The Need Within Her

by Jason Lenov

  Emily, seemingly appeased by his attempt at normalcy, resumed her smile and leaned in. She pressed her cheek against his.

  Jack’s abdomen tightened as he braced himself for the inevitable slice of a blade between his ribs.

  “I was a bad girl.”

  His eyes began to sting with tears.

  “I bought a coffee maker.”

  The whoosh of relief the admission sent swooping through him was deafening. “You what?” he said through clenched teeth.

  Emily’s giggle melted his thundering heart.

  “I bought a coffee maker this morning. I was…I was going to keep it a secret but then I knew I had to tell you. I had to tell on myself. Are you mad? Don’t be mad. I made steak.”

  When the relief had passed through him a joyous, wonderful feeling welled up in it’s place. Another bullet dodged and another hope dashed, in a way. “You did what?” he said, holding her arms as a grin cracked on his face.

  Emily threw her head back and giggled like a schoolgirl and there they were, together, laughing, reunited with nothing between them. Nothing standing in the way of their love like he’d feared just a moment ago.

  Though Jack wasn’t a religious man he said a silent prayer as he wrapped his arms around Emily and drew her close in a hug. He held her too tightly for the occasion, not caring that she might ask why.

  Another reprieve. This meant he could stow dirty Jack away, back into the basement of his thoughts and desires, back where that old ugly troll could grin and cackle in the darkness but not have such a hold on him any more. At least for the time being. “You bought a coffee maker? You bought a coffee maker,” he said with a sigh.

  Glory of glories it was nothing more than a coffee maker.

  Emily’s bubbling laughter faded. Her cheeks were red.

  Jack’s manhood poked between them. He had a way, Jack did, of tilting his hips in such moments. So his wife wouldn’t feel the hard evidence of his predilection. But this time Jack was so overcome with relief that he missed the moment when she swayed forward. Unable to swivel in time, he felt the head of his cock press against her soft pelvis.

  Her smile faded, eyes widening as she glanced down between them.

  It was shameful. So shameful he turned red. But Jack could be confident in one thing. They were quiet lovers, him and Emily. She, a private person. Privates were not discussed in public even if it was just the two of them.

  So imagine Jack’s utter astonishment when Emily’s slender wrist dropped between them and she caressed the underside of his throbbing muscle with a single finger. “What’s this?” she whispered.

  To which Jack had no good answer. Because what do you say? Oh, just a thing I was thinking about in the car. Or, from seeing you look so beautiful, my love! No. At forty-one those would not be acceptable explanations for such a staunch erection. So he smiled and eased away from her and pretended to be smelling the smells in the kitchen.

  Which is when his nostrils flared. Somewhere high above the sauteing onions, far past the smell of red meat cooked to perfection, so high it was almost out of reach of his olfactory perception, Jack caught a whiff of a scent normally reserved for their most intimate moments.

  It was Emily. And, it seemed by the sniff of it, that she was in an equally aroused state. But of course Jack couldn’t say so. Couldn’t touch that with a ten foot pole. Not even in bed would he make a remark like that.

  Their lovemaking was as gentle and caring as it had ever been. But it stayed in the bedroom and any elocution he might be inclined to make, stayed in his head. Emily was not one for dirty talk. Never had been.

  “What is all this?” Jack asked, changing the subject and drawing her attention away from his member.

  Emily turned to eye the candles flickering on the table. She turned back and smiled at him. “Just my way of saying sorry,” she mused.

  “For what?”

  “I should have asked you about the coffee maker.”

  Which is when Jack realized she really did feel a bit bad about the whole thing and this was just her way of being silly about it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided. But not too harshly because, though Jack liked control he would never endure anyone thinking of himself as controlling.

  “I just thought we’d mix it up a little,” Emily said. Then her expression fell. “I think the kids being back this weekend made me realize how much I miss them.” She gazed up with loving eyes and kissed him on the lips. “I love you, Jack Robertson.”

