"Meaning we have other things to do?" I guess with a sassy tilt to my head.
"I'm hard as a rock for you. We can talk more after we take care of that."
"Want me to finish sucking you off?" I coyly ask him as my hand drops down and wraps around his erection.
Zach's hand comes to rest against mine, his fingers curling around my own as I fist his cock. He forces me to stroke him up and down a few times, but then surprises me when he shakes his head and releases his grasp. He stands up and pulls me along with him. "No, I think tonight I want to fuck my wife all nice and slow. I believe we call it making love, right?"
"Oooh, a romantic," I say as I bat my eyelashes at him.
He grins and sweeps me up in his arms. In three strides, he's back to the bed where he's lowering me to the mattress. His body covers mine, and he kisses me deeply... sweetly. When he pulls away, he rubs his nose along mine and whispers, "I'm really sorry about tonight."
"Me too," I whisper back.
Then my husband proceeds to make love to me... very nice and slow.
Chapter 4
Zach
It's amazing that some really phenomenal sex last night reset everything, and that's a testament to the insane chemistry that exists between Moira and me. An amazing chemical attraction that has me waking up naturally before the kids, my cock half hard, and my fingers immediately going between my wife's legs.
Fuck, it's been so long since I've taken the time to wake her up this way. Back when I first came to the modern world eight and a half years ago, I didn't know shit about what sex was really all about. In my tribe, the man was the dominant. When he felt like fucking, he put the woman on her knees, in the dirt, often in front of the entire tribe, and he got his rocks off. I never even knew women could orgasm like a man could until I watched Moira pleasure herself one night as we made our way out of the jungle. A few weeks later, after an intense computer pornography session where I learned a great deal, including words like fuck, cock, blowjob and pussy, I realized there were all kinds of ways a man and a woman could enjoy sex together.
After I fucked Moira for the very first time, which said first time had to be with my hand at the back of her neck and her knees pressed hard into the carpet, I rolled her over and ate her out. It was then that I realized the power I possessed in not just my cock, but in my tongue and fingers as well. Thereafter, I often woke up before Moira, and my first order of business was to see how fast I could get her wet with just my fingers. Sometimes, I could make her come in her sleep, but most often, she would wake up, spread her legs, and invite me in. Tongue or mouth, it didn't matter to her.
Or me.
Seems so long ago.
Moira moans in her sleep as my fingers swipe through her folds, which become slicker with desire the more I play. Her breathing hitches and her lower body starts to squirm. The minute she cracks her eyes open and gives me that happy-sleepy-please-fuck-me-smile that I love so much, I roll over, spread her legs wide, and sink in.
A starved sound bubbles out of my throat, and I think, Why the fuck are we not doing this every single morning of our lives?
"Feels good," she pants as I start to move faster within her. Although I very much enjoy fucking my wife this morning, I know the kids could wake up at any moment so I need to get this done for both of us.
My hand slides down in between our bodies, and I rub at her clit as I thrust harder. "Want you to come for me, baby."
"Not going to be long," she moans as her hips gyrate in sweet synchronicity.
Yeah, for me either, so I urge her with some dirty talk. "You know what I'm dying to do?" I huff out with strained breath as I pound harder.
She grunts in question.
"Been too long since I had your ass."
And yeah... just saying that out loud starts tingling prickles in my balls. It's been so long and that's because we never seem to have time for slow foreplay, and the one thing I never fail to give Moira is the needed preparation her ass has to have to take my cock. The thought of me rolling her over and sinking into that tight, hot--
"Fuck Moira," I gasp as I plunge in deep and squeeze my eyes shut as I start to come. As if by divine connection, her body trembles hard as her orgasm crashes through her at the same time. I can almost feel the tiny pulses of it as my fingers still glide along her clit while I fill my wife up.
Groaning, I drop down onto her body, pressing lips to her shoulder. Her hands come up around my neck, fingers going into my hair to stroke my scalp.
"Well, good morning, Mr. Easton," she murmurs.
"Good morning," I mumble with my lips still against her skin.
And on cue, Jaime starts to cry from her crib down the hall.
