You Can Never Be Too Rich, Too Handsome Or Too Well Armed

Lolita sat idly twirling a thick lock of hair around her fingers, the silken black strands contrasting with the creamy white of her skin. Her long stocking clad legs were propped up on the desk top, crossed at the ankle with elegant black heels masking the bright red of her freshly pedicured toenails.

Her milky décolleté swelled dangerously above the black satin corset that was laced up the back with cherry red ribbon, mirroring the red lacing on the sides of the matching panties and the red of her lipstick.

Jonathan walked through the arched door way, loosening his tie and frowning to himself as he walked, his hard soled shoes clomping against the hardwood floor until being muted by the thick area rug. His low mutters of frustration came to an abrupt halt when he looked up and his sky blue eyes landed on the woman occupying his leather office chair, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Bad day at the office?” Lolita asked, her voice a sultry purr.

Jonathan felt paralyzed as he fought to change mental gears from the horrendous challenges of the day to the supple flesh of his wife. She was a feast for his senses, both soothing and enflaming him simultaneously, and as a slow smile spread across his face he made his way toward her.

Rounding the end of his desk Jonathan dropped his suit coat over the back of a side chair before slowly approaching her. He touched her ankles, wrapping his long fingers around them and lifting them off the desk as he sank to his knees in front of her. Setting her feet on the floor he slid his hands over the curve of her calves, across the backs of her knees and up her thighs before clutching her hips and pulling her against him.

Lolita wrapped her arms around Jonathan’s broad shoulders and pressed herself against him, locking her legs around his hips as she claimed his mouth. He smelled of vanilla and honey, and tasted of sunshine and rain, an intoxicating blend that never ceased to assault and overwhelm her, leaving her ready to do anything he asked.

Jonathan lifted her up, his arms locked around her and his mouth never stopping its ravenous journey along her neck, across her chest and over her shoulders as he carried her to the large rug before the marble fireplace. They both knelt on the thick carpet and Jonathan pulled at the corset laces that were preventing him from touching more of her skin, his fingers impatient.

Gunfire erupted from the hall and they both spun, diving for cover and Jonathan pulled his 9mm from his belt holster. Moving from cover to cover in a crouch, Jonathan made his way toward the doorway, his eyes scanning for the source of the disruption. Catching movement to his left he dove through the door and somersaulted across the hall, coming up behind a wide table that served as cover.

Lolita rose to her feet and walked across the room, stepping into the hallway and gaining the attention of the intruder. She sauntered toward him, her hips swaying enticingly and the man’s eyes were drawn down to the swell of her breasts, giving her the time she needed to get close to him.

With the speed of a snake she struck, the heel of her hand connecting with his chest with enough force to rupture his heart, and she stared wordlessly as she watched him drop to the floor, bleeding from the ears, nose and eyes.

Jonathan’s eyes watched her as he holstered his gun, watching warily as Lolita walked toward him like a predator.

“Any idea who that was?” she asked as he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her abruptly against his chest.

“Yeah, that’s the man who has been trying to take over the family business. He was pretty insistent I sell, threatened to kill you if I didn’t.”

Lolita smiled at him as she slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, dragging her nails across his skin. Jonathan captured her wrists and held her arms out to the sides, his gaze intensely admiring them, “You know the saying don’t you?” he asked, turning her and pressing her back to the wall with his own body weight, “You can never be too rich, too handsome or too well armed, and you my dear are a triple threat.”

He slipped his hands under the edge of her panties, touching her lightly and smiling when she gripped his hand and pressed it firmly against her heat. “Now,” he whispered, “Where were we?”