  “I love you, Emily,” he replied. All was right with the world again.

  Taking his hand, his loving wife led him to the kitchen, pulled out a chair from beneath the table and slipped his jacket off his shoulders. Hanging it on the back of the chair, she walked over to the counter where, to Jack’s great surprise, a bottle of red wine stood uncorked and awaiting the evening.

  “Red wine?” Jack asked, baffled.

  Emily poured a glass, the trickle of liquid filling the silence in the room. She spun around slowly, walked to where he was sitting and set the glass down in front of him. Then she reached over to her place setting which is when Jack saw that she had already indulged in a glass herself and the tightness returned between his legs.

  This was not Monday. This was not Emily. This was…unnerving. “Seriously it’s just the coffee maker?” he asked.

  Emily held her glass up for a toast.

  Ever the gentleman, Jack took his, reached up and clinked them gently together.

  She sighed in what seemed like a forlorn way and took a small sip. Setting it back on the table, she sat down on Jack’s lap.

  This would have caused him to gasp were he not back in full control of his faculties. Not at the fact that she’d sat in his lap, she’d done that plenty of times. It was the way she did it that mattered.

  Hanging her arms around his neck, leaning in so his eyes were drawn to the delicious cleft of flesh her breasts made in the dress. Was she even wearing a bra?

  Jack resisted the temptation to stare at her nipples and check. This was no longer strange. It was crazy. Maddening, even. And over a coffee maker? No. No way. Something was up and he hadn’t caused it and that caused Jack great worry because, while he didn’t think of himself as controlling, he liked to keep Emily where he liked to keep her. Safe from the harms and temptations lurking in the real world.

  And it seemed by the way she was acting that Emily hadn’t just purchased a coffee maker. She’d had an experience. Out there. Without him. Unsanctioned and unapproved. Not that he was jealous. Jack wasn’t the jealous sort. As long as Emily stayed in the lines. Played by the rules, that sort of thing.

  But the way she sat in his lap… Like a…trollop. Looking for something. Something dirty.

  “It’s not just the coffee maker,” she said softly.

  But Jack knew that already. “What is it?” Something cranked inside him and heightened the tension between them.

  Emily gazed into his eyes and this time Jack knew it was far more than just the coffee maker. Far more serious. Unpleasant, even. “Something happened in the store today,” Emily said.

  Jack’s heart began to beat a little faster. Something happening wasn’t good. Emily didn’t talk in that tone about inconsequential happenings. But the store? That was good. That was safe. What could go wrong in a store? Jack donned his most concerned expression and touched her on the arm. “Tell me about it, sweetie. What is it?”

  She bit her lip and for a moment looked a bit like a school girl that was about to tell her daddy that she’d smoked her first cigarette and just had to tell on herself. “A man hit on me.”

  Crank.

  Up went the tension, thrumming and throbbing through Jack, whose cock had just started flagging but which, upon hearing that, lurched back to life in his lap. “What?”

  Sigh.

  “Just some blockhead who doesn’t know what year it is,” she explained, shaking her head and rolling her eyes like it was no big deal.

  Then why
was she telling him?

  And this grabbed Jack by the neck and nearly choked the life right out of him. It took him a moment to put his finger on what was out of place. That she was telling him at all? No. Was she upset? No.

  Nonchalance.

  There it was. Emily didn’t do nonchalance. Emily was plucky and perky and upbeat unless the moment called for pause or reflection, at which point she’d dutifully lower her eyes, let it pass over her, then spring back to life as Emily again. Emily wasn’t casual. Not about a single, goddamned thing.

  “What did he say?” Jack said, unable to help sounding breathless.

  Emily bit her lip again. She turned to look away, as if searching for the answer in the corner somewhere, underneath the fridge where they hadn’t cleaned in years, where the dirt lived. “He told me I had nice legs,” she whispered.

