Henry closed the front door behind him, the air-conditioning of their farmhouse providing cool relief from the heat of the late Virginia summer. He watched the lean muscles flex in Elizabeth's back, bare above the bodice of her dress, as she set down her evening bag on the foyer table. A strange tension had bubbled between them all night, simmering just under their interactions throughout the faculty banquet they'd attended at the University of Virginia. Part of the evening's program honored Henry for the latest treatise he'd submitted to the international religious community. Elizabeth's pride in his success had been genuine, and although she wasn't enamoured with his contemporaries, had never scoffed at their various social interactions. Until tonight. Henry couldn't quite determine the reason, and Elizabeth had said nothing other than in superficial conversation with their colleagues.
He'd sensed a hint of snark in her tone a few times, but the women with whom she was speaking showed no reaction. Elizabeth's expression was pure innocence, of course. She'd laughed easily, made the appropriate comments in all the right moments. But Henry was well versed in his wife's body language, and wasn't convinced. Elizabeth was more than skilled at veiling her insults, if she chose to do so.
"You're jealous," Henry noted, suddenly, the first words either of them had spoken since they'd gotten in their car for the drive home. Her spine snapped sharply at this comment, blonde curls spilling over the shoulders she straightened.
Elizabeth turned to Henry, slowly, deliberately. "I'm not jealous." Her voice was tinged with indignation, and something else, entirely. Amusement, perhaps? Her face showed no hint of emotion, but her eyes dared him to challenge her.
Henry quirked an eyebrow in silent argument, the barest hint of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "If you say so." He shrugged out of his suit jacket, laying it across the table. "You've been in a mood all night. If not jealousy, then what?" Henry loosened his tie slightly, opening the top buttons of his shirt.
"I was making a statement," Elizabeth clarified firmly, all but licking her lips as she watched her husband's lean fingers reveal more of his skin.
Henry agreed with Elizabeth on that fact, at least. Her fire-engine red dress slicked down her body, following her curves as smoothly his hands often did, lips boldly painted to match. She'd taken more care with her makeup than usual, smoky charcoal highlighting her eyes.
"Some people needed a reminder," she continued, enunciating each word carefully. Elizabeth stepped toward her husband, eyes blazing blue fire. She grasped his tie in her fingers, tugging Henry closer to her. As his hands molded her hips, Elizabeth stretched up on her toes until their eyes were level. "You're mine," she proclaimed in a heated whisper, before taking his mouth in a searing kiss.
Henry let their passion consume them for a long moment, then pulled her away from him. "Wait. What do you mean?" he asked, confusion warring with his desire. Henry squeezed her waist gently when Elizabeth didn't respond immediately, but observed him with a smirk, instead.
"You deserve all of the accolades they gave you tonight," Elizabeth acknowledged, more seriously, "and I'm very proud to be your wife." She released her hold on his tie to lay a hand over his heart. "But I don't like other women fawning over my husband. No matter how gorgeous and intelligent he is." Her other hand cupped Henry's face, fingers tracing his jawline. "Certainly not while I'm standing right next to him." Her grip tightened briefly as she traced a thumb over his lips.
She moved to kiss him again, but he stopped her by pressing on her hips, causing her to step back to maintain her balance in her shoes. "I work with their husbands," Henry replied, in reference to the wives of his fellow professors. "They were just being nice." The disbelief was evident in his voice; she was jealous.
"You don't really believe that," Elizabeth snorted. "Crystal or Christy or whatever was almost petting you, and Doreen nearly popped a false eyelash off batting her eyes," she fumed. "Don't even get me started on the redhead."
"Catherine," Henry corrected, almost unconsciously, earning a glare from his wife. He wisely muffled a laugh, and changed tactics to counter Elizabeth's rant. "I don't care about those women," he insisted sincerely. "I don't want anyone but you."
"I know," Elizabeth acquiesced. "But they obviously didn't, and you weren't discouraging them," she pointed out. "So I reminded them who you belong to."
Her gaze locked on his, Elizabeth reached behind her, the zipper of her dress echoing in the stark silence. As she straightened her arms, a slight shrug sent the dress shimmering to the floor. The dim light in the hallway drenched her naked body in shadows and sin, sparkling off the glittery straps of her heels.
"Elizabeth," Henry stuttered. Her name caught in his throat, his hazel eyes darkening with lust.
Elizabeth bit her lip, her wicked smile full of promise. "Maybe you need a reminder, too." She crowded Henry back against the front door, her bare breasts pressed against the starched fabric of his dress shirt. She swept her palms sensuously from his shoulders to his hands, grasping his wrists.
Henry half heartedly fought against her grip, as Elizabeth felt him swell against her stomach, through his clothes. She squeezed her fingers to stop his movements, willing him with her eyes to give her what she wanted.
"The kids…," Henry began, as he swallowed dryly.
"Asleep in the back of the house," Elizabeth confirmed. "Stevie knew we were on the way home. None of them will interrupt us."
"But..." Henry struggled to focus through the rushing of blood in his head, for some reason why they shouldn't be doing this, right there, why Elizabeth shouldn't be standing naked in the front hallway of their house.