I hand Moira her coffee as she walks into the kitchen. She has on a terrycloth robe, her fiery red hair bunched up in a messy knot on top of her head, and a red flush still on her neck from the orgasm I just gave her. She accepts the cup, goes on tiptoe to kiss my jaw, and then heads to the kitchen table where Cannon is in his booster seat and Jaime's high chair is pulled up beside him. Since I had sort of a late start this morning--not complaining by any means--I went with a super-fast breakfast of bananas and milk for them both. I know Moira will give them something more substantial later.
Moira bends down to kiss the top of Jaime's head, and then Cannon's, before turning back to me. Her eyes are sparkling, and I think that is further reason I should give my wife at least one orgasm every morning.
She takes a sip of coffee, moans, and then smiles at me. "Good coffee."
"Well deserved after good sex," I say with a return grin.
"Great sex."
"The best," I agree, but then my smile slides a bit. "We okay?"
Moira gets a knowing look in her eye and prepares to handle me. While I may be the badass, Tarzan-like warrior who emerged from the jungle and can conquer the world, when it boils down to it, Moira has always been the strongest of the two of us when it comes to our relationship. She's understood intimacy, trust, loyalty, and love far longer than I have. She knows that even after more than eight years of loving her, I still have my insecurities.
She walks up to me, her gorgeous hips swaying sexily, and stops just a few feet away. Leaning casually against the edge of the counter, she levels me with a penetrating stare. "I'm sure we will be."
"I really am sorry for screwing dinner up last night--"
She cuts me off. "I know. I knew it the minute your hand rested on my chest last night."
Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. "When did our lives get so hectic?"
"It's your fault," she says with a small laugh, followed by a quick sip of coffee. "The minute your sperm punched through my egg, it got hectic. But I suspect this happens a lot to marriage when kids and life get in the way."
"So what do we do about it?"
Pursing her lips in thought, she tilts her head and gives a tiny shrug. "Do the best we can, I suppose. Talk more. Don't let things fester."
"Would it be totally cliche as a man to say 'more sex'?" I ask her in total seriousness.
She nods in affirmation. "Totally cliche, but I'm also in total agreement."
Reaching out, I take her cup from her hands. Setting it on the counter, I pull her into my arms. I enjoy the few blissful moments of peace that we have right now while the kids happily eat their breakfast bananas and my warm and freshly fucked wife cuddles into me.
"I love you," she says.
"I love you."
After a moment, I kiss her on the head and pull back. "I need your advice on something."
She turns, grabs her coffee, and leans back against the counter. "Shoot."
"Well... I think something weird is going on with Lila," I hesitantly say.
No hesitance in laying this out to Moira--she'll help me deal--but more so that maybe I imagined something that wasn't there. I don't want to cause Moira to doubt what may be just a very good secretary who I misinterpreted something from.
"Like what?" s
he asks with a cute-as-hell head tilt.
"I don't know," I hem, but before I can haw, I continue on. "Well... she's just... her clothes are different and her hair. Yesterday, she arched her back at me and seemed offended when I told her to submit in overtime hours..."
And then, I fall flat. I'm not conveying it right, and Moira knows it. She gives me a small, encouraging smile. "Back up. Slow down. Start from the beginning."
So I do.
I relay to her everything that I suddenly noticed last night in one clarifying moment. When I mention the way that Lila now calls me Zach instead of Mr. Easton, Moira nods and says, "Yeah... I noticed that too."
When I finish, I watch my wife consider what I had to say and then she drains her coffee. As she goes to the Keurig for a refill, she says, "I'm not sure it's anything, Zach. She may just be a devoted employee... uber loyal to you. Her wardrobe may be changing because she's a woman, and maybe she's changing... or feeling more comfortable in the job. Hell, she may have a hot, new stud of a boyfriend, and it's making her feel sexier or something."
"But she arched her back," I point out.
"Yeah... wow. Off with her head," she says in a mocking, cockney accent. She then gives a laugh. "It was close to ten PM, and you both had worked a fifteen-hour day, right? Who wouldn't arch their back?"