  Well that nearly snapped him in two, that did. That his sweet, bouncy Emily would be accosted by what was obviously some boorish knucklehead and told the bald-faced truth that she had nice legs, made him want to rise up out of his chair, roll up his shirt sleeves and…

  And what?

  Jack’s stomach sank from what he wanted in that moment.

  The real truth was that Emily didn’t just have nice legs. Emily had amazing legs. Outstanding legs, legs that when they wrapped around you and squeezed could make you pop one off faster than a cowboy drawing a six-shooter in the old wild west.

  Slender ankles, tight calves and just enough cushion on her thighs to let you know you were really sinking into something when you… Good God.

  He could barely think it. And at the dinner table!

  But he managed to wrestle down that bear of a feeling, the vision of some ass hole checking out Emily’s legs and thinking the same thing he was thinking right then, he managed to get a grip on it. It had owned him again but he punched it as hard as he could before he looked into her eyes. “You okay?”

  That was the way to play this. Cool. Collected. Sincere. Anything but outrageously, insanely, jealously excited.

  Emily nodded.

  But the way she stared at him drove him crazy. Made him think all kinds of things he shouldn’t be thinking and made her look like…like that goddamned vixen he believed was in there.

  He shuddered.

  Just then the slit of the red dress she was wearing fell from her lap, revealing a long, slender calf and slight thickening up toward her thigh and all the promise that held, and Jack couldn’t help but glance at it and couldn’t help the way his cock throbbed against her other one either.

  “You still think I have nice legs?” Emily asked.

  It wasn’t fair. It was a sucker punch, connecting with his jaw as he was still reeling from the last revelation. Jack’s hand fell, palm pressed against the warm flesh of Emily’s thigh and he caressed in a way that was strictly reserved for their dark bedroom. “Well he might have been a jerk but he was right,” he said, looking right up into her pretty blue eyes. “Your legs are amazing.”

  Throb.

  This time she felt it. The hard tissue pressing against her leg as his cock swelled even harder and there was no hiding it. So his face started getting ready, redness welling up along with heat to his cheeks and then he was squirming beneath her, trying to worm his way out from the seat and excuse himself to go to the bathroom and splash some cold water on his face and god knew what else.

  So imagine Jack’s confusion, Jack’s absolute and utter disbelief when Emily, with a strength unknown to him, pushed the kitchen table farther back behind her, stood up swung one leg over his lap and straddled him and started fiddling with his belt buckle.

  “What are you doing?” said Jack, who through all those years of working late and waking early had lost a bit of the gift for romance and smooth talk he’d once possessed. He was grateful she didn’t answer. There were candles lit, sure, but that would have only sucked up some of his embarrassment at asking that dumb question.

  You didn’t talk about a thing like what was happening between them. Whatever it was. You didn’t just take it out and slap it on the table and eye it, discussing it’s merits and drawbacks. This thing was electric. It refused to be named. It was to be fucked about, not stared at.

  So when his stiff prick popped out his fly, bouncing between them like a spring, and when Emily shuffled up closer and pulled her dress up, he didn’t open his mouth and say anything else stupid.

  He closed his eyes and groaned as her center lips dripped wetness over his cock, gliding back and forth to the sounds of Emily’s increasingly quick breaths. His manhood lurched up, pressing against the glorious sticky heat of her lubricated entrance as their eyes met.

  Why is this happening?

  But then Emily’s mouth fell open, one side of her lip curled in the tiniest lust-fuelled snarl. Digging her nails into his shirt she released the muscles in her legs.

  The air left Jack’s lungs as his his wife sheathed him inside herself and he came to know heaven again.

  Her rocking jolted him out of his trance. The way she swayed back and forth on his lap, rubbing the shaft of his prick against her engorged clit set an alarm ringing in his brain. His eyes popped wide open at the two tight points of shade, Emily’s nipples threatening to poke through the front of her dress.

  So she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Nor, as evidenced by his unfettered access to her marvellous insides, was she wearing underwear.

