They're still in the height of their honeymoon phase when it happens for the first time. Everything is still so new, so liberating. They are still reveling in the fact that they don't need to halt their kisses or drop their hands or avert their eyes.
She starts it, that night. It's just the two of them at home and dinner is a soft, quiet affair. It's intimate and Lucien insists on lighting candles for the sake of it. Jean loves him all the more for it; but she doesn't want romance tonight. He's been busy with a case and she hasn't seen much of him in the last few days.
For days she hasn't been able to fall asleep with him, press lingering kisses to his mouth, or touch him whenever she likes.
She intends to punish him for it.
It starts with a gentle squeeze of his knee beneath the table, her hand trailing up the inseam of his trousers and coming tantalizingly close to his groin before trailing back down his thigh.
Lucien freezes, his knife and fork dangling uselessly from his fingertips. Jean just smiles, wrapping her lips around her fork and devouring the roast chicken on her plate, nonchalant.
Next, she drags her foot up his calf, bare toes wiggling against warm skin, enjoying the feel of his coarse leg hair rubbing against her foot. From the corner of her eye, she sees Lucien go still before shuddering.
"Jean," he growls. She's playing a dangerous game, baiting him like a circus performer may try to tame a lion.
Before she can plan her next teasing move (she was considering a foray into licking her fork a little too enthusiastically), Lucien pounces on her. Pushing himself back from the table and simultaneously pulling Jean out of her chair, he sweeps her into his arms, mouth fitting over hers like it was made to do just that.
She sighs in triumph, Finally.
Wrapping her arms around him, she pulls herself closer to him, pressing her breasts to his chest, desperate for him already. His hands are hot and heavy everywhere on her body, roaming over her neck and back and hips before settling under her bottom, squeezing.
Jean moans at the touch, threading her hands through his hair and tugging, forcing him to break their kiss. She wants to taste the salty skin of his neck. On their wedding night, she had found that a well-placed nip of Lucien's neck had him bucking into her. Since then, it had been a favorite spot of hers.
As she set to work on his neck, her teeth nipping and her tongue laving over each bite, Lucien slipped his hands under her thighs and hauled her up against him. Jean squealed at suddenly being airborne but at his encouragement, she wrapped her legs around his waist.
"I didn't know my wife was such a tease." His voice is husky and hoarse with desire. She smiled mischievously at him, "I didn't know my husband would leave me untouched when a good case came along. Now," she said, biting down gently on the flesh of his ear, marveling at the ease in which he held her aloft. "Make love to me."
She expected him to start the staggering walk back to their bedroom, expected him to throw her down onto the mattress and press into her until they were both groaning the other's name.
Instead, he stumbled forward, resting her against the kitchen countertop. Her legs fell open, allowing him to stand between them and continue kissing. His hands roamed up her bare legs, pushing her skirt up around her waist.
The feel of being boxed in by him was intoxicating: everything was Lucien in that moment. His clever fingers tugged her panties down before reaching back up to slide through her wet folds, hissing at the heat and slickness he found there.
He groaned and ducked his head, intending to lick her into a frenzy, wanting to taste her on his tongue and have her shatter around his fingers. But Jean was tugging on his shoulders, pulling him back up to her, gasping, "Later. Need you now, please," into his mouth.
He groaned, "Yes, love. Anything you want."
Lucien's teeth buried themselves into the flesh of her shoulder, his hands palming her breasts and stroking her nipples through the thin material of her blouse. They were desperate for one another and there was plenty of time to lay her out bare before him and lick every inch of her skin, but for now, he wanted to take his wife hard and fast, just as she asked.
Her hands flew to his waistband, hastily unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers down, desperate to feel the hard length of him in her hand, inside of her.
Lucien stepped back from her, slipping out of his trousers and Jean keened at the loss. "Too far away." She reached for him, hand wrapping around his now freed erection. He groaned, his head falling forward onto her shoulder, hands at her hips.
"I love it when you touch me, Jean."
She stroked his flesh, hand twisting with each upward stroke. Their heavy breaths filled the room and Lucien set to work pressing kisses to every exposed inch of skin he could find while she touched him. Being touched by Jean was an experience he would never take for granted, but he was dangerously close to ending this before it got started.
He grasped her wrist and stopped her movements, breathing harshly. "If you keep that up, I'm not going to be able to make love to you, wife."
Jean smiled at him, loving the way wife dripped from his lips as easily as Jean and love. Wrapping her arms around his neck, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, she pulled him closer, cradling her between her thighs closely. "Then you better hurry up, husband."
Lucien slid his hands beneath her lifting her up slightly and lined them up, the blunt head of his cock nudging at her entrance. Jean was impossibly wet and the knowledge that he brought such desire to her heightened his own pleasure. With a thrust, he slid into her, settling her against the counter as he thrust in and out of her, groaning at the way her body wrapped around him, encasing him in heat and tightness.
Jean wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging each thrust to go deeper and harder. She needed him closer, as close as he could get. The juxtaposition between the cold countertop and Lucien's hot skin made each stroke of pleasure all the more intoxicating.
For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of their bodies sliding and slapping against one another, the gentle clacking of the cupboards and drawers rattling with their thrusts, and Jean and Lucien panting the other's name and Yes yes yes over and over again.
Jean came first, the pleasure building to an unbearable climax as Lucien's hands found their way between their bodies, stroking at her bundle of nerves with each stroke. As she climaxed, her body tightened around him and her fingers tugged at his hair and that was enough to tip him over into the abyss of pleasure, spilling himself inside of her with a groan.
Catching their breath, Lucien–still inside of her–picked Jean up and carried her to the kitchen chair, sitting down with her in his lap, burying his face in her chest. Jean's hands stroked over his hair, savoring the feel of him softening inside of her.
"Jean?"
She murmured sleepily against him. "Yes?"
"Feel free to tease me anytime you like, love."
Jean laughed, pinching his ear. "Make sure you pay attention to your wife–no matter how interesting the case–and perhaps you won't have to drive me to tease you."
Lucien grinned, sheepishly, pressing an apologetic kiss to the underside of her jaw. "Quite right. I am sorry."
She snuggled against him, knowing that they'd need to get up at some point soon. They needed to clean up–themselves and the kitchen. And she was fairly sure she'd never be able to look at that corner of the countertop the same way ever again, but perhaps, that could be their little corner. After all, she thought. You never know when you might need another desperate shag.
