by Gabi Moore
When they were gone I raced upstairs and found Charlie and Dean on the top deck laughing, each with a matching beer in hand, both gazing out over the neighborhood tree line. They turned in unison to look at me as I walked into the atrium. I stood there in the doorway for a moment, heart racing, feeling myself on a precipice. I lowered my gaze and looked at Dean like I wanted to devour him. Something came rushing back to me like a tide that’s been pulled out for a long time but is now all at once rushing back to shore. It was like I had found a bubble of air in this suffocating new reality I was trapped in, and could almost feel my chest heaving to suck it all in.
“Charlie, I think you’d better go home now,” I said low under my breath, my eyes still fixed on Dean.
Charlie set his beer aside and gave me a strange look.
“Um… ok?”
“Now. Dean, I want you. Now,” I said.
Charlie was laughing.
“Dude…”
“Nora, are you ok? Is everything ok?”
“It will be, once Charlie goes and I can get you out of those stupid clothes,” I said and paced into the room, now directing my gaze straight to his crotch. Dean looked down in confusion at his clothing while Charlie awkwardly got up, unsure of how seriously to take me. He looked to Dean who waved him away and gestured for him to leave, then held his hands up in the air and scuttled off, with one last look at us both before walking out muttering.
“Nora…”
“Shhh…”
I grabbed his knees, spread them wide and then plonked myself down into his lap, my torso facing his, and resting my arms on his shoulders so I could stare straight into his eyes.
“No more talking. Just doing,” I purred and teasingly grazed my lips against his without actually kissing, so I could watch him react to the obvious pressure of my pussy against him. I caressed him with my eyes, tilting my head this way and then that way, inviting him to do something, daring him to grab me.
I hopped off his lap and could see his half stunned, half appreciative face as he watched my hands travel all up and down my body, as I decided how exactly to take my clothes off.
“Where’s Matilda? Are the moms—”
“I only want to hear you speak again if it’s to say how much you want to fuck me,” I blurted. He raised an amused eyebrow at me and his eyes lit up.
Fuck I loved him.
Here it was.
Here was the thing, here was it. That sweet, achingly delicious electricity, like some gooey force field between us. That old thrill, familiar and yet always new somehow. God how I’d missed it.
I hooked my thumbs into my leggings and arched my back before sliding them over my ass, giving him a full view of my bare cheeks. I waggled the fabric slowly down, relishing how much he was relishing me. When they lay crumpled on the floor, I got to work whipping my shirt off, then hoisted my bra up over my breasts without removing it. I missed my husband. I missed myself. And I missed being able to let go like this, and get lost in my body.
I hopped back into his lap and he held me gently, reaching up to kiss me. But I returned kisses that were hungry, more urgent. Life was short and hard and boring, why the hell weren’t we fucking all the time? Why didn’t we appreciate each other more? Why did I have the stupid moms over here when what I really wanted was to love my beautiful husband, all the time? I pressed my tongue deep into his mouth and he kissed me back, his hands resting lightly on my hips, just as they had during those early days before we really knew what the hell we were doing.
“Nora, what’s gotten into you,” he breathed, but I kissed away his protests and let my fingers find that old pathway to that most exciting part of him, the part I loved loving the most.
I unbuttoned, unzipped and yanked his trousers open to free his cock, then pressed the silky strip of fabric between my legs against him, stroking up and down to tease us both. Still in awe, he kissed me back. I could have whispered sweet nothings into his neck and breathed how much I loved him. I could have rubbed my desperate little clit against him till I was dripping, sure I couldn’t wait any more. I could have gotten down to my knees to lick him right to where I wanted him. But I didn’t. It was more serious than that.
I needed him.
Not his words.
Not his manners.
His body. All of it.
I slipped my panties to the side, grabbed hold of his still hardening cock and had soon pressed the hot head against and then into me, and before we both realized what was happening, I slid down, and further down, until he was all inside, too deep, too quickly, but I didn’t care. In fact, I welcomed the slight sting of pain, his little gasp of surprise, that little twitch he made inside me. When I could sink no lower I exhaled and breathed him in, feeling him right inside.
Yes. God yes. This was where we were supposed to be. Everything else was bullshit, was a waste of time. This was real, and raw, and worth something. His naked body, crammed tight into my naked body, and our eyes, even more naked than that, entangled into one another’s.
Our bodies knew what to do from there. I let go, and let it take me. Let him take me. His hips rocked, my hips rose and fell to meet them, to accept and release him, again and again, and it was like old times again, and everything else was gone for a moment, except him and I, and that silky stroking, that slick fire inside that we encouraged with each curl of our hips. I bounced in his lap, fingertips in his hair, and felt that familiar quivering spot way inside, that quivering place in me that he’d break open, letting everything knotted inside it burst free.
My husband’s cock, all mine, as far in as it would go. It was the closest thing I knew to a miracle. Picture Verdi’s Messa da Requiem, the Dies Irae, tuba mirum chorus at full blast, playing in my brain, so loud it rattled my foundations, with a full choir of giant archangels, trumpets, an orchestra of brass instruments surrounded by fireworks and pyrotechnics worthy of the day of reckoning itself. Picture a popcorn kernel splitting down its yellow body, threatening to explode into a big plume of white.
