He had been trying to work. There were papers spread across the antique desk in the office, allowing him the space he needed to spread out his thoughts. His hair fell into his eyes, making it hard for him to concentrate. He knew he needed a haircut, but had found it nearly impossible to find enough time to run down to the barber. Part of him wanted to just have Shelagh cut it for him, but she had enough pressure on her at the moment.
He groaned, leaning his elbows against the desk and resting his head in his hands as he read over the journal article in front of him again, trying to memorise the important bits. He closed his eyes, sighing, as he heard the door to the office open, Shelagh's footsteps tapping against the tiles as she moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her chin resting on his shoulder.
"Shelagh," he breathed, letting the side of his head rest against her temple for a moment. "I'm working," he muttered. As much as he desperately wanted to just fall into the waiting arms of his wife, he knew he needed to finish reading these new notes over. They were studies on drugs that were alternative to Thalidomide that had academic evidence to support their safe use during pregnancy.
"Don't be so bourgeoisie," Shelagh scolded light-heartedly, kissing his cheek as she skimmed her fingers over his collarbones, moving them precariously close to his tie which she soon began to loosen.
"We are bourgeoisie," he countered, looking at her in his periphery.
"Couldn't we take time off? Be wanton hedonists for an hour?" she teased. "We have received some good news," she added, half under her breath. He caught the words regardless but didn't press her for them, so content to just feel her resting against his back. She had been just as distraught recently, her playful behaviour that appeared behind the doors of their flat having dissipated almost overnight in the wake of such horrors. Now, however, it seemed as if it was coming back and he was wary to push her away. "So," she whispered, kissing his neck, "we should celebrate." He couldn't help but smile at her, the wicked little temptress that she was. He reached around his side, yanking her carefully until she fell into his lap, laughing in the silence of the office.
"Very well. But only for forty-five minutes," he admonished, one hand tangling into her hair.
"That doesn't sound very wanton," she breathed, voice hitching as she felt him kiss behind her ear, latching onto the skin and biting it, undoing her hair pins at the same time.
"Haven't started yet," he murmured, laving the same patch of skin with tongue and teeth until she moaned. He lifted her from his lap then, placing her backside onto the wooden surface of the desk, standing up so that he towered over her, a hand now resting on either side of her hips. The papers behind her, the ones he had been so desperate to read, made a crackling noise, causing her to jump slightly.
"Doctor Turner, just what debauchery do you think we're going to get up to?" she asked, breathless. He rolled his eyes before lowering his head down to hers and kissing her firmly on the lips, her arms almost instantly going around his neck. She was about to ask another question, inquire if they should make sure the door was locked when he interrupted her, choosing that moment to grab her breast, palming it gently through the fabric of her nurse's uniform. She whimpered softly, biting her bottom lip. "Is… isn't this a bit… public?" she panted, already feeling her head getting light. Patrick looked her in the eyes, brown meeting blue, as he shrugged.
"Do you want me to stop?" he growled in her ear, hand sliding up her thigh, nails scraping along the delicate flesh that rested above the edge of her nylons, fingers playing with the clasp of her garter.
"That's not what I meant!" she rushed, grip tightening on his shoulders, causing him to chuckle as he suddenly moved his hands to her hips, picking her up without warning and flipping her over, rough and yet so careful at the same time, ensuring that she wasn't hurt in the process. Shelagh gasped, having not anticipated such a movement, her husband crowding up behind her as her breasts pressed against the wood, papers crinkling beneath her. His hands were against her thighs again, pushing her skirt up until it rested around her hips. His fingers followed quickly, slipping underneath the fabric of her knickers and along her womanhood, making her groan. She couldn't help but grab at the surface beneath her at the feeling of him pressing his digits inside her, papers crumpling in her fists.
"This enough wanton hedonism for you?" he asked, leaning over her and pressing his trouser covered erection into her backside. Shelagh felt a shiver run down her spine, feeling the wetness pooling between her legs and soaking the fabric that still partially covered her.
