HIS STRIPPER, HIS WIFE novel Chapter 94

Chapter 94

Bianca’s POV

I got tired of sitting there alone with nothing but the television for company, so I grabbed the remote and turned the volume up, letting some random show fill the silence while I waited. A few minutes passed before I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and I already knew who it was before I even turned around.

“So take care of yourself, Bianca. See you later, if Adrian wants,” she said, walking past me fast, not even slowing down enough for me to properly respond.

I turned around and just nodded, genuinely not knowing what to say to that. There was something about the way she said it, like she already knew more than she was letting on, that left me sitting there blinking at her back as she disappeared through the front door.

It shut behind her with a soft click, and almost immediately after, I heard Adrian’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Sorry about that,” he said, appearing at the bottom of the staircase, fully dressed now in a fresh shirt, looking far too relaxed for someone who had gone inside with a serious face.

I just shook my head. “It’s fine,” I said, forcing a smile.

He walked over and settled back into the exact spot he had been sitting in before his sister interrupted us, stretching one arm along the back of the couch like nothing had happened at all.

“So, where were we?” he asked, completely at ease.

“Where were we?” I repeated, leaning back on the couch, my finger on my chin like I am thinking about it.

“You were being asked if I’m the same woman from the bed and the couch, or a different one,” I said, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.

“That can…” he started, then paused, tilting his head slightly like he was trying to process what I had just said. “Wait, no way you are…” He burst out laughing before he could even finish the sentence.

“You can’t be serious. Don’t tell me you’re actually believing her?” he said, still laughing, clearly finding the whole thing far more amusing than I did.

I rolled my eyes hard, arms crossing over my chest, and that was when I realized too. Was I actually jealous? Why did it even matter to me what his sister thought, or what she had implied? Why was my chest tightening over something that shouldn’t have concerned me at all, especially not with a man who was supposed to just be my boss, nothing more, nothing complicated?

“Don’t tell me that was the only thing you picked up from everything she said and did back there?” he asked, still grinning, clearly enjoying watching me squirm more than he should have.

“No, that just came first,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed somewhere on the television screen, refusing to look directly at him.

“Oh, really?” he said, shifting slightly closer on the couch, his voice dropping into something lower, more teasing. “Or are you jealous?”

“What? No, I…” My voice trailed off completely. I sat there trying to think of something clever to say, something that would shut the conversation down before it went any further, but nothing came. I felt exactly like someone who had been caught red handed, and honestly, there wasn’t much I could do about it at that point.

“What do you want to do with me?” he asked suddenly, and for a second I genuinely didn’t understand the question, my brain scrambling to catch up.

I looked at him, confused, my eyebrows pulling together, and he must have realized how that sounded as he quickly added, “I mean, you’re staying here until night, so what do you want us to do together?”

“Oh my Goddd…” My moan was louder than the first time. The extra finger made everything tighter, fuller, and the pressure against that sensitive spot inside me had my thighs trembling around his wrist.

His hand held my neck as he kept going in and out of me, not choking hard, just enough pressure to keep my 2/3 head tilted back against the arm of the couch, forcing me to look at him while he worked those fingers deep.

“You are the only one I want to do this to… Is that clear?” He said. His voice was very calm like he wasn’t knuckle-deep inside me right then. I was now laying flat on the couch, my legs spread wider because of how he had positioned himself between them.

His hand left my neck for a minute and he pulled the big shirt off me smoothly. The cool air hit my skin and my nipples tightened instantly, then his hand returned to my neck to pin me down again. His three fingers were still going in and out inside me, slower now, twisting a little on the way out so the tips dragged against every sensitive place.

While his teeth were now biting my nipple softly, the roughness of it all was driving me crazy. It was soft enough not to hurt, but firm enough that each little tug sent a fresh feeling straight down between my legs where his fingers kept moving.

I could feel myself getting wetter around him, the slick sound of it almost embarrassing, but he didn’t seem to care. He just kept that same focused expression, like he was determined to make me fall apart right there on his living room couch.

“I said, is that very clear?” He repeated

My mouth opened but no real words came out at first, just another broken sound when he curled those fingers and pressed harder against that spot that made my hips jerk up to meet his hand.

He didn’t stop, he didn’t even slow down while the pressure on my neck stayed steady, his thumb resting against the side of my throat was still there so it was easier for him to feel every swallow and every shaky breath.

I tried again. “Y-yes…” It came out weak.