I dug my fingernails into his shoulder and paused, finding my breath.
“I love you, Dean,” I said quietly.
“I love you, Nora.”An old greeting. The same words, different every time.
“What would you do for me, darling?” I said, threatening to start up with my hips again, to catch the tail of that wonderful bliss and push us both over the edge.
“Anything. Absolutely anything.”
I bit down as I felt my body twitch against his hard cock, buried completely inside me.
“Anything?” I whispered.
“Anything.”
I clenched down hard and took a deep, greedy breath of air.
“Your father has escaped from prison. I want you to kill him for me,” I said quickly, and as I did, my hips rolled hard against him.
His eyes shot open wide and he tried to say something, but I had already pushed him too far, and his entire expression collapsed into one of hopeless surrender, his eyes searching mine as I felt him uncontrollably spurt inside me again and again. His body bucked and jerked under me and his hands clutched desperately at my hips. He whimpered and writhed but I could no longer hear him over the archangels and trumpets and drums. It was the hottest thing we’d done in months. I came so hard I nearly passed out.
Chapter 4 - Dean
“I’ve managed to organize a very nice villa for you and Matilda, we’ll lay low for a few weeks, and the office can tick over on its own for a while.”
First A, then B, then C. Easy. Whenever I was stressed, I listed things out.
Nora and I had come a long way, and by now the list was extensive, but the whole situation looked simpler if I just tried to focus on the task at hand: getting us all out of the country before my madman of a father could find us, if that’s what he intended to do.
I had already obtained restraining orders and established a fleet of bodyguards and security men around our house. But it wasn’t enough. There was a remote villa in
Isla del Sol, Bolivia, and in less than 48 hours of hearing that the asshole had escaped, we were on our way to the airfield, ready to leave in the still morning quiet before even the press had time to figure it out and interfere.
At work they had told me how having a child changes your mindset. I had laughed it off. I wasn’t afraid of responsibilities. I was the president of a biopharma manufacturing company that had plants in thirteen countries, was on the board of several advocacy groups, federal hospital development committees in the city and research teams that hired literally thousands of the country’s most talented physicists, chemists and engineers. And yet making sure that Matilda and Nora were OK felt infinitely more important than any of that. It felt good to step up and defend them, and know that I had the resources to quickly whisk them away from danger if needed. I wished, in a way, that my father could have seen how much I had changed over the months. How much wiser I was now, how much more solid I felt in life and what I wanted to do with it. How I had finally learnt to tackle my demons head-on. Pity that my father himself was one of those demons.
Matilda was still sleeping soundly when we slipped out of the house early the following morning. It was well before sunrise and Nora had bundled her in a wrap and pressed her to her chest where she slept. The nanny tagged behind us and helped the security guards pile a few bags into the car. We’d have everything we needed when we arrived there; for now, we just needed to leave. Charlie was doubtful that my father would make much headway, and he was sure we could rely on the state police officers who’d been sent to monitor our house. But that was nowhere near enough. I’d rather learn that they caught him from the comfort of a villa in the Bolivian foothills, thousands of miles away. Besides, Lord knows Nora could use the break.
We all bundled into the car silently, the chill of the morning air adding a strange excitement, and set off onto the roads, which were all still eerily quiet. I glanced over at Nora in the seat beside me, little Matilda purring and hiccupping quietly in her arms. Christ, she was a beautiful woman. She caught my eye and I caught hers. We hadn’t spoken about what happened. About what she had said. About those desperate, dirty little things her body did against mine when she spoke those words that seemed half like a dream to me now.
Kill him?
It was just pillow talk. God knows I’ve said more questionable things to her myself.
Nora was a complex human being. It’s why I loved her. What happened yesterday was just a game, anyway. Just a bit of kinky make-believe. Nora needed love like a plant needs the sun. But the key to the most interesting parts of her wasn’t love. It was …something darker than that. It scared me a little.
I reached over to stroke her jawline with my fingertips. She smiled at me warmly. In any case, it was good to have broken our dry spell. And man, did we break the shit out of it. If we weren’t busy keeping quiet so as not to wake the baby, I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to resist offering her more of what she so clearly couldn’t get enough of yesterday.
The driver, the nanny, Nora, Matilda and I all drove on in silence, me with my juicy, private thoughts of how fucking yummy it was when she came and it made her legs shake, and her toes clench and her mouth go slack, as though my cock could temporarily break her brain and make her nothing but a shuddering, limp mess on my lap.
As soon as we were safe and sound in Bolivia, I’d make sure there were plenty of opportunities to finish what we’d started upstairs in the atrium yesterday. I stared out the window and watched as the familiar roadside scenes whipped past, dimly lit by the streetlamps.
Nora needed regular fucking. She was a goddess who needed steady, generous offerings of cock, and to be worshipped at her juicy altar, often and enthusiastically. As her husband, I couldn’t think of a greater honor. Maybe we should have moved away from this city sooner.
