She clung. ”Justin.”
He growled, pulling her closer until she could grip the top edges of the lounge chair as he lapped at her sex like a badger let loose on the honey pot, or a beast devouring the sweetness of his prey. His tongue barreled through her folds before ramming inside in rhythmic, wet thrusts deep and deeper inside. “Justin,” she whispered, her body lost to sensations and moving against her own volition when he sucked on her clit, and his fingers slid in and out through the sticky honey streaming down her thighs. Then she stiffened, letting out a cry that was half in protest and surprise when he surprised her with his fingers pounding both her sex and in between her buttocks. As her body snapped from the rising tension, Justin, unbelievably, cruelly, suddenly set her away from him.
“Justin!” She protested.
He grinned at her tightly. “Wait and see.”
Valerie wanted to punch him because he was goddamned cruel, but all thoughts of revenge fled when she realized that his pushing her away was so that she could sit take his cock inside. Very well -
Despite being juicily wet, she and Justin had to work with gritted teeth to get her to sink lower and lower down his member until it was fully inside. Valerie felt full and stuffed to the core. He felt good, so good, but she knew that the moment she moved, he was going to feel infinitely better.
Oh god, he did.
Justin gripped her hard on the waist, keeping her still as he thrust upwards. She was moaning incoherent words, begging him to take her as he shoved her sweater to her neck and sucked hard on her nipples to the point of pain. The greedy pulls of his mouth and his cock ramming into her with one heavenly thrust after the next was unlike anything she knew. She didn’t know how long she let him take charge, but she remembered she was on top and should be calling the shots.
Valerie fought back, shoving Justin hard down the lounge chair and pinning his wrists with her hands. He smirked at her, surprised but looking way too pleased. Her eyes flashed, the brightest, most vivid blue as she moved at a pace so frantic soon she was panting - they both were. It was like riding a stallion like a bat out of hell and also sailing on the calmest sea. It was desperation and prolonged longing.
“God,” Justin gasped, eyes squeezed shut. His forehead gleamed with sweat and slid down the sides of his face. “God, Valerie - wife - god - “ He struggled against her grip, but she was bigger. Stronger. She pumped her hips harder.
“Not yet,” she grunted, shoving against him as if to render him into powder.
She shrieked when Justin raised his head enough to drag her nipple between his teeth and suck. She tried shaking him off, but did she really want to stop him? Dear God, no. No. Never, never, never. And his lips tightened around her nipple before his mouth opened as if to take the entire small mound of her breast in. His teeth scraped the sensitive skin. A cry was ripped from her, and she started thrusting harder against him, pummeling him with her body. Then he released her breast and looked at her, desperate and panting.
“Finish it,” Justin commanded, his voice guttural. ”Finish us off.”
He wrenched one of his arms free from her hold and sought her clit. Valerie let out a strangled sob - she was so full - of Justin’s cock, of Justin, of a tornado of emotions, of everything. He showed her no mercy, thrusting violently up against her, nearly toppling her off if not for the determined grip of her hands on the chair and on his wrist. His fingers stroked her clit hard. Her pace increased, drawing sharp cries from both of them.
“Justin,” she wept, overwhelmed. “Justin - “
He snarled. ”Now.”
Valerie screamed and detonated into a thousand pieces toward the night sky.
Seven
Justin was having a dream so hot he could hear himself sweating.
They were having some sort of a sparring match. He fell toward Valerie, straddling her heaving form. He smirked at her blue glare and pressed his hand on her throat. “Yield.”
She stared back at him wordlessly, defiantly.
He narrowed his eyes and pressed the hand further.
She grunted, frowning. “I yield.”
He smiled in relief. “At last.”
He took his hand away. She grinned back, her smile still the sweetest thing. Then she yanked him toward her.
