Only with him, only in their bedroom, can she truly cast off the mask of Senator. The mask of duty and restraint she wears so well.
He throws her onto the bed because she wants him like this. Always hard and fast, an urgency not tempered at all by the fact that she has at least a week of nighttimes with him stretching out before her.
As she allows him to take charge, pinning her wrists up above her head with one hand and sliding the other (the one made of a metal alloy) down the pale, smooth expanse of her abdomen to spread her legs, she remembers how surprised her virginal young husband had been by her forthright appetites on their wedding night. He'd loved her, but until they'd lain together for the first time as man and wife, he hadn't truly known her.
She grits out a smile as his cool, hard thumb finds the slick nub at the center of her desire. As he slips an impossibly smooth finger inside of her, she remembers how he'd lasted all of five thrusts that first time.
Yes, she'd had to school him. But he'd proven an enthusiastic if initially cautious student. The slack shock evident in his eyes the first time she'd told him to use his mechanical hand to bring her pleasure had almost caused her to immediately withdraw the demand. The artificial limb had been new and alien to him in a way no other piece of machinery had.
His shocked expression had quickly turned to desire when she'd placed a kiss to the smooth palm of that hand.
He releases her wrists as he lowers his mouth from the slope of her neck, ghosting tenderly between her breasts and down past her stomach, until his lips and tongue replace the unforgiving pressure of his metal thumb. She whines, frustrated at the change in sensation as he withdraws his hand altogether.
But then she'd taught him this too, hadn't she? This torture to stave off the fast release he knows she wants.
She almost weeps with relief when he slides both hands beneath her, lifting her hips as if in offering to himself. To think she'd almost forgotten when he'd first told her how much he loved to taste her, to make her shatter using just his mouth.
She can barely think at all as he devours her, his tongue darting inside of her before lapping at the hard, wet knot of her clit. As her release approaches, she grabs roughly, earnestly at his hair, almost sitting up. And just as she can feel the imminent burn of her climax, he withdraws again, completely this time.
Now she remembers the first time he did this to her, but instead of growing angry, she returns his lopsided grin with one of her own. He moves back up the length of her body and she hitches her legs up over the small of his back to receive him. He thrusts smoothly into her, impossibly hard, impossibly big after his prolonged absence.
She lifts her head, her mouth capturing his, and she remembers the first time he kissed her, and the first time she kissed him like this.
'You think too much,' he tells her, surging above her. They are the words she's been waiting to hear him say.
She comes undone beneath him.