Chapter 113: Stress Relief

Later, after Lily was in bed, they sat on the back porch. The garden below was quiet. The fountain ran. The air was cool and clean after the week of rain.

William had a glass of water. He hadn't touched anything stronger in weeks. She'd noticed and hadn't commented.

"Did it survive?" she asked.

"The company?" He looked at the garden. "Something survived. I'm not sure if it's the same company anymore." He continued, "I'm not sure it should be."

She thought about that.

"What is it now?"

He was quiet long enough that she thought he might not answer.

"That's what I kept coming back to, in every meeting, every decision. I want to be able to look at this thing and not flinch."

She looked at the side of his face. The tiredness. The steadiness underneath it.

"And can you look at it without flinching?" She asked

He turned to her.

"Getting there," he said.

She reached over and took his hand. Held his jacket and guided him upstairs to their room. She locked the door behind them.

…

Melissa's lips brushed the shell of his ear as she whispered, her breath warm and deliberate. "I want to relieve you from that work stress."

William felt the words travel down his spine, settling somewhere low in his gut. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, pushing gently but firmly until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

He sat down hard, the springs groaning under his weight. She didn't give him a moment to think.

She climbed onto his lap, her dress riding up as she straddled him, her thighs pressing against his hips. Her hands cupped his face, tilting his head up, and she claimed his mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It was hungry, devouring her tongue sliding against his, her teeth catching his lower lip. William groaned into her mouth, his hands finding her waist, gripping the soft curve of her hips.

She rocked against him, the friction of her core against his hardening cock driving a low growl from his throat.

"Melissa," he murmured, breaking the kiss to catch his breath. "I'm still…"

"Shh." She pressed a finger to his lips, her eyes dark and determined. "You've been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Let me take it off you."

She reached down, her fingers working the button of his trousers, the zipper sliding down with a metallic rasp. She didn't bother with finesse; she pulled his cock out, already thick and eager, and wrapped her hand around the shaft.

She stroked him once, twice, spreading the bead of moisture that pearled at the tip. William's head fell back, his hands clenching in the sheets. "Damn, Melissa."

She smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes, and lifted her hips just enough to align him with her entrance. She was already wet; he could see the glisten on her thighs, could smell her arousal in the air between them.

She sank onto him in one slow, deliberate motion, both of them gasping as he filled her.

She paused, her body shuddering around him, her hands planted on his chest. For a moment, neither of them moved. The air was thick with tension, with the heat of their bodies pressed together, and with the raw intimacy of being joined.

Then she began to move.

Slow at first, a rolling motion that drew him in and out with maddening precision. Her hips circled, grinding against him, her clit pressing against his pubic bone with each cycle.

William's hands slid up her back, pulling her close, burying his face in the curve of her neck. He inhaled her scent: lavender soap, the faint salt of sweat, the unmistakable musk of sex.

"You feel so good," he whispered against her skin, his voice ragged.

She responded by speeding up, her breath coming in short, sharp moans that matched the rhythm of her movements.

The bed creaked beneath them, a steady, rhythmic percussion that filled the room. Melissa's head fell back, her throat exposed, her breasts bouncing beneath her dress.

William reached up, pulled the straps of her dress down her shoulders, baring her. Her nipples were hard, pebbled, and he took one into his mouth, suckling hard, flicking his tongue across the sensitive tip.

She cried out, her hips bucking, her pace faltering as pleasure shot through her.

"Don't stop," she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her chest. "God, William, don't stop."

He didn't. He gripped her hips, helping her ride him, driving deeper with each thrust. The wet sounds of their fucking grew louder, more frantic, the air thick with their combined heat.

Melissa's moans turned into a high, keening wail as her climax built, coiled tight in her belly, ready to snap.

"Come for me," he urged, his voice a low command. "Let go, Melissa. I've got you."

She shattered with a cry, her body convulsing around him, her inner walls clenching and releasing in waves of pleasure. He felt her climax ripple through her, felt her shudder and collapse against him, her breath hot and ragged in his ear.

He wasn't far behind. He thrust up into her, two more times, three, and then he was coming, spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan that seemed to come from somewhere primal. His release was long, hot, pulsing, filling her as she milked him with aftershocks.

They stayed locked together, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat.

The room was quiet except for their gasps and the soft hum of the ceiling fan. Melissa's forehead rested against his, her eyes closed, her lips parted.

After a long moment, she stirred. She lifted herself off him slowly, a trail of his cum sliding down her thigh. She didn't bother to clean it.

Instead, she pulled the covers aside, guiding him to lie down properly. She curled up beside him, her head on his chest, her leg thrown over his.

William's arm wrapped around her, his hand stroking her hair back. The tension in his shoulders, the weight of deadlines and meetings, the endless grind melted away. Here, in her arms, none of it mattered.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice sleepy, content.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you too."

Within minutes, her breathing evened out, soft and steady against his skin. He watched the moonlight filter through the curtains, listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat, and let himself drift.

The last thing he felt before sleep claimed him was her hand, still resting over his heart.