The thud of his brief case on the kitchen counter is the cue I’ve been waiting for.
I look up to see his hair messy, his jaw set to clench, his brow marred with deep lines. Everything points to bad day at work. Good. This is always more fun if he’s in a feisty mood to start.
Behind the kitchen island I stand, watching him from several feet away as he loosens the tie around his neck.
“Rough day, sweetie?”
“Long day.” He frowns at his watch while rolling up the sleeves of his rumpled white dress shirt.
Rough day indeed. He never does that delicious sleeve roll-up move unless it’s been an extra stressful day at the office.
I cross my legs while standing, hoping the soft pressure keeps the ache inside me at bay. Every time he exposes his perfect forearms, I’m struck with the uncontrollable urge to play. To pounce. To run my mouth all over his arms, his chest, his back, pretty much any inch of skin I can get my hands on.
Every time I’m around him, I’m like a starved wild animal. Enough is never an option. Three years of dating, one year of living together, four months married. Time makes no difference. I want him always.
My eyes fixate on the thick ropes of muscle strapping both arms. Veins bulge from each one. A dusting of coarse dark hair completes the visual, the perfect contrast to his light skin.
“Can I help you?” He smirks at me with a lifted eyebrow. I’ve been caught. Uh-oh.
I clear my throat. “Actually, I’d like to help you.”
I knock both straps of my sundress off my shoulders. The flowy cotton falls to my feet, landing in a perfect pool. I step out of it.
One look at my nearly naked self, and all signs of stress melt from his face. What’s left is a cloudy look in his hazel eyes and a bulging jaw. He’s biting down hard. Good. I want him warmed up for me.
“Help me how?” His voice is strained.
My eyes fall to the bulge at the front of his slate gray dress pants. I grin. I haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already rearing to go.
“By christening our new kitchen island with some newlywed shenanigans.” I smack the glossy marble with the palm of my hand. The slap echoes against every surface.
When I round the corner, he gets an unobscured view of my lower half, clad in a lacy red thong. We’re just feet away from each other now.
He dips his head for a better look. Hungry eyes skim both hips, then the space between.
“I thought you’d like to see my new panties.”
When his stare darkens, I know I’ve set him off, said the exact right thing to make him hit that beautiful mix of lust and frustration. I’m pushing his buttons, and he won’t stand for it. He never does.
He’ll make me pay. I cannot wait.
One step and he’s closer. “Your new panties?”
The way his mouth twitches, I know he’s aching to smile, but that would break the spell. I want him stern and hard.
“You forget already, babe.” He gestures to the space around us. “House? Ours. Car? Ours. Money? Ours. But that?”
He points at the flimsy fabric skimming my hips. I have to bite back a smirk. Working him up is my favorite hobby.
“It’s mine. Now get over here.”
When I press up to him, he grips me around the waist with firm hands. Lowering his face to mine, he barely brushes his lips against my mouth. Then his tongue slides across my bottom lip, but I can’t even kiss or lick him back because he jerks his head away immediately.
“I’ll kiss you. But the way I want.”
A beat later, he’s on his knees, his head is between my legs, and my back digs into the counter.
Teasing licks are the first sensation I feel. The lace fabric can’t dull the feel, the intensity. He’s a goddamn force of nature with his mouth.
I can’t do much other than hold on to his shoulders with both hands, my head falling back in short pants.
“Easy,” he moans from between my legs.
I feel his finger hook over the crotch of my panties, and then soft, wet, heat. My knees buckle, but he’s got me.
“Breathe, babe. I’ve only just started.”
Through the licks, the perfect circles, the heavenly vibrations created by his soft groans, I do exactly that. I breathe, eyes closed, then open when a jolt of pleasure pulses through me. The windup is long and excruciating. Each swirl is heaven, each hum is bliss.
The intensity builds until the explosion hits. One hand tangles in his golden brown mess of hair; the other fists his shoulder. Despite my legs turning to jelly, he props me up.
He’s back on his feet looming over me before I can blink away all the white spots clouding my vision.
Bending down, he yanks the panties off me and holds them between us. “Whose are these?”
Pleasure-drunk chuckles fall from me as he hoists me onto the counter. With his massive hand on my stomach, he presses my back flat against the cold marble, then straddles me. Off his shirt goes, revealing a highway of hard lines.
I reach up to touch him, but he catches my wrist in his before I can make contact.
I bite my lip. “Yours.”