You shouldn’t be this composed.

Not when your wife is on her knees under your desk with her mouth full of you — slow, messy, and intentional, like she’s got something to prove. Which, to be fair, she did.

You’d come home tense. Overworked. Frustrated. One too many passive-aggressive emails, one too many pointless meetings — and she’d told you, clear as day, “Sit down. I’ll take care of it.”

Now she’s doing exactly that, and you’re doing your damndest to keep it together, especially when the office door opens without warning.

“Ava?” her best friend calls, stepping in like it’s her house too. “You seen her?”

You blink once, twice. Your wife’s tongue just did something that almost made you see stars, and now her best friend is standing six feet away, completely oblivious.

You clear your throat. “Nah, haven’t seen her.”

Liar. You can feel her lips wrap tighter around you like she’s daring you to crack.

The best friend sighs. “She said she’d help me with that thing in the garage like fifteen minutes ago, and now she’s just… gone.”

“Maybe she ran out for something. Charger or water or—” you cut yourself off with a sudden breath when Ava does that thing with her tongue again, smug and slow.

You clench your jaw. “She’ll probably be back in a few.”

“Okay…” Her best friend lingers for a second. “If you see her, tell her to text me.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

She turns and walks out, door clicking shut behind her.

You let your head fall back against the chair, eyes closed. Ava pulls off slowly, licking her lips with a wicked little smirk.

“She talks a lot,” she murmured. “Thought she’d never leave.”

You glance down at her, dazed. “You’re insane.”

She grins, crawling up into your lap like she owns you — because right now, she absolutely does. “You said you were stressed,” she whispers into your ear. “And I always take care of what’s mine.”

God help you. You’re never going to survive this woman.