The combination of sweat and dirt from her lips was intoxicating. Their clothes made any closer contact impossible and attempts to change painful. He grabbed one of her legs, curled it around his hip and rolled, putting her on top of him. She was heavier; most likely, she would crush his ribs, but damn it, she felt perfect like this. He pushed his fingers through the wild tangle of her auburn hair and sucked her full lower lip.
“Justin,” she whispered, her voice rough and strangled. Even in dreams, it made him hard. He kissed her harder. “Justin, get up.”
“Of course,” he agreed but continued kissing her, wrapping a leg around her waist. His cock ached under his pants. The thought of Valerie with loose pants too excited him. Easier to slide off, he thought, rolling again, so she was under him. Her grunt warmed his tongue.
“Justin. Um, you’re crushing me.”
Justin opened his eyes and groaned at the sun, burning right into his eyes. He was back in Shady Grove, practically lying down on his wife, who was trying to wriggle her way out from under him. He apologized, shifting a little, so he was stretched out beside her. He drew her to him, a hard arm wrapping around her back and the other sliding down to her waist. She tilted her head toward him, waiting for his kiss.
Her breath was dry, and her lips cracked at the corners, but he was hard with want. He smelled the sun, grass, the faint vanilla scent of Valerie, their mingled sweat, and the vanishing musk of their sex. He pulled her leg around his hip, opening her to his cock, thrusting against his pants, eager to sink inside her again. He wondered how to maneuver them to a more comfortable position - the lounge chair was too hard this morning, the sun climbing higher meant it was getting hotter. And the sound of birds was too loud, and the swooshing sounds from the sprinklers at work and the whine of the lawnmower certainly did not contribute to the mood. He could hear Valerie moaning, “I yield,” repeatedly as he thrust into her. Their backyard would have to suffice as a forest-
Justin froze at the same moment that Valerie stiffened.
He looked at her - sexily mussed, sleepy, kiss-swollen, wearing her sweater. Wearing only her sweater.
As his shock at the realization that his wife was half-naked and out in Shady Grove for all to see hit him, her eyes widened. Horror was on her face, and, thinking of the only possible solution in these circumstances, he threw himself on top of her.
“You’re naked!” he exclaimed at the same time she gasped, “The children!”
Then they stared at each other, the gravity of their situation sinking in.
“The children!” Justin cried out as Valerie shrieked, ”I’m naked!”
Justin started unbuttoning his shirt. Hysterical, Valerie demanded, “What the hell are you doing!”
“Covering you, you idiot!” He snapped, practically ripping his shirt off and nearly hitting her on the face with it. As they wrestled - she trying to wrap it around her waist and him trying to spare her the indignity of walking butt-naked around the manor and getting caught, somebody cleared his throat behind them.
Valerie, wild-eyed, held her breath. Justin’s expression mirrored hers. He moved over her to cover her some more, but she was taller, wider. Then he felt something move behind him and her face, having gone white and rendered without freckles, paled even more.
“I believe you misplaced this, Valerie,” Donald Aston said, holding the skirt over them. Justin saw that he was looking away, facing the other side.
Mortified, Valerie could neither move nor say anything. Justin awkwardly reached for it and muttered his thanks. He continued to hover protectively over his wife as she slid inside her skirt. She looked near tears. Justin felt sorry for her and wanted to hug her.
“I checked o
n the children last night,” Donald spoke as if to continue a conversation they were having. His back still faced them. “They’re fine. Lester and a housekeeper are getting them ready as we speak. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.”
Then he headed for the gardens.
As Donald disappeared behind the hedges, Justin turned to Valerie. “Wife?” He asked, peering at her anxiously. “Honey, talk to me?”
Valerie, looking like she'd seen a ghost, whimpered, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“No, you’re not.” Justin sat up and pulled her to sit up with him. She was breathing fast and shallowly. “Put your head between your legs,” he told her, rubbing her back and urging her toward the position. She nodded and did as he told.