We arrived at the deserted airfield and were met by the pilot and copilot, some security officers and two customs officials, all standing in front of the old Bombardier jet, jackets flapping a little in the morning breeze. It took only a few minutes to offload our luggage, in which time I pulled the driver aside, handed him his envelope and shook his hand again. After I shook his hand and he left in the car, I briefly chatted with the officials about our documents and visas. Then we scaled the metal steps and boarded, a sense of relief washing over me as the door was sealed shut and Nora and the nanny got to work settling Matilda in the baby crib at the back of the cabin.
The interior was still as neat and luxurious as the day I’d bought this jet years ago, initially for conferences in Europe but I later retired it to be our weekend jet, for Nora and I to go out on short trips when my schedule allowed. We took off just as a pinkish sunrise peeked over the horizon, as though it had just woken up and was surprised to see us well on our escape route. The hull shuddered and bumped a little as the plane sped along the runway, but we were soon airborne and skimming off into the sky, weightless.
The nanny, a no-nonsense matron with a heart of gold and a permanent white plastic rosary on her neck, sat quietly with Matilda in the back of the cabin. Nora whispered softly to them both then came over to me, closing a partition behind her and sealing us into a little pod of our own. She sat beside me, crossed her legs and then looked over at me, a million naughty questions in her eyes.
“Here we go again,” she said at last, smiling, voice husky. I shifted my weight towards her, pressed my head to her chest, and inhaled deeply, enjoying the soft scent of her skin and how wonderful it felt to be this close to her.
We had just had a little sexual hiccup. It was all going to be OK. We were back to our old selves again and it was all fine. Her eyes were sparkling just like they always did, and my body was responding to her on some chemical, even some subatomic level, just as it always did. Just as soon as we got to the villa in a few hours.
“Nora, what are you doing?”
I looked down to her hand at her crotch. She looked at me, giddy, her fingers teasing that tucked away spot between her crossed legs. Her lips parted a little and she stared at my lips.
Dear reader, do you know what love is? Have you ever felt what I felt just then? I used to think that love was a flimsy women’s thing. Something floaty and abstract and sappy. But oh no, love is meaty. It has bones and blood and skin, and its breath is warm…
“Oh, you want more already? Naughty girl,” I said, pleased she was clearly enjoying herself. She gave me a playful nod and then reached over to grab my hand and put it to where hers had been.
“Nora, the baby… everyone’s right there, they’ll hear us,” I said, and cast glances all around the cabin. We were alone, technically, but that could change at any moment if somebody simply opened the screens that led to either the cockpit or the pod behind us.
“Then you’d better shut up before you blow our cover,” she cooed, and I couldn’t help but smile. She pressed my hand down hard onto the hot patch between her legs, still giving me that devilish smile.
“I can’t stop thinking about yesterday,” she whispered.
“No?”
“No.”
“I wasn’t too rough?”
“Oh, you were much too rough. I can still feel it,” she said, and I was instantly rock hard.
She gave me a woozy smile and spread her legs a little wider. I scrambled to find a little blanket and threw it over our laps, but she laughed at this little gesture of modesty. She grabbed my hand and tucked it inside her jeans. Her pussy was warm and welcoming underneath. My fingers easily found their way to that soaking little split she was now spreading wide for me. She smiled, her eyes quivered closed and she focused intently on the tiny motions happening hidden under the blanket. I felt like a teenager hiding his hot young girlfriend in his bedroom and praying to god his parents didn’t hear him from downstairs.
She tilted her hips up and ground her pussy against me, but soon she grew impatient and peeled my hand away, instead thrusting her own down her pants and doing it herself. I watched with amuseme
nt; she was usually much more bashful about pleasuring herself in front of me. We were on our way to a secret location in the tropics, me and my gorgeous wife, and she was so horny she couldn’t even wait till we arrived. I unzipped and let my erection spring out and poke the blanket up into a tent. I leaned in and kissed her neck, enjoying the sight of her as she played with herself. When she pulled her hand away again and reached over to grab me, her little fingers were outrageously wet, and they slid frictionless over my cock, causing my shoulders to slump backwards, limp against the headrest.
“You fucking little minx,” I breathed.
She seemed to like this, and began stroking idly, one hand on my dick and the other still teasing out urgent little circles inside her panties. I lay back and let her work us both like this, silent except for our breath and the low hum of the jet’s engines and the dull vibration of pressure in the cabin. I closed my eyes and let her touch me like only she knew how. It was warm and lazy. Even with all our clothes on, staring straight ahead, we were fucking, in a way.
She would give a little excited shiver, and it was as though the impulse travelled through her one arm to the other, delivering that shiver to me, and soon, the thought of her slowly mounting pleasure had me eagerly following.
“When we get to Bolivia, the first thing I need is your fat cock,” she whispered, to nobody in particular.
“Oh, you’ll get it. First and second thing.”
“This…” she said and stroked her fingers all up the length and then down again. “All of it.”
“I’m not going to go easy on you though.”
“God yes.”
“And once I start, I’m not going to stop…”
Twitch.
“I’m going to fuck that little cunt of yours so hard you won’t walk right for days…”
Twitch.
