Every time she looked at him she fell more in love. He was so handsome, and so charming. Rarely was his face without an amused smile or a cigar. When he looked at her, she felt as if she was the most desirable creature in the world, because she was to him. After years of marriage their passion was still burning strong. Countless honeymoons, and the making of two children only encouraged their eternal desire.

Morticia sighed to herself, thinking of her darling husband always calmed her mind. She was amazed that she could be so completely happy. In fact, he was her happiness. Not a day went by that she wasn't completely consumed by bliss. Even if she was down, he could pick her up with a single glance. She craved his attention as if it was a vital source of life. His loving obsession kept her afloat. She knew who she was because he loved her.

"Is everything alright, cara mia?" His hands rubbed across her shoulders, his face leaned into her hair. There was a slight tickle as a few strands tickled her neck, dancing against the current of his breath. She raised her hand to his cheek, caressing him with her long nails.

"Oui, mon cher." Instantly her hand was captured against his mouth as he began his familiar journey up her willowy arm.

"Tish, that was French! Say more."

"Je t'aime, mon sauvage."

He groaned with pleasure, making her smile widen. Morticia lived to make him happy. Sometimes it seemed too easy, he asked for so little. For him, she would give everything, and yet all he wanted was her. Her head fell to the side as his lips brushed against the sensitive spot on her neck. Goosebumps pebbled her skin, at the sensation of his warm, hot mouth teasing her flesh. With each kiss, she grew more breathless. Her hands moved up and down his torso, nails scratching into his coat. Then he bit her. Not hard, but enough to make sure she got the message. Her desire consumed her. She wanted to feel him bite into other parts of her body claiming her as his. As if reading her mind, he bit again harder. Moaning, her knees weakened, and she was thankful that his arms were wrapped tightly around her waist.

Without a word, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. Gently, he laid her down on the satin sheets, his hands squeezing at her body as he released her. She laid there, waiting for his next move. Gomez was an adventurous lover, nothing became routine. She was always able to get an idea of what their love-making would entail based on how he approached her. It was as if he would set the entire mood with a single action. Her blue eyes watched him eagerly, awaiting a sign of what lustful game Gomez was going to play with her.

Unbuttoning his coat, he lecherously admired her body. He was being open with his observation of each curve, there was no attempt to hide the growing desire her form created within him. He undid his tie, whipping the fabric from around his neck with force. It made her breath hitch. His lips were on hers, his tongue forcing its way in her mouth. She tried to wrap her arms around him, but he grabbed her wrists and forced them above her head. The strength in his touch made her want him more. She could feel her lower body pulsating with intense need. A scratchy fabric wrapped around her limp wrist, she moaned when she realized it was his recently discarded tie. He made a tight knot, forcing her hands to be pressed against each other. The fabric was pulled in such a way that she could feel it affecting her blood flow.

She assumed he was going to attach her to their headboard, but he surprised her. Just another reason she loved him more with each day. Gomez pulled her to her feet, and guided her across their room. He then attached her bound hands to a hook that stuck out of their wall. She had forgotten it was there, they had only used it a handful of times. Gomez was well aware of existence, and was determined to bring it new life.

There she stood, arms above her head, attached to a hook in the wall by his tie. He eyed her hungrily. The heaving of her breasts was accentuated in her position, and they drew him to her like a moth to flame. He buried his face in her cleavage, enjoying the teasing that comes with experiencing only a limited amount of flesh. Her hips were trapped in his firm grasp, pulling her against his body. The swell of her breasts was adorned with various degrees of nips and sucking. She moaned his name, happy that he aggressively grabbed her ass in response. Morticia wanted more, she wiggled against him desperate to encourage his attention to continue down her body.

Warm hands explored her soft curves, but ignored the places she wanted their touch the most. He was a skilled torturer. The hobby of collecting various historical "objects of persuasion", bled into their love life very well. Gomez knew how to bring her to the brink of ecstasy then deny her release until he got exactly what he wanted.

"Touch me." She begged. He knew what she was asking of him, but he only smiled and pulled away. Morticia was distressed until she saw that he had grabbed a knife from his nightstand. Slowly he approached her, the knife shining in the dim light. The cold flat blade slid from her clavicle down her cleavage. It wasn't until it reached the point of her sweetheart neckline, that Gomez turned it to use the sharp blade. Skillfully he cut open her fitting dress, careful not to scratch her porcelain skin. Finally, she stood before him, her black gown hanging open on each side. Her breasts were free, and reacted to the sudden chill. When he saw that she was not completely naked before him, he cut at the thin straps of fabric clinging to her hips. She opened her legs to let the garment fall to the floor, leaving her exposed to her husband's eyes.

Gomez took in the sight of her while he did away with his shirt. His bare, strong chest sent a new wave of desire coursing through her. The internal heat mixed with the chill of their room made her shiver. Once again, he was pressed against her lips dominating her mouth as his hands claimed her body. Morticia moaned and thrust her breasts against him, rubbing herself against his body. Fingers tickled her flesh, daring to move nearer to her core but still refusing her that pleasure. She could feel that he wanted her just as badly, but he was restraining himself. The torture was not over, the longer it continued the more powerful the resolution. The vision of her restless, panting, naked body drove him wild. He wanted to make her scream for pleasure, to watch as she surrendered to ecstasy at his command.

He pinched her, first at the tips of her gasping breasts, then at the curve of her ass, and finally on her tender inner thighs. Squeaks of pleasure arose from deep in her throat, encouraging him to continue. Lightly, his fingers moved up to her throbbing core. She gasped, all her nerves tensing at his touch. Morticia was hanging by her arms, her body weak against the sensations he was eliciting. Just as she thought, she could take no more, he stopped.

"Gomez!" She cried breathlessly. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her close against him. Her raven hair buried his nose in its locks.

"Gomez, please!" she begged. Teeth sunk into her neck, as he undid his pants. Unstable legs were lifted off the ground and around his hips. The pressure on her arms reduced, as her back hit the hard wall. His name died on her lips as he finally allowed her to fall, lifted in his embrace.