"Do you really want me to stop?" She purred huskily.
Mesmerized by his wife, Henry relinquished to her the control she had over him. He had no willpower to deny her, and honestly didn't want to. He loved her more than life, trusted her enough to let her take what she needed.
Elizabeth saw the answer in his eyes long before he shook his head. Power raced through her veins, an intoxication stronger than liquor. "I didn't think so," she replied, triumphantly.
Elizabeth deftly unclasped his belt buckle and pants, pulling down the zipper just enough to slide his penis through the opening of his boxers. Henry was already hard, and gasped softly as she knelt in front of him. She wrapped her fingers around his length and stroked him, hand over hand, smoothly, steadily increasing her pressure.
Elizabeth fluttered her tongue at the tip of his erection, teasing strokes feather light, until Henry began to buck his hips toward her. Her thumbs settled in the creases between his leg and groin, hands on his thighs, as she held him against the door. Henry moaned when Elizabeth took him fully in her mouth, and tangled his hands in her hair. She varied her suction and rhythm, occasionally cupping his balls in her hand, pushing him toward the edge, then easing him back, over and over again.
Henry couldn't think beyond the barrage of pleasure assaulting his body. The air turned thick and humid, clogging his lungs. Sweat began beading under his dress shirt, his muscles shaking from the strain. Henry might have been pleading with his wife, might have been moaning her name, but he didn't care about anything but the climax he knew she'd bring him. His fingers gently tightened in the wispy blonde strands as Elizabeth drove him to oblivion, unwittingly thrusting against her.
Elizabeth shifted, clenching her thighs together to relieve the throbbing between her legs. This was about Henry, but God, she wanted release. She'd been turned on from the moment she decided to forgo lingerie under her dress, and the sexual tension had built along with her annoyance. She had chosen her ensemble intentionally, having experienced previous encounters with Henry's flock of admirers. He really was clueless as to the extent of the attention, ignoring the behavior because he had no interest, but Elizabeth was very well aware. An unavailable, attractive man could be an addiction, and Henry gathered quite the cult following on campus. While she didn't doubt he loved her, sometimes even a woman confident in her marriage needed affirmation, for both herself and her husband.
Elizabeth set one foot on the floor, spreading her legs slightly so she could slip her fingers into her folds. She nearly moaned when she brushed her clit, wet and slick from her arousal. As much as she loved Henry's mouth and hands on her body, Elizabeth took just as much pleasure from touching him, and tonight, his surrender enhanced her desire. Her muscles clenched, craving him to fill her. Her breasts were heavy, nipples peaked in the cool night air.
A low growl ripped from Henry's throat. Elizabeth looked up at her husband, as she stroked herself in rhythm with her mouth on his erection. "You're driving me crazy," he panted. His dark pupils drowned his hazel eyes, wide with passion.
She pulled away, blowing softly on his moist skin. Her thumb and index finger circled the base of his shaft. "I haven't yet," Elizabeth replied, a feral gleam in her eyes. She rocked her hips deliberately against her hand, dipping her fingers inside her core, shivering slightly at the sensation. "That's later, when I make you watch me touch myself." She licked him, one solid stroke base to tip, and he jerked, following the motion of her tongue.
Henry whimpered her name. "Please."
"What do you want?" Elizabeth needed to hear him beg, to know he wanted her beyond all reason. "Tell me."
"Please, Elizabeth," he repeated, almost desperate. "Make me come."
Henry didn't need much more stimulation to push him over the edge. Elizabeth enveloped him again in her mouth, warm and wet. Her slick fingers trailed along the skin behind his testicles, stroking firmly, once, twice, then pressed down as she sucked him deep.
Henry shuddered for a long moment, his head thrown back, mouth open in a silent moan, and Elizabeth felt his warm release in her throat. She swallowed willingly, delighting in the vision of her husband as he lost himself to what she could give him.
When Henry caught his breath, Elizabeth stood in front of him, lust clouding her eyes, a smug smile on her lips. He leaned in, his kiss warm and intimate, tasting himself on her mouth. She tucked him gently back into his clothes, and felt him twitch slightly, still sensitive from his orgasm.
"Babe" he murmured, resting his forehead on hers. "You're…. That was…." Henry trailed off.
"Speechless, huh?" Elizabeth combed her fingers through his hair, patiently waiting for Henry to gather his thoughts. He hummed in confirmation, tilting his head into her caress.
Henry took a deep breath, centering himself, then looked directly at his wife, taking both her hands in his. "You made your point." He contemplated her a moment, his expression silently compelling her to listen, really listen, to him. "But you didn't have to prove anything. You don't ever need to doubt what we have, or how much I love you."
"I know." Elizabeth's smile softened in response to her husband's heartfelt declaration. "I didn't have to prove anything, but sometimes," she shrugged, as if she didn't quite understand herself, "I just need to."
"You're everything to me, you know that, right." His statement was both a question and confirmation.
"I know that, too, and I love you." Now her mouth curved slyly. "Come on, let's go to bed. I'm not quite done with you yet."