"Not quite," she admitted, a low noise escaping her at the feeling of his fingers playing with her, teasing her until she was almost rabid with desire. "Stop teasing me," Shelagh mumbled, her mind spinning as he drove her higher and higher in her arousal. When she had come into the office she had thought she might convince him to look away from his work long enough for a kiss and some tea, a snog at the most. This, albeit extremely enjoyable, had not been on her mind.
She moaned, her eyes clenched shut as Patrick added another finger, twisting the digits slightly as he moved them in and out of her. She felt him move away from her before she heard him slipping to the ground, taking his fingers out of her and replacing them with his tongue, making her hips jump. His tongue passed over her opening, moving up until it was on her clit, rotating in small circles against the bundle of nerves there. Moving back down to her centre, he nipped at her, prodding her with a finger again before his mouth resumed its upward motion, latching onto her clit and sucking. Hard.
"I… ahhh….oh God," she groaned, fingers clutching at the edge of the surface as her body started to shudder, tipping her over into orgasm without warning. She felt him continue to lap at her as she rode it out, his fingers slowing as she collapsed onto the desk.
"You're so beautiful," he told her, kissing her shoulder as he stood up.
"We... we... we still have twenty six minutes," she finally managed to get out through her still ragged breaths. Patrick grinned down at her, reaching down and undoing his trousers. She bit her lip while she waited, unable to contain her desire for him.
"I've been thinking about doing this all day," he hissed into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Maybe not here, in this room, but I have wanted nothing more than to have my way with you since this morning. You looked so gorgeous in that nightgown you were wearing last night. The way the sun was catching your hair while you sat at the vanity. If I hadn't had calls to make I wouldn't have let you leave the bed," he breathed, trousers and pants now pushed down around his knees as he crowded up against her, leaning over her.
"Oh?" she giggled, breathless, feeling him pressing into her centre.
"I always want you Shelagh," he said, thrusting into her then, making her gasp as her thighs hit the edge of the desk. She felt his fingers press into her hips as he started to move, his pace slow and measured, dragging out every ounce of pleasure he could from her in that moment.
"Oh, oh please," she panted, not used to how it felt to have him at this angle. He was lighting sparks along nerve endings that she hadn't felt before, sweat breaking out on her skin at the sensation. For his part, Patrick grit his teeth, feeling as if her muscles were trying to draw him in impossibly deeper, a grunt falling from his lips. "Faster, please, faster," she begged.
He seemed to agree with the comment, starting to thrust into her with increasing vigour, his eyes skimming over the vision of his wife. Splayed across the desk, arse in the air, skirt about her hips and garter belt a startling contrast to the colour of her skin as he entered her over and over. He had never seen something so arousing, wanting to engrain the image permanently into his mind. How he could see perspiration on the back of her neck, wayward strands of hair clinging to her flesh. How the points of contact where his fingers pressed into her were almost white from pressure. How she was grabbing anything she could to steady herself, hips rolling against his as she chased her own pleasure.
One hand slid from her hips, going to her shoulder and pulling her chest off the desk so that he could press his lips to hers in a sloppy kiss, their movements shaky and frantic as Shelagh balanced them both with one hand still firmly on the wood. Without warning she let out a small scream, body convulsing as her release hit her.
"Oh God," Patrick groaned, clinging to her as he emptied himself inside her. Carefully he braced his hands on the desk, legs trembling as he pulled out of her, collapsing back into his chair with a winded laugh. Shelagh panted, stumbling slightly as she managed to climb back onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her. "Still five minutes to spare," he stated, kissing her sweaty temple. Shelagh giggled, hiding her face in his neck.
"Suppose that's enough time for a little cuddle then," she suggested, curling her body into his as he stroked a hand up and down her back.
"Darling, you said we needed to celebrate something," he murmured, hating that he could feel himself drifting off. He still had work to do, the papers, now creased and worn for his wife's body, demanding to be read and memorised.
"Yes," she replied, sleep tinting her own voice.
"What is it?" he queried, curiosity suddenly filling him as he felt her place a kiss to his neck.
"I'll tell you tomorrow."