Jean took in the sight of her husband: covered in dirt head-to-toe and wearing a sheepish grin. "Lucien, what on earth have you gotten yourself into? It looks like you've just rolled down a hill."
Lucien brushed off a bit of dirt from his button-up, nodding. "Yes, actually, I have! You see, Lawson thought it was impossible the body could have fallen from such a height without more damage. I disagreed, of course, and then Lawson told me to prove it, so..." He gestured to himself proudly. "I did!"
Jean stared at him, disbelieving, and Lucien's grin faltered. "Right then, I'll just go clean up."
He moved towards the backdoor but Jean stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Absolutely not. You are not tracking dirt and mud through the house, Lucien. You can strip out here and I'll bring you a change of clothes. Don't move."
Lucien watched Jean enter the house, his brain still stuttering over her command for him to strip in the middle of the sunroom. Since they married a few months ago, Lucien had the absolute pleasure of watching Jean's self-confidence blossom.
While Jean fetched him a set of clothes, Lucien set to work unrobing. His fingers made quick work of the button down and he shrugged it off, the hot air of the day hitting his exposed back. He rolled his neck and shoulders, bundled his shirt into a ball and tossed it aside, and set to work on his trousers.
Jean, meanwhile, stood at the backdoor, watching her husband strip. She had always found him attractive, but the knowledge that he was undoubtedly and forever hers had skyrocketed her feelings. She watched appreciatively as the expanse of his bare back was exposed to her.
Her heart still clenched at the sight of the many, many scars criss-crossing his shoulders and back and her fingers twitched with the urge to smooth over long-healed hurts.
Leaning against the doorjamb, she watched as Lucien's hands deftly worked at the buckle of his belt and smoothly pulled the leather out from his waist.
She felt as though she had lingered long enough and came back outside, placing the freshly folded shirt and trousers on the patio chair besides the backdoor.
As she turned around to chastise him for taking so long in such a simple task, Lucien was there in front of her, already wrapping her up in his arms, and slanting his mouth over hers. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed up into the kiss.
She felt him pulling away, but she suddenly felt herself overcome with desire for her husband. His sweat-slicked felt feverishly warm against her and she didn't want him to go too far. Jean tugged at the curling locks of hair at the base of his neck and grinned against his mouth when Lucien groaned and renewed his kissing efforts.
Finally breaking away, breathless, Jean fell back onto the balls of her feet and ran a loving hand through his hair. A sense of womanly proud overcame her as she saw Lucien's eyes still closed, his tongue running over his lips as if to capture the taste of her a little longer.
Jean bit her lip, thinking back to a conversation she recently overheard in her Women's Film Society group. The younger women of the group had spent the last twenty minutes of the meeting discussing newfound pleasures in the marital bed and how to bring the most pleasure to her husband.
As a woman long-past the days of giggling and blushing at the thought of being with a man, Jean nonetheless listened in and instead of finding herself shocked, finding herself intrigued.
Lucien had certainly brought her pleasure over and over again in bed. And while he had never been left wanting, there was a part of Jean that wanted to push their relationship, to bring him as much pleasure as he brought her.
With a deep breath, Jean thought now or never.
She kissed the smooth skin of his chest, her tongue laving over his nipple and smiling at Lucien's hiss of pleasure. His hands settled at her waist and drew her closer, urging her back up to his mouth. But Jean had other plans.
She reached a hand out and palmed his hardness through the thin slacks. Lucien sucked in a harsh breath and groaned out her name. The girls of the Film Society were right, this was intoxicating. And she hadn't even gotten started yet.
"I think, Dr. Blake," she broke off to press a kiss to his sternum. "I told you to strip." She unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped the fly, pushing the pants and his undergarments down his legs. Lucien let out a strangled cry as Jean began lowering herself to her knees, kissing her way from his sternum then down his stomach (stopping to press a kiss to the jut of each hip bone).
Lucien's brain felt fuzzy and there was a ringing in his ears. Jean was kneeling before him, his trousers around his ankles, and the love of his life was looking up at him, coy, uncertain, and brazen. She was constantly surprising him.
"Jean, you don't have to-that is, I don't need-"
Jean's hands came to rest on his upper thighs, her nails scratching at the skin she found there. "I know I don't have to Lucien. I want to. I want to make you feel good. Please let me."
Lucien swallowed, mouth dry, and nodded.
Tentatively, Jean reached out and wrapped a hand around his erection. She had done as much before, enjoying the feel of him in her hand. Lucien groaned at the contact and then sighed as she slowly tightened her grip around him, stroking him up and down. With each upward stroke, she twisted her hand a little and Lucien's knees buckled slightly.
Moisture beaded at the top of his cock and Jean swiped a finger through it curiously, spreading it over his hardness and then experimentally bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking slightly. It was tangy and salty, not unlike the taste of kissing Lucien after he had put his mouth on her.
She leaned forward and tentatively licked him, the broad plane of her tongue sweeping over his length. Lucien whimpered and his hands threaded through her hair, not pulling or tugging her close, just holding her there. She did the same thing when he set to work between her legs and the knowledge that he was reacting to her touch the same way she reacted to his emboldened her, made her knew she was on the right path.
After a few tentative licks, she grew bolder and drew him into her mouth. Lucien jumped a little and his hold on her tightened, another guttural moan escaping him at her touch.
"Jean, Christ, please.."
She enjoyed the weight of him in her mouth and experimentally bobbed a few times, her tongue still roaming over the skin. She found a rhythm and as she worked him over with her mouth, one hand held onto his thigh while the other wrapped around the base of his cock where her mouth couldn't quite get to.
Lucien's hips jerked and he began to shallowly thrust into her mouth in time with her licks and sucks. Her name was a constant from his lips and the knowledge that she had reduced him to nothing but her thrusts and her name made Jean feel like the most powerful woman in Ballarat.
"Jean, love, I need to-I'm going to-"
He pulled her off of him, his cock leaving her mouth with a pop of lost suction, and Lucien shuddered. He pulled her up and flipped her around, pushing aside her skirt and undergarments and slid into her.
Jean found herself surprised by how wet and ready she was for him. Eagerly, she thrust back, drawing him deeper within her. Lucien stood behind her, rocking in and out of her. He hunched over and palmed her breasts through her blouse, turning his head and biting at the skin of her neck.
His breath was harsh in her ear and Jean felt a thrill at the quickness, the dirtiness of their lovemaking.
"Jean, I'm sorry, I have to-You feel so good."
He sounded pained and Jean reached behind her to stroke his hair. "This is for you, Lucien. It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay."
With one, two, three more thrusts, Lucien came with a cry, spilling into her. Jean felt his warmth fill her and although she herself didn't feel the absolute pleasure that he did, she felt undeniably proud that she could do this to him. Jean Blake had the power to reduce her husband to his baser instincts, to feel as overwhelmed as she did when his mouth was on hers.
Disentangling herself from his embrace, she leaned back down and pressed a kiss to each of his knees, encouraging him to step out of his trousers. Lucien watched her slack-jawed, his eyes still glazed over in the aftermath of their lovemaking and the turn of events the afternoon held.
Gathering the rest of his balled up clothing, Jean stood and kissed him. "Unless you want to stand out here naked, I suggest we go inside and get cleaned up."
Lucien watched as his wife sashayed back into the house and felt, not for the first time since he married Jean, how unbelievably lucky he was to have her as his wife. And, as an afterthought, he promised himself to come home dirty more often.