by Allie Ritch
I squared off with him, hands on hips. “I’m not giving you a nooner. Besides, I seem to remember you owing me a rain check for the massage I gave you in the shower the other morning.”
“Clever girl.” I could see he was pleased with me. “That means the massages cancel each other out, but you still owe me another pleasurable activity.”
“No.”
“Then I owe you one. Now do you want to come here, or do you want to find out what happens if I have to come get you?”
As usual, irritation clashed with arousal when my husband spoke to me like this. I couldn’t be sure which emotion caused my temperature to soar, though there was no denying that the shiver down my spine was wholly sensual.
“You’d better be careful,” I said even as I closed the distance. “You’re too arrogant for your own good.”
“I prefer confident.” His gaze turned hotter. “Or cocky.”
My nipples tightened into hard little pearls inside the cups of my bra. This was insane. Yet hadn’t I stripped naked for him inside his office? Sanity always fled far, far away whenever I was alone with Charles.
He looked me over from head to toe. “Tell you what. I promise to get you off in five minutes or less. Then we can go down and nibble on sandwiches with Mom and Dad.”
“Oh, that’s romantic.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.
Charles chuckled. “Screw romantic. You’re wet, aren’t you? Whatever your sensibilities, your body likes when I take over and challenge you. Right now, you’re wondering if I can really do it. You’re wondering how fast I can make you climax.”
He was right, damn him. I wanted to slap him and hump his brains out, maybe at the same time.
“I promise not to mark you where anyone can see,” he teased me.
When I still hesitated, he crawled backward on the bed so he could recline against the pillows. Never taking his gaze off me, he unbuckled his belt and opened the fly of his slacks. The bulge of his erection was already too large to miss, and it captured my attention as he reached for his waistband. Pants and briefs lowered together as he shoved them halfway down his thighs. His cock sprang up, long and flushed and aggressive with a shiny droplet of precum already glinting at the tip.
“Here’s what I want massaged, Fila. Tee up.”
My snort of laughter ruined the indignant glare I attempted to give him. Charles might have inspired mixed feelings in me, but there was no denying that raw lust and love were at the forefront. He wasn’t an easy man, but he was well worth the effort.
If I was going to do this, then there was no sense stalling. Although I felt like a pushover, I shoved my shorts and underwear to the floor and stepped out of them without removing my sandals. A second later, I straddled his hips and positioned the crown of his cock at my entrance.
“Don’t shank this one,” I told him.
He laughed as he cupped my waist. “Don’t worry, darling. There’s nothing wrong with my aim.”
At least he didn’t make any wisecracks about a hole in one as I sank down to engulf his rigid length. My descent was a bit premature, but the stretch and burn produced an answering rush of moisture that eased the way. With three short pumps, I had myself fully seated. A trembling sigh escaped my lips.
“Would you like a stopwatch?” Charles asked me.
I opened eyes I hadn’t realized I’d closed. “Very funny.”
“You’ll be smiling soon.”
Leaning forward, I crushed his mouth under mine to shut him up and began to ride. His solid length felt like it reached my throat and trailed fire between my legs. There was always an underlying sense of risk and excitement with Charles—something that added to my sense of vulnerability and made me even more conscious of his penetration. I bounced fast and hard, keenly aware of my parents waiting down below.
I was in a hurry to get where we were going, but I should have known Charles wouldn’t turn over the reins so easily. He grabbed the backs of my calves and pulled my feet toward his head so I toppled onto my back. I wound up lying on top of his legs with his cock still lodged firmly inside me. He took a firm hold on my hips.
“You’re not in charge, dear wife. I’m driving.” He used his strength to work his cock in and out of me. “You always have such big orgasms when I take away your control.”
“Dammit, Charles.” I pushed myself up so I was propped on my elbows, but I couldn’t get any leverage.
The position was awkward but erotic, especially since I was looking along the length of my half-clothed body to where our sexes joined. Our juices shone and made wet, licking noises where his shaft dipped in and out between my pouty nether lips.
“The key,” he informed me, “is a firm grip and a clean stroke.”
I started to retort with something about balls and a 3-wood, but my thoughts scattered before I could get the joke out. My whole sheath twitched in a preorgasmic warm-up, offering me a preview of the ecstasy to come. Charles plumbed me harder and faster until I keened.
I felt the tip of his insistent cock battering the opening to my womb. “You’re too deep.”
“Am I hurting you?”
“Yes. No.” I didn’t know. The pressure and pleasure and pinch all combined.
“Then I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. In so deep I own you.” He watched our sexes slam together too. “Just as you own me. Clock is ticking, Fila.”
I didn’t grasp what he’d said until he set his thumb to my clit. He strummed me with rapid flicks and then put pressure on the underside of the little button. When I didn’t go over, he released a frustrated growl.
“Fighting me, are you? We’ll see about that.”
Everything spun to my left, and suddenly I was half-suspended off the side of the bed. Charles sat right on the edge with me perched on his lap. Only the grip of his hands around my lower back kept me from tumbling to the floor, and the new position shifted his cock high inside me.
