed three people?”

She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, and I knew she was losing her composure. She was passionate about the law and had a ferocity that I thought was the sexiest thing I have ever seen, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still inexperienced.

“I know it’s been a while since you’ve been in law school, so take notes,” she bit out. I had definitely lit the fire inside of her. “For something to be considered murder, it has to be premeditated. There has to be intent. If anything, this is manslaughter. These people were killed in an accident, an accident that if I were the one on this case, I would argue was caused by Lucian Manwaring’s unethical labor standards. Mr. Davidson was forced to work a double shift so he could afford to feed his family. Had Manwarring hired the defendant above board, he would have been in the union, and would not have been forced to work two shifts well into the early morning hours. Not only would he not have been on the road, he would have been well rested.”

“So you’re saying you know beyond the shadow of a doubt that had Mr. Davidson been a member of the union, he wouldn’t have been on the road? Do you have some type of legal crystal ball that I am unaware of?” 

“Harrison, I swear to god–”

“No, baby girl,” I said, standing and moving to sit on the edge of my desk in front of her. “You swear to me, always.”

“You are not a legal god. I don’t care what my professors say.” 

“I bet they would say a lot more if you finally took my name,” I pointed out. 

“We have been over this. I will make my mark with my name because I earned it. Not because I married the great and powerful Harrison Astrid.” She put her hand on my chest to stop me from trying to kiss her. I narrowed my eyes in protest, but bit my tongue. I understood her drive, and her need to prove herself. More than understood it, I admired it. But I still hated that I couldn’t claim her as my own in public. 

“Fine, the evidence in this case still points to first degree murder.”

“Then you haven’t read the case file,” she snapped. “Mr. Davidson didn’t know the victims. He didn’t hate them, he didn’t aim for them, he fell asleep at the wheel. If you charge him for murder and it falls through, which it absolutely will–because every attorney in Manhattan is going to volunteer to take this case pro-bono just to take a bite out of you. Once this case gets dismissed, they are absolutely going to turn around and go after Manwarring Enterprises for labor law violations. Then they’re going to target you for malicious prosecution.”

“They would have no grounds.” 

“They would have plenty of evidence.”

“Circumstantial,” I scoffed

“But enough,” she bit back, facing me directly, her hands on her hips. 

“So, is that what you’re really worried about? You’re not worried I’m going to put an innocent man in jail for murder. You’re worried that I’m going to get dragged through the mud.”

“No.” She put her hands on either side of my neck, running her fingers through my hair, before tightening them and pulling my hair back, forcing me to look up into her eyes as she stepped between my legs. “I’m worried they’re going to drag you through the mud and realize I’m your wife and I’m going to go down with you.”

“That seems like a very unethical reason to lower the charges,” I said, as my hand snaked around her waist and pulled her to me hard enough to knock her off her balance so she fell into me and my lips crashed on top of hers claiming her.

“That’s not what I-” I silenced her protest with another kiss, sliding my tongue in between her teeth and tasting how unbelievably sweet she was. My hands moved down her body to her hips, and I started itching her skirt up her thighs.

“I don’t care. It’s my case. I will try it as I see fit, and if you have a problem with that Mrs. Astrid, then I can take you over my knee and remind you who you work for.”

“But–”

“Nope.” I stood up and in the same move, grabbed her by the back of her neck and bent her over my desk, her ass high in the air, stretching that pencil skirt to its limits. Through the back slit, I could just see the black lace of the tops of her thigh highs. 

That little minx knew what she was doing. She knew they drove me wild, just like it drove me crazy when she barged into my office to argue. 

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” I asked, caressing her ass. “Am I not giving you enough attention at home? Do you feel the need to barge into my office and pick a fight just so I’ll punish you?”

“Let me go,” she said between clinched teeth. I could see the way her hands held on to the edge of my desk. She didn’t want to go anywhere.

“No, I seem to remember us having this discussion before, about your role in this office and what was and wasn’t permitted. True or false, counselor, barging into my office is something I encourage my paralegals to do.”

“False,” she said between clinched teeth.

“True or false, the last time you did this I spanked your perfect little ass until tears rolled down your cheeks and then I—”

“False,” she bit out. “Last time I did this, you knew I was right and so you ate my pussy as a reward.”

That earned her one swift smack to the ass. I loved watching her ass jiggle in the confines of that tight little skirt, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying. I reached up, ready to pull down the zipper to make her wiggle out of it so I could spank her properly, when there was a knock at my door followed quickly by the temp filling in at my secretary’s desk walking in staring at her phone.

Immediately I let go of Eddie, and she stood up and moved over to the window.

“Can I help you?” I barked at the temp. She still didn’t look up from her phone.

“Yeah,” she said, snapping her gum. “Someone dropped this off for you to sign.” 

“Put it on the table over there and get out.”

She looked up, a little confused, then looked to me and to Eddie and then the papers strewn all over my desk.

