Want to Want Me: Patrick and Sam

The Drakes want it bad. (title from Jason Derulo)

I look down at my phone again as I climb into my car. I'd called Sam during some down time during my afternoon rounds. She told me that the kids were having a sleepover with Molly, and that it'd be the perfect night for us to go out on a date. I was excited to treat my wife to a nice dinner.

But then, work happened, and I was kept almost two hours later than I intended and Sam had yet to respond to my apology text. I hate to have to disappoint her, but hopefully I can make amends in some way. I try calling Sam again at a red light. No answer.

The drive home seems longer tonight, and I'm so relieved when I finally pull into the driveway.

I practically run to the door. Even though I'm sure Sam would understand, I still feel bad about bailing out on our plans when we have so few opportunities to go out as it is, what with our children and combined work schedules.

I jog up the couple of steps to their front door, keys in hand. I don't even get the chance to unlock it before it opens without my assistance. The apology I'd prepared dies on my lips as my wife opens the door. Literally wearing nothing. Except the shit-eating grin at my open-mouthed, wide-eyed response.

"M—m—ha—wha—?" I stutter. I'm reminded of the time soon after our first kiss and she'd opened the door wearing just a towel. It was obvious that she'd just jumped out of the shower, the water still dripping from her hair and skin.

But this was so much…better.

"Surprise," she said in that low voice that told me exactly what I was in for. Still, I can't seem to form actual words.

"Now, unless you want me to show the neighbors the other surprise I have for you, I suggest you take me inside, doctor."

Shit. It hadn't even occurred to me that she was out in the open—though I doubted there were many people still up at this hour—for anyone to see.

It also never occurred to me that the image of her in all her delicious, naked glory where anyone passing by or glancing out their windows could see her was such a turn-on. And if I wasn't instantly hard looking at her like this, I don't think I would mind her parading that fucking gorgeous body and making everyone with sight jealous.

"You want me to take you?" Fuck, am I growling? If I am, it has an immediate reaction; the sharp inhale lifts her chest and her almost brown nipples look even harder.

"Please," she whimpers back.

"Where?"

"Any-fucking-where. Everywhere. Right here, the car, the kitchen table, the shower. Do whatever you want with me, Dr. Drake."

She didn't mention our bed so I'm guessing she isn't looking to make love. She wants to fuck. I am not a man that needs to be told twice. But I'm pretty sure what I want to do to her is illegal to do outside, so her back against the inside of the front door it is.

I get us there so fast, Sam barely even have time to move her feet. But she doesn't mind; she pretty much jumps to get her arms around my neck and legs around my waist, kissing the hell out of me. I happen to know for a fact that this is one of her favorite things, wrapping herself around me and being able to control me face to face. But the attack was so sudden I didn't have time to fix one problem.

"Great as this is," I tell her, pulling away from her lips, "I can't do too much fully dressed."

Sam giggles—like, actually giggles and it's fucking adorably goofy and breathless and I need these clothes off now. "Sorry," she said before pecking my mouth and jumping down.

Before I can say or do anything else, she's kneeling and unbuckling my belt. She looks up at me and smirks. "Take your shirt off," she orders. But I'm too mesmerized at the sight before me. She's undone my button and zipper now, but stops when I don't comply.

Our eye contact is steady as she palms me through my pants, then squeezes—not unpleasantly.

"I meant, now."

A few of the buttons of my dress shirt are popped off in my haste to please her. She waits until my torso is completely bare before she continues to bull my pants and briefs down until they get caught at my shoes, which I help get rid of. Once my socks are off, we're on even playing field. She doesn't touch me—which might be for the best because I might literally explode if she does.

Sam stands up slowly, looking at me with those sultry whiskey eyes.

"What do you want?" she asks, granting me full permission. Anywhere, anyhow. The possibilities are endless, but I need something immediate.

"You. Right here."

She takes another leap, and this time I lift her high enough to be eye level with her breasts. Sam watches me intensely as I bring my mouth to one nipple and then the other. I bite down kind of hard and she moans as her body jerks.

"Oh…Patrick," she breathes.

She needs it as bad as I do. I lower her some and she reaches under herself to take hold of my hard dick. I breathe in sharply as she aligns us. Before we take that first plunge she looks at me.

All the seductiveness is gone from her face, replaced with something gentler. She kisses me softly.

"I love you."

"I love you."

And as if the tender moment didn't happen, that devilish smirk of hers is back and she lowers herself onto me.

A chorus of moaning fills the otherwise empty house.

We don't even move the one foot to the door; I'm just standing in the middle of the room with the most beautiful, the most amazing person I'm lucky enough to get to call my wife bouncing against me, riding my dick and biting my shoulder like I'm her lifeline.

Like she's mine.