“I’ve still got ninety seconds.” He sounded winded, and he grunted as he churned his hips beneath me.
My clit was raw and aching—sensitive enough that the pressure of his cock and the occasional brush of his pubic hair sent zingers all the way into my womb. Held in the air as I was, I felt like I was flying. I was completely dependent on him for both support and pleasure.
The next time he slammed deep and filled me to capacity, my pussy surrendered with a series of quakes. My back bowed, and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. With my arms flung into midair, I writhed on his dick, clutching his length with a desperate, intimate hold. Charles groaned and pumped his cum, dropping me lower so his semen ran downhill.
“All of it,” he ground out. “Take all of me.”
I did: the good and the bad; body, spirit, and seed.
Once he was done, he pulled me into a sitting position on his lap and reached down to rake his fingers through my curls. He smiled when the caress made my sheath contract around him with aftershocks.
“I love it when your pussy grabs my cock like that.” It was something similar to what Chad had told me in bed, though my poetic husband had put it more eloquently.
I feigned looking at the clock. “You barely made it before the bell, babe. You must be losing your touch.”
The jibe had his dark eyebrows winging up, but I pushed off him before he had a chance to harden again. I bent to retrieve my shorts and underwear.
“You’re a bad, bad man,” I told him, though I didn’t put any heat behind the words. I disappeared into the bathroom for a minute to clean up before I got dressed again. “You’re a terrible influence on me. You make me do these things against my better judgment.”
“I loosen you up.” He appeared totally unrepentant as he moved to wipe his shaft and zip up his fly. “I keep you from getting too uptight, Fila. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of fun.”
“Ha! You’re the one who works all the time. I’m supposed to loosen you up.”
Charles slipped his arm around me where I stood do
uble-checking my reflection in the mirror. “Mission accomplished. I assure you I feel loose and relaxed now.”
I shook my head at him. At least I looked presentable. A bit flushed, perhaps, so I took time to walk back to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face before I headed for the door.
Looking as cool and collected as always, Charles joined me and tucked me close on the way down the stairs.
* * * *
For all that Charles could be aggravating, he definitely knew how to turn on the charm. Later that evening, while Chuck plied my dad with burgers fresh off the grill, Charles turned his attention to my mother. Mom, of course, didn’t make it easy for him, but then she didn’t know how much he liked a challenge. When Charles couldn’t win her over by the end of dinner, he maneuvered into position for another crack at her the next day.
He joined me and my parents for Sunday brunch—an early birthday celebration while they were here visiting. Being with my family always seemed to revolve around food: planning it, cooking it, eating it, or cleaning up after it. We were forever gathering around a meal. This time, the conversation flowed over hot croissant sandwiches. Charles managed to engage both my parents while paying special attention to my mom.
“I can see where my wife gets her strength of character,” he told her. “It’s one of the qualities I admire most about her.”
“She has a strong will.” Mom gave me a pointed look. “That made her a handful to raise, though she was never a bad child.”
“Gee, thanks,” I muttered.
Dad jumped in to rescue me. “My Fila always knew her own mind. I used to worry about her when she was little, but she’s a smart cookie. She makes good choices.”
Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see, but I thought my father gave Charles a man-to-man look as he said the last part.
Dad threw his arm around my mom and grinned at her. “As for these strong women, they keep us on our toes.”
“Oh, stop.” Mom gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. Then she looked at me and sighed. “Another year has gone by. I can’t believe my baby is all grown up and…married.”
I picked up on the hesitation before the last word, but I let it go. Instead I teased her. “And here you haven’t aged a bit.”
“Hmm. Wonderful, isn’t it?” That earned me a smile. “Like I’ve always told you, Fila. Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize. Take good care of your skin. I learned that from my mother, and look at how lovely she was right up to the end.”
It was one of the few times I’d heard my mom talk about Grandma Filomena without a hint of disapproval.
She patted the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Now, I hope there are some good stores around here. I’d like to take you shopping for your birthday. That way you can get something I know you’ll enjoy, and I don’t have to waste time guessing. You children are so particular.”
“Shopping?” My father made a face.
“Yes, dear. I talked to you about this last night.”
“You did?”
Mom huffed out a sigh. “I knew you weren’t listening.”
“It’s not a problem.” Charles broke in to take charge. “We can drop you ladies off at whatever store you like, and then I can drive Art home and come back for you.”
I leaned in to whisper to him. “You do realize we’ll probably hit half a dozen stores. You’ll be stuck chauffeuring us all day.”
“Not a problem.” He looked amused, not resigned. “Is that all right with you, Minnie?”
“That would be fine.” My mother was clearly pleased he’d looked to her for agreement.
“It’s settled then.” Charles signaled the waitress over.
He then went through a polite round of negotiations with my father before letting my parents take care of the bill. On the way out, he held the door for my mother and me before he walked ahead to open the car for us.
“Better you than me,” my father later told him when they dropped us off.
I didn’t catch my husband’s response.