“Miss. Smith, we have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it. Drop the files at the table and I’ll deal with them later.”

“Sure thing.” She snapped her gum again, dropping the files in a heap on the coffee table, and then left, closing the door behind her.

“Remind me to call the agency and make sure she is not allowed back here,” I said.

“Absolutely not. Her being oblivious is the only reason we just got away with being in a very compromising position.” Eddie ran her fingers through her hair. “We can’t get caught doing things like this in the office, Harrison. It will ruin everything.” 

“You trying to tell me you don’t find the idea of being caught in a compromising position exciting? I thought you loved having sex in public places; this office, that jail cell, the bathroom of the courthouse before and after we exchanged vows, the limo—”

“You have made your point, counselor,” she snapped, her cheeks turning an adorable shade of red. 

“No, I don’t think I have,” I said subtly, hitting the button under my desk, so the door was locked. “My point had more to do with why you think you can march into my office unannounced to pick a fight.”

I grabbed her by the back of her neck again, lacing my fingers in her hair as I pulled her roughly to me, her body slamming against mine as I devour her lips, sinking my teeth into her bottom lip, driving her fucking crazy.

“Harrison, we can’t! Anyone can walk through that door,” she said, and I turned her around so she was facing the window.

“I would be more concerned about the people who are going to hear you scream if you don’t behave. Put your hands on the glass,” I growled in her ear as I moved my hands down her body, stopping to squeeze her supple breasts before I pulled the sides of her shirt apart. Each button slipping through its hole one at a time until her chest was exposed, then moved down to the waistband of her skirt.

“Harrison—” she warned.

“If I reach between your legs and pet your pretty little pussy right now, would it be wet for me?”

She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and I knew exactly what that meant.

“Say it,” I demanded.

“Yes.”

“Did you come in here afraid I was going to take a case, or did you come in here because you needed something?”

“I was worried about the case,” she lied, her index finger tapping on the glass, giving her away.

“Liar,” I accused. “What happened to working in good faith, Mrs. Carmichael-Astrid?”

“I—”

I didn’t wait to hear her response, instead I just snapped the button holding her skirt together in the back and then pushed the fabric down her generous hips until it piled on the floor. It left her in nothing but a black lace thong and silk thigh high tights that made my mouth water.

I ran my hand up the back of her thigh and then over the round curve of her ass, smacking it once hard enough to make her jump. and then again on the other side before running my fingers under the strip of fabric, and that was nestled between her cheeks.

“You keep interrupting my workday. Soon, a spanking will not be enough,” I said, pressing my thumb to her asshole. She pushed back on my hand with a deep moan.

“Harrison” she gasped.

“But what if someone walks in?” I teased as I unzipped my pants and stroked my cock to its full length.

“Did you hit the button?” she asked, her head snapping up, and she turned to face me. I grabbed the back of her neck to hold her still.

“You better hope I did,” I said as I pushed inside of her with one hard thrust.

Both of her hands were back on the glass and although it was tinted and no one could see in, I really enjoyed feeling like anyone could see me claim my wife.

I pulled open her shirt off and then folded the cups of her bra down so they held up her breasts and taunt little nipples, bouncing with every single thrust.

“Anyone could look up here and see you,” I whispered in her ear. “Anyone can look up and see the way my paralegal likes to get fucked.”

“Harrison,” she moaned again, as I slid my fingers down the front of her body, one hand still grasping her breast, pinching her nipples while the other one worked her clit.

“If you wanted to come, all you had to do was come in here in and beg. I would have happily spread you out on my desk and had you for lunch. But you had to start a fucking fight.”

“You only fuck me like this when you know I’m right,” she said, pushing back into me and riding my cock while standing. 

Fuck, this woman was going to be the death of me. I closed my eyes and let her have the control for a moment, loving the way her pussy squeezed me when she thought she had the power. 

When she squeezed me tighter, I knew she was close, so I grabbed her by the waist and picked her up, swinging her around to my desk. With my hand holding her down at her shoulder blades, I pumped into her hard and fast, loving the way her ass jiggled with each thrust and the way she barley muffled her moans by biting into her forearm. 

“Be a good girl and come for me and I might let you get back to work, instead of spending the rest of the workday under the table licking your juices from my cock.” 

Almost immediately she came, her back bowing and her thighs trembling as I fucked her through her orgasm into another. When she was panting, that was when I gave in and filled her with my cum, coating her walls over and over.

I collapsed back into my chair to catch my breath and after a moment; she crawled into my lap and let me hold her. 

“Is that what you came in here for?” I asked.

“No, that defendant should be charged with manslaughter,” she said, placing a kiss on my neck.

“I know. The officer who arrested him wrote up as a homicide. I updated the charges a few hours ago,” I said, laughing as she smacked my chest. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And miss a chance to argue with my wife? Never.”