Strange Ties

She bent over the ledge in front of the window.  When she heard the door, she leaned over even farther.  This had to work.  It was the last night of their vacation and he hadn't touched her; not once.   A hand slid over her hip and she smiled.  His other hand fisted her hair, bracing her for his cock.  He slid inside her, deep and hard.  She cried out over his silence.  He'd never fucked her like this... just FUCKED her.  It's what she wanted.  Needed.  Wild.  Unrestrained.  Until she heard the door again.  Until his voice whispered "honey" from the doorway.  A backward glance showed the tan legs and sandals of the boy she'd flirted with by the pool.  They froze.

A moment of panic took her before she heard her husband cross the floor.  She began to stammer the words, "I thought he was you," but he silenced her with a fingertip.  Then he saw her.  He truly saw her, the woman he married, wanted, and desired.  His hand slid through her hair as the other man's hand fell away, yet the two men looked at each other and the husband nodded.  She braced herself and moaned as he plunged back inside her.  Her husband pressed his lips to her, murmuring "beautiful" as a tear slid down her cheek.  His mouth molded to hers with fresh heat.  His tongue slipped between her lips and danced in a way it hadn't in what felt like forever.  Strange hands found her shoulders and pulled her deep as she came, but it was her husband's kiss.  His kiss was her satisfaction.

Quiet Now

One graceful finger perched on his nose, the other on her own lips.  She'd thought it was such an odd gift.  But when she'd told her husband, he'd said It only made sense. She'd be staying in her old room while she visited her folks.  It was only appropriate. But her thoughts weren't appropriate.  She hated being away from him, away from his touch.  His kiss.  Her fingertips traced the edge of her black bra and brushed over her stomach.  The moment they brushed the smooth flesh between her thighs, she moaned.

"Shhh."

She nearly threw the bear across the room.

"You have to be quiet, baby."

Her voice came out in a shaky whisper as she recognized the bear's voice.

"Mike?"

She heard her husband laugh.  Leave it to him to put his sneaky spy shit in a stuffed toy.

"Sound activated.  It let's me know when there's a peep to be heard.  I liked that peep."  His voice got that husky edge that turned her all molten inside.  "I want to hear more.  Tell me what you were doing."

"I was thinking of you."

She sat up just enough to take off her bra.  The soft fur brushed against the taut peaks of her nipples and she moaned again.  It all seemed so deliciously naughty.  She reached back between her legs and slid her fingers across slick flesh.  Her breath caught in her throat.

"More,"  he said.  His own breath grew deeper, ragged, and she pictured him palming his hard cock.  "You know I want more."

So did she.  She closed her eyes and listened to his disembodied breath.  Pictured his mouth tasting her, his tongue teasing her.  She pictured him entering her as her own fingers explored her depths.  He heard every whimper.  Every moan.  Every gasp.  In her childhood bedroom she told him all the dirty things she wanted him to do to her.

And then they came.

"I miss you," she said.

"I miss you, too," he said.  "Until tomorrow."

She heard the mic click and rolled contentedly to her side, clutching tight to the memory of his voice.

The Stairwell

This is the way he said he wanted her: natural, raw, and wild.  Wild bush.  Natural pits. The tattoo that snaked across her ribcage and writhed beneath his tongue.  This is the last place he fucked her while his wife slept upstairs.  He didn't care then.  Why should she now?  She wouldn't put her wild away.

She ground her palms into her swollen eyes while the stone steps dug into her ass and her back.  He would see her and stop.  He would see the words "fuck me" on the wall and he would obey.  It was his turn to obey.

The door opened.  She knew his gait as well as his schedule; knew it was him that climbed the stairs.  She said nothing as he approached.  Nothing when she knew he saw her.  Nothing when the heel of his shoe scuffed her hard nipple as he stepped up over her body.

She knew his gait.  It didn't slow until he unlocked his apartment, opened the door, stepped through it to his his safe world and locked it behind him.

She said nothing today.

There is always tomorrow.