They left us at a discount boutique downtown, which we were lucky was open on Sunday. The store was clean and well arranged, and most of the prices were reasonable. My mother’s eyes immediately lit up. The only thing she liked better than nice clothing was nice clothing for bargain prices. She hunted sales like rugged men hunted big game animals. It was like a competition between her and the clothing manufacturers, and she was intent on winning.
For the first few minutes, the only sound was the clack of the hangers as we flipped through the sales rack. I was the first to find something. The blue skirt was as soft as a whisper and happened to be in my size.
I pulled it out and held it up so she could see it. “This is pretty.”
“Yes, it is. You should try it on.”
I hooked it over my left hand while I continued to browse.
Her gaze never left the articles of clothing she was scanning. “So, I understand your Charles is some kind of executive.”
“That’s right.” I answered carefully, not sure where this was going. “He’s doing very well with the company and has a lot of ambition. I only wish he’d take time to enjoy his successes along the way. He works too hard.”
My mother dismissed the last sentiment. “He’s young. You’re supposed to work hard when you’re young. That’s the only way you get anywhere.” She pulled out a blouse and studied it for a moment. “The house is very nice. He must make a good income.”
“Sure. Plus Chad and I contribute too, and Chuck plans to take on outside work. We’re finally getting the house where we want it, but sometimes it feels like a money pit.”
“All houses are that way.” My mother held on to the blouse. “The year after your father and I bought our first house, the roof went, a pipe burst under the foundation, and our return vent became infested with ants. It was like a series of plagues.”
I smiled. Over the years, I’d heard this story more than once. I assumed she’d get on a roll with it, but her focus remained on me and my life.
She glanced at me before she moved to another rack. “You know, I wasn’t sure what to think of Charles at first. Since he’s a charmer, you never know how much substance is beneath the facade, but I can see he’s intelligent and hardworking. He’s obviously a good provider. Although I still think Chuck will make the better husband and father, I can see you with Charles.”
“Mom, I am with Charles. With him and Chuck and Chad. This isn’t a pageant or something. I’ve already made my choice.”
“I’m just saying you should consider your options. This is your life we’re talking about.” She pulled out another shirt and held it out for me. “You should try this. The vertical stripes are very slenderizing.”
I accepted the garment and counted to ten in my head. Not wanting to say something I couldn’t take back, I bit my lip and let the subject drop for now.
By the time Charles came to pick us up, my mood was improved by the new skirt I’d gotten. I thanked my mother for the gift and resolved to stick to clothes and harmless topics for the rest of the day. My husband actually made that easier for me.
Charles went above and beyond as he chauffeured us around to the various shops and department stores. He had us put on fashion shows for him outside the dressing rooms, carried our bags, and kept the compliments flowing.
“You have a great sense of style and proportion,” he told my mother, who blushed despite her reservations about him and his flattery.
He was a consummate kiss up when he wanted to be, mostly because he delivered each line with such panache you didn’t really care if he meant it or not.
When the day wound down and we started to complain about sore feet, he took us out for cocktails before he drove us home.
I gave him a quick kiss as we unloaded the trunk. “You’re terrific.”
His grin was smug. “I have my moments.”
We walked inside, where I was met with a curious mix of aromas. My mom immediately headed up
to the guest room to change her shoes. I remained downstairs and, after stowing my shopping bags, followed the more obvious scent of food to the kitchen. There was no one there, but there was a big pot of soup simmering on the stove. That had to be Chad’s handiwork.
A minute later, I found him in the family room reading a book. He set it down and greeted me when I leaned in for a kiss.
“You made dinner again?” I hadn’t expected that.
Chad shrugged. “I just threw together some leftover vegetables and broth. I was thinking you might make some of your popovers to go with it.”
“Good idea.” I sniffed again, still curious about what else I smelled. “What is that?”
He arched his eyebrows at me. “Can you be more specific?”
“That odor. It doesn’t smell like a chemical, but it has that…industrial quality to it. Is Chuck painting again or something?”
“Ah. I believe that would be grout or thin set or whatever you call it. Chuck and your father have been busy for most of the afternoon.”
“Busy with what?” I wasn’t sure whether or not to be nervous.
“The half bath downstairs. Go look for yourself.”
I hurried to do just that. When I reached them, the two men were standing outside the doorway staring in at the bathroom. I joined them and dropped my gaze to the floor.
“You got rid of the old, chipped tile.” I definitely approved, though I hadn’t expected this particular renovation so soon.
In place of the battered orange squares that had been in there when we bought the house, there were now clean tiles of textured beige. Even with the grout lines unfilled, the floor looked great. It was a testament to the degree of improvement that this was the first thing I noticed when, in fact, the toilet and cabinet sink were missing.
“The old stuff was a bear to bust out of here,” my dad informed me. “It took us twice as long as we thought it would, but the space is small enough it was easy going after that.”
Chuck nodded, still staring at their accomplishment. “It went so much faster with two people. I measured, your dad cut the tile, and down it went. Doesn’t it look good?”