  It was far too much for his now sex-obsessed mind to parse all at once. The coffee maker. The stranger’s lewd remark. And now, Emily’s “apology.” Steak dinner, red wine, (on a Monday, don’t forget Monday) and a lap dance as an aperitif.

  And to top it all off, as Jack’s body climbed toward his peak, as it prepared to throw itself off of the cliff, he not only saw an orgasmic expression grip Emily’s face but felt the first contractions of her climax suck his muscle in deeper.

  His climax didn’t blossom or shoot through him like a rocket. It cracked like an egg. A Cadbury Easter egg with a hard chocolate shell that contained a milky and slightly yellowish emission. Jack groaned as he came.

  Emily trembled and whimpered.

  Rope after hot rope of his sticky deposit belched out the head of his cock and slathered Emily’s sweet pussy. He shook as he clung to her through the sensation. When it was over he kept his face pressed to her chest.

  Because he loved her and the little surprise she’d given him, yes.

  But mostly because he was too scared to look in her eyes and see what he might find there.

  Chapter Four

  What the hell was that?

  It was an obvious question that formed in his mind as the moment cooled between them. But now that it was over, now that Jack had entered his refractory period, his usual nature returned. And the usual Jack did not ask such questions.

  When Emily placed a finger beneath his chin and tilted his lips up to hers, he closed his eyes to avoid her gaze. Her warm tongue felt so pleasant teasing his, that his cock twitched at the sensation.

  But as she pulled away, the taste of wine and her sweetness still lingering in his mouth, Jack realized he couldn’t keep his eyes closed forever. Nearly shaking with fear, he opened them slowly and looked into hers.

  Emily drew in a slow breath, then let it out in one long exhale. She touched his cheek with her fingers. Then, after sharing an intimate stare, she let her forehead fall forward to touch his.

  It was this that cemented in Jack the certainty that something was different. That something had changed with his Emily and that it had something to do with the vulgar stranger she’d encountered in the store. But as terrifying as that was, it was equal parts intriguing. As much as he dreaded facing it, figuring out what had shifted and how their lives would be different for it, he found the opposite possibility absolutely untenable.

  So, really, it wasn’t Jack choosing to open his eyes and stare into hers again. It was Jack accepting the inevitable and bravely confronting his darkest fear.


  Jack leaned back.

  Emily pulled away.

  Their eyes met and they stared at each other, each watching the person they’d thought they’d known for twenty-some years through a fresh lens.

  “What’s happening?” Jack whispered.

  Emily smiled and sniffed and tilted her head to one side. “I…don’t know,” she replied before chewing the inside of her cheek.

  A warm fondness coursed through Jack as he gazed at his wife on his lap. So beautiful, so perfect, so loyal and strong. Everything he could ask for in a woman and more. How lucky they were to have met. He reached up and tucked a stray tress of her hair behind her ear.

  The tightness worked through him again. At the thought that just that day another man, a stranger had told her she had nice legs. That that other man saw her and wanted her the way he did was dizzying.

  And suddenly Jack knew it hadn’t just been that. Emily wouldn’t have made steak and poured wine and mounted him about just that. There was more and she was keeping it from him.

  Did she want him to know? Did she want him to ask? Did she know what this was doing to him?

  If he asked and she didn’t answer would it drive him insane?

  Jack thought back on his life so far. He’d done his level best in the face of adversity, lived with courage, he thought, and an open heart. He hoped he’d lived well. And here was an opportunity presenting itself. A chance to unlock and examine the devilish thing that haunted his dreams. Presented, of all people, by his wife. And while he may have been a lot of things, a coward wasn’t one of them. Jack took a deep breath and prepared to seize the day. “It wasn’t just ‘nice legs’ was it?” he whispered.

  Emily’s head tilted toward him again. Her eyes so round and blue it squeezed his heart like a fist. The innocent way she eyed him, all the things they’d shared together, what they’d been through it all coiled around him and made him want her for the first time all over again. She shook her head. “It wasn’t just ‘nice legs’,” she admitted.