And suddenly, I feel stupid for even thinking those things about Lila. She has never once said anything inappropriate or acted in a non-professional manner. So maybe she was a little frosty about Moira, but sure... maybe she just has my back as my secretary.
Most importantly, Moira doesn't seem bent out of shape about it, so maybe I shouldn't either. I mean... I have ten months invested and she's a fantastic employee in all other ways. What most likely happened was that the stress of work and feeling out of sorts with my wife was making me see things with the wrong perspective.
"Okay," I say as I let out a sigh of relief. "You make valid points."
"I'm smart that way," she says with a sassy grin as she turns to walk past me. She even bumps her hip against mine, and for the first time in a long time, my cock actually twitches from just that minor of a touch from her. Just like in the early days... the glory days when just a sniff of Moira's shampoo could make me hard.
I feel better... about everything.
We're going to be okay.
Chapter 5
Moira
Well, that didn't last long.
The glow... post-orgasmic high... feeling of connection with my husband.
He's in a pattern of coming home late again--five days in a row now--and as I strain the spaghetti, I know he's not going to make dinner tonight. Not because of intuition, or because he's gone back to the workaholic pattern that's entering into days of repetition, but because Lila called me to tell me that he had another emergency come up. To Zach's credit, the prior four nights he's missed dinner, and subsequently sex with me, he's called himself to let me know he's up to his neck in work. He was so damn apologetic with promises to make it up that I couldn't help but reassure him it was all good.
Even tonight, when Lila called me, she was very clear why she was calling and not Zach. Apparently, he was stuck on a five-way conference call with other board members, trying to deal with a steaming, hot fire... the surprising resignation of the CFO of the company who is leaving for a major competitor.
So, as far as excuses go, that's a pretty damn good one, and I couldn't be mad about it.
But I could be sad.
And frustrated.
And--
"Why are you scowling at the pasta, Moira dear?" Randall asks, and I lift my face to him.
He's helping Jaime hold a small cup of water to drink from, insistent she's ready to give up the sippy cup and hey... if he can get her to drink without spilling, I'm all for it. Cannon is quietly tapping away on my laptop I had opened on the table; it's purely amazing what small kids can do with technology these days and the abundance of apps for their entertainment and learning. I'm not sure how I'd ever get a damn meal cooked without Barney for Jaime and electronics for Cannon.
I give a sigh and lay the truth out to Randall, because even though I don't have the same, life-long connection that Zach has to him, I've come to greatly love him. He's done so much for Zach... for me... for our family. And he does it out of pure love without the expectation of anything in return. He's become a father figure to me as well as Zach, and I trust in our relationship to seek his advice when necessary.
Lifting the colander, I give a shake to the pasta as steam wafts up. "Just missing my husband. All he seems to do is work."
I know that sounds whiny. There are some who would think I was stupid to divulge this to what is essentially Zach's boss, but Randall is first and foremost family, and I have no such hesitation.
Randall nods in understanding. "I know he's put in a few late nights here and there, and tonight... well, Charlie resigning was out of the blue."
I give Randall a quick look of disbelief and shake my head. Is it possible that he doesn't truly know how absent Zach has been for several months now?
"Randall... this is the fifth night in a row he's missed dinner. The last four nights he hasn't come home until after ten each night, and this has been pretty par for the course for months now."
Randall gives a little jerk in his chair and pulls the cup back from Jaime. He actually starts to bluster a little bit. "Well... I mean, I'm sure he's working and that there's not anything untoward happening--"
I let out a bark of a laugh, which stops him mid-sentence. "Relax, Randall... I don't think Zach is cheating on me. I'm sorry if you got that impression."
"Oh, well," he mutters with chagrin.
"It's just... he's missing out on so much with the kids, and I'm lonely because all I have is the kids. Granted, I'm going to be starting work next week, but that still doesn't mean he won't be missing out on stuff, and it will even impede on our time together further. It's just--"
"Intolerable?"
"Frustrating."
"Unbearable?"
"Frustrating," I repeat. "I know his work is important, and he's trying so hard to make you proud and comfortable with the opportunities you've given him."