When her breathing steadied, she slowly straightened up. She was still pale, but some of her ruddiness was returning. At least she didn’t look like she was going to burst into tears now though embarrassment had taken over. Justin will take it. He put an arm around her waist, looked at her for confirmation. She nodded, and together, they stood up.
Breakfast was as silent as the crypt.
Donald sipped his coffee, looking at Justin, who was taking a very deep interest in his eggs and toast. Valerie had refused to leave the bedroom, and he understood. He hadn’t wanted to leave either, but as embarrassing as the situation was, he was not going to apologize for losing his head and having sex with his wife to exhaustion on a lounge chair. No one would look at him weird in the old days, he thought. Married people could have sex right in the town square, and no one would care. Well, maybe. But he was a happily married man, very much in love with his wife and blessed with an insatiable need to keep her full with his cock and a lucky bastard because she wanted the same thing. So passing out on a lounge chair and getting caught by your father was not anyone’s choice, but Justin Aston did not believe in regrets.
Justin glanced at the empty chairs beside him. The children were in the kitchen, being fed by Lester. Which meant that Donald was itching for a talk. About what, he didn’t know. Well, he had an inkling, but if God was merciful, he hoped Donald would just ignore what happened and let it slide. It was a big deal but not that big of a deal, wasn’t it? Getting caught having sex with your wife was a hell of a lot better than getting caught having sex with someone who wasn’t your wife. Justin shuddered at the idea. He’d be the biggest idiot this side of the county if he even thought of cheating on Valerie. Super-intelligent, funny, blue-eyed, sexy, blushing Valerie for some bland bimbo? Valerie, who always thought of him as the best man there is? No way.
“Is Valerie not joining us?” Donald asked, setting his coffee cup down.
“A headache. She thought it better to rest this morning, so she’ll be ready for the festivities in the afternoon.” Justin told him. Also, because my wife hates having me around when she wants to wallow. Justin could respect that though it killed him to be not there for her.
“Good.” Donald looked at him. “That gives us a chance to talk.”
Justin met his stare. “I am not sorry for what happened.”
“Oh?”
“Okay. I’m sorry for what you saw but not for, uh, demonstrating how I feel about my wife.” Justin swallowed, patted his lips dry with a cloth napkin, and put it beside his plate. He dared with one look for Donald to challenge him. Inwardly, he was shaking. It was plain luck this morning he didn’t have his hands under her shirt or his fingers in her sex, as they often were when waking up. Sometimes, he woke her up with playful nips at her throat or the barest laps of his tongue on her clit. She would gasp, startled, then beg for him to take her soon after. Having sex with a half-dreaming Valerie was sweet. She was a lot more responsive and filled his ears with breathy, hot suggestions of what he could do to her. Like when she begged him to take her in the-
“I’m not questioning your, ah, said demonstration.” Donald declared, snapping Justin out his reverie. “Perhaps we best continue this in my study.”
“It’s a good day. The sun is out. Why can’t we stay here?” Justin pointed out.
“What I have to say is for your ears only.”
Oh god, Justin thought as Donald stood up. He had no choice but to follow. Donald would ban them from Shady Grove for a while, which wasn't that bad but would humiliate Valerie. Or he would admonish Justin about having to keep it in his pants.
When they were children, the only time they were in Donald’s study was when they got in trouble. That happened a lot. If it wasn’t Asher being picked on or Samantha breaking some moron’s heart, it was Justin and his low grades. Donald had been resistant to Justin’s dyslexia and thought it was laziness at the core of his loathing for reading. He spent hours teaching and berating his son to read correctly, and Justin still remembered every session. He had just turned forty-six, owned a successful company, married with four lively children. Yet every time he entered Donald’s study, Justin felt like a kid terrified of his father’s disappointment. This was what Donald would be serving him; of that he was sure.
So Justin resigned himself to his fate and sat down. Donald sat behind his desk. It was the ugliest desk Justin had ever seen. Reddish-brown, good wood quality but carved beasts on the side, and the legs were in the shape of paws, complete with claws.
