“Just for a minute?” I’m pretty much begging at this point, but she’s so descriptive, I can imagine how good it will feel.

“I can’t go into work with blow-job lips.” She shoves the last of her bagel in her mouth, pushing it to the side so one of her cheeks puffs out, reminding me exactly what she looks like when she’s doing what we’re talking about, minus the chewing.

“Blow-job lips?”

She swallows, then swipes the back of her hand across her mouth to get rid of the crumbs. “You know, when they’re all swollen and flushed, like I’ve been licking them too much. Charlene will notice.”

“Why would it matter if Charlene notices?” He’s still exposed, hanging out, all lonely like, so I grab on to him and give him a stroke, drawing Violet’s attention there.

“Jimmy and Dean will notice, too.”

Those guys work in Violet’s department. The four of them work on a lot of projects together. I’d be more concerned about how much time she spends with them, except Violet once kindly informed me that they’re much more attracted to me than they are to her.

“You could touch it instead.” I cringe at my pleading tone.

I earn more than eight million dollars a year. I’m team captain and center. I have the second-best scoring stats in the league. My cock is huge. I’m nice to look at, and I’m in great physical condition. I shouldn’t have to beg my fiancée to touch my dick; she should want to ride it every minute of every day—in my fantasies anyway. In reality, I know that’s not how life works.

“I don’t think a handy is a good idea, either. Still too distracting. Besides, we’re already here.” She gestures to her work, which I almost drive past. Instead I double park and piss off the cars behind me.

“I’ll see you tonight.” She leans over and kisses me, then lowers her head and plants one on the head of my poor, throbbing cock. “I’ll suck you later.”

Popping back up without so much as a lick or a stroke, she smiles brightly. “Thanks for driving me in! I better get out before someone goes ballistic behind us.” Honking follows, so she opens the door. “I love you!”

A cold gust of wind forces me to tuck my hard-on back in to my sweats. “No problem. See you—”

She slams the door and runs into the building, leaving me and my raging blue balls alone. Another horn blasts behind me, so I take my foot off the brake and move along. I keep one hand on the wheel and the other holding my handle all the way home.

As soon as I’m inside, I rub one out, leaning against the side door. I manage to make it to the laundry room, where I come in the sink. The ache in my balls makes it less enjoyable than it should be. Also, Violet’s hands are much softer than mine, which is a huge factor in how good it feels.

After I’m done sorting out my issues, I call Darren to see if he wants to hit the gym early. We have a training session early this afternoon, but my right shoulder’s been acting up on and off for the past couple of months, and I want to do some additional exercises to work out the kinks. Also, I need a release for all the energy I’d hoped to burn today with Violet.

Darren’s all for it, probably because we’re in the same boat today: women at work and us at home. I change into my gym gear, pack my duffle with extra clothes, and pick him up. He tosses his bag in the back and slides in next to me.

“How’s it goin’?”

He adjusts his sunglasses and gives me one of his private smiles. “I had a good night, and an even better morning. You?”

Darren isn’t a details guy. But then, he doesn’t need to be. His relaxed posture and tone say it all.

“Last night was great.” It comes out with an edge.

“Your morning didn’t go well? You bring up the wedding with Violet again or something?”

Darren is one of the few people I talk openly to about the wedding stuff, or the lack of wedding stuff.

“I haven’t mentioned it in weeks.”

After the fiasco that was our engagement party, I left the topic alone for a while. Our moms went overboard with the guest list and invited two hundred people to celebrate in my backyard. Violet doesn’t like to be the center of attention in a crowd like that. She ended up with a raging case of hives, which took setting a date off the table.

By the holidays, I figured she would’ve gotten over it, but every time our mothers started in on setting a date, Violet broke out. We’ve gone through a lot of Benadryl in the past several months.

Now, I get that Violet has had some embarrassing things happen to her over the years. Something about a serious wardrobe malfunction at her mother’s wedding is all I know. But I understand her concerns.

Violet says it like it is most of the time, and whatever pops into her head usually comes right out of her mouth. It’s cute and funny when it’s just us, or our friends, but in highly public situations, it can be mortifying for her—and sometimes other people. I’ve told her several times that we can keep our wedding small, but she’s still reluctant to set a date.

“Not making progress there, huh?” Darren asks.

“Nope.” I tap the steering wheel in agitation.

“I’m sorry, man. I know you want this to happen.” His phone buzzes in his pocket. “You mind if I take this?”

I wave him off. “No. Go ahead.”

“Hey, sexy. What’s up?”

It’s Charlene. Darren’s been seeing her for a long while, now. He’s always been a low-profile guy, but since they started dating, he’s gotten a lot more media attention. He doesn’t really like it, but he seems to like Charlene, so he deals.