"But I am proud of him," Randall says in confusion. "And he has nothing to prove to me. I know Zach's value."
"Well, I'm not sure he sees eye to eye with you on that," I tell him as I dump the pasta onto a big platter. I start to spoon the sauce over the top as Randall gets up from his chair. He walks around the kitchen island that separates us and sets the small, plastic cup in the sink.
Jaime curiously eyes both of us, her eyes sliding over to the spaghetti, which is her favorite.
"I feel a bit guilty," Randall says as he leans over to rest an elbow on the counter. He's as dapper as ever with his snowy-white hair, youthful skin, and fashionable mauve button down with crisp, gray slacks.
"Why's that?" I ask as I turn to the cupboard to pull out the plates.
"Well... I've had no problem with letting Zach step in and take over so many of my own duties. I should be there tonight handling Charlie's resignation. It's just... I'm trying to get him to learn all he can about the business. And he handles it all so effortlessly. But I never thought the fact it seems effortless is coming at the expense of him running himself into the ground... or impinging on your marriage."
"It's not hurting our marriage," I hastily assure him as I turn from the cupboard and give him a confident smile that I truly don't feel. It's so hurting our marriage if it's causing me to feel this way, but I don't want to make Randall uneasy.
Even worse, even though Zach and I made promises to each other just a few days ago that we would always talk things out, I haven't had the courage to bring it up. I didn't want to seem like a whiner or a nag. I don't ever want to see "that look" on his face when I try to bring up something to him, and he looks henpecked. I want to be the easygoing wife who can handle sacrifices for the greater good of the family, no matter how miserable it mak
es me.
"Moira," Randall says sagely as he takes the plates from me and turns to head to the table. I grab the platter of pasta and follow behind him. After he sets his load down, he turns and takes the platter from me. He places it on the table and turns back again, his hands coming to my shoulders where they grip me with solid comfort. "Hear me when I say... there are many spouses who are completely fine with their significant others keeping hours like that. And that's okay--nothing wrong with that. But there are others who are not, and there is also nothing wrong with you not liking it. In fact, I expect that has to do with the incredible bond you and Zach have. I expect it affects you harder."
"You think so?" I ask with a soft smile, wanting him to impress upon me just how special Zach and I are together. I lamely need the reassurance.
"I know it. Never seen anything like it before. And while you may see Zach as being focused on work, I can absolutely guarantee you he is miserable being away from you and the kids. I'm betting the one thing that is keeping him going so strong is that he's doing this for you and the kids."
"Neither one of us wants to let you down," I tell him, making sure he understands Zach will do whatever is necessary to pay Randall back for his generosity.
"It's not possible for either of you to do that," he says with a chuckle, and the tightness I had been sporting most of the week in my chest seems to loosen. "Zach is going to have to cut back, that's all there is to it, and me and the company will adjust. It will be fine, trust me."
I let out what may be the biggest sigh of relief in the history of sighs. Giving him a grateful smile, I hug him to let him know how much this means to me. "You think he's going to fight you on that, or will he just capitulate?"
"Sorry?" Randall asks, his head quizzically tilted.
I falter, but then I mumble. "You said he needs to cut back--"
"Well, he does, Moira," Randall says with a twinkle in his eye. "But I'm not the one who's going to tell him that. You are. This is yours and Zach's problem, and you need to figure out how to communicate with each other about it."
"Pardon me?" I ask, completely dumbfounded.
Chuckling, Randall sits down and uses the tongs I had laid on top of the pasta to dish a tiny bit out for Jaime. He then starts to cut the strands into small pieces with a fork. "I'm not doing the hard work for you. It should be enough for me to let you in on the little secret that I don't expect Zach to keep insane hours. I expect diligence from him, and he'll give it to me, but him missing this much time with the family is really not needed. But you need to put your foot down, and you need to let Zach know this. I'm not getting involved because there is a tiny chance that perhaps Zach needs to do this for his own sense of accomplishment, and I'm not about to impede that. That's for a husband and wife to figure out on their own."
Love Page 3