If Valerie were here, her presence would be a comfort. Or she’d protect me from my own father. The last thought put a small smile on his face. Justin didn’t need any protecting, but he knew this was exactly what his wife would do.
“I was young once, you know,” Donald said in a way as if issuing a command.
“I’m sorry?”
“Like you.” He inclined his head at Justin, along with a quick, hand gesture. “Young. And in love.”
Oh. He’s going to talk about Mother. Right. I can do this. A weird start. Still.
“Your mother was a passionate woman. As passionate as your Valerie,” Donald continued. “I couldn’t get enough of her.”
Justin, squirming in his seat, asked, “Uh, Father? Why are you telling me this?”
But Donald was on the nostalgia lane. “Amy was a strong, adventurous, daring spirit. We argued a lot about it. She was convinced it happened at the barn.” He chuckled. “I told her it was in the library. I was sure of it. I still am. Of course, she’s no longer around to rebut me.”
“What are you talking about, Father?” Justin demanded, confused.
“Why, where your mother and I conceived you.”
“Dear God,” Justin gasped. “Are you going to discuss with me about having sex with my mother?”
Donald gave him a warning look. “She was my wife.”
Justin started to stand up, but Donald glared at him. “Sit. Stay. And listen. I have no doubt you know what to do with your wife, Justin, but I expected you to be... well, to at least have some finesse about it. And manners, young man. You are going to sit here and learn that the way to a woman’s heart is not always by mauling her to the ground.”
The devil take me now. Still, he made another try for it.
“Are we going to have “the talk,” is that it?” He shot back drily. He pretended to pout. “I'm afraid you're at least three decades late, Father.”
The frosty look Donald gave him said that if he didn't shut up, Justin wasn't going to have another three decades of anything. Flushing, clearing his throat, he tried to make himself comfortable, although a bench with knives would suit him better. The things I do for love, he thought as Donald launched in a description of women's bodies.
And because fate was cruel, Donald whipped out his tablet and showed colorful illustrations and charts for the longest, most embarrassing lecture of Justin's life.
Eight
Work was the antidote to a lot of things, Valerie had discovered when she was in college. After that awful break-up with her ex-boyfriend Graham, she drowned herself in research papers and books. It was also effective in helping her forget that night with Roscoe.
Work always set things right, and she dived into the
pile of student papers, slowly gone stiff and dented in her briefcase under the bed. Focusing on the students’ words and their ankle-deep thoughts distracted her from the mortification of getting caught with her ass hanging out by Donald Aston, of all people. When she and Justin embarked on this ridiculous quest to have sex in every part of Shady Grove, they had anticipated getting caught but not by Donald. They only joked about it - who knew it would come true? She wondered if she could fake sick in order to skip Friday night dinner next week, and possibly arrange to get into an accident the following Friday. Valerie despised pity, but it might make Donald forget what a slut his daughter-in-law was.
Slut. That word shouldn’t make her feel... well, she was quite proud. Valerie Aston, Justin’s slut. Offensive on so many levels. Women’s groups would chase her with torches made out of bras, but she was slightly giddy at the idea of being that. Justin’s Slut.
Dear God, she was a mother now. She shouldn’t be acting like this! Or feeling like this!
Frowning, she gripped her pen and bore hard on the student paper to write a C.
She read a few more papers after that, feeling calmer and settled. She was almost through with the pile when Justin entered the room. He looked a little queasy and green. Fearing the worst, she sat up and said, “Donald wants us to leave.”
“Believe you me, that’s a lot better than what he did to me,” Justin told her, sitting heavily on the foot of the bed. He buried his face in his palms.
Valerie set the papers aside and went to him. “Tell me what happened.”
“Oh god, don’t make me, please. But it’s worse than we thought.” He said, glancing at her. Seeing her worry deepen, he put an arm around her shoulders pulled her close. He kissed her on the lips as if to draw strength from it. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. Everything is alright, I promise.”
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