Jean Beazley never cared for swearing.
Lucien realized this early on in their relationship. She was used to him spewing out the more-than-occasional 'bloody hell', yet every time the words left his lips near her, he knew she disapproved. Whether it was through the subtle scowl on her face, the crossing of her arms, or the clear admonishment of, "Lucien!" he felt her reprimand. He tried not to curse in excess because he knew she did not appreciate it. She once stated simply, as they walked hand-in-hand down the streets of Melbourne, that there were more dignified words to express your shock or anger.
There was one exception to this, he was happy to learn. Jean - or Mrs. Blake - had her leniencies.
After a quiet dinner together, they retired to their bedroom. They opted for the first time that year, since weather permitted, to have a fire. Lucien idly tossed the scotch in his glass. Jean was curled up against him, indulging in a late night sherry. She finished the last sip, enjoying the soothing tingles a drink brought about. Having her husband at her side, coupled with the warmth of the fire made Jean bold. She sprung from beside him, set her empty glass on the table, and straddled his lap. She took his drink out of his hand, and set it next to hers, before he could process what was happening.
The glisten in her eye and her determined grin quickened his heart beat. The flutter in her stomach threatened to burst as his darkened eyes took her in.
"You know, I was drinking that," he feigned annoyance.
A soft kiss to his lips was her apology, and she pulled back to see if he accepted it. "Hmm," she exhaled a light laugh and her lips were back on his. "Forgive me?"
He smoothed his hands up her sides, gripped her waist, then tugged the sash of her robe. Jean felt the material loosen and fall off her shoulders, and the exposure caused goosebumps that made her shiver. Much to Lucien's delight, her nipples hardened through her remaining translucent negligee.
Her fingernails scraped against his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt down to his pyjama drawstring, and peeled it off his arms. She grasped his length through silky trousers before reaching under his waistband and gripping him, greedily, stroking him slowly. She placed wet kisses across his chest and neck, until her cheek nuzzled his beard. "Forgive me…"
"Of course," he grunted.
His hands cupped her jaw. He crashed his lips to hers and combed his fingers through her hair, down her shoulders until his fingers found her negligee tickling at her thighs. His warm hands found the skin of her lower back, smoothing higher and higher until the garment was over her shoulders. He tossed it behind her.
His jaw dropped. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. Jean's hips shifted on top of him, grinding back and forth; her wetness soaked his silk pyjamas with each movement. He grabbed her behind, stilling her against him. Jean reached behind her, tugging the fabric at his knees, inching his trousers down to join her negligee. Her back arched from her efforts, and her chest met Lucien's eyeline.
Feeling his cock spring further, he muttered, "fuck…"
He heard her quick intake of breath and saw her eyes shut tightly.
"Oh, Jeannie - I - "
She pressed her fingers to his mouth before he could apologize. She lifted herself up and teased the head of his cock between her lips. As she gradually lowered down on him, he groaned. Loudly.
"Say it again, Lucien."
It took him a second to process her command because everything felt so good; but when he filled her, he released the lewd word in short pants, "fuck, fuck, fuck."
His head fell backwards, and with each curse, she sank her teeth into his neck. Jean exhaled shakily as he thrusted into her, his hands still anchored at her behind, gripping firmly as they established a rhythm. She tugged his hair, bringing his lips to hers to kiss him roughly. He bit her bottom lip and pumped up into her faster.
"Oh, yes. Lucien.."
He moaned through laboured breath, but gradually, they slowed down; his hands spread on her thighs.
They savoured each movement of her hips rocking with him.
He teased his fingers by her clit, making her whimper. He finally assuaged her pleas when she flexed around him.
"Jean. You feel so fucking good," he growled each syllable.
That did it for her. She contracted around him, losing control as she shook. Her forehead fell into the crook of his shoulder. With one more push into her, he released a raw groan and his warmth into her.
They recovered at the same time. Lucien smoothed up her sides, to palm her breasts in his hands. He could feel her heart pounding.
"Wow," he managed.
"Hmmm," she agreed and whispered, "kiss me."
Their kiss was unrushed and gentle and lasted until Jean slipped off of him. She curled herself in his lap, her feet resting on the middle cushion.
"My darling?" Lucien began.
"Only in the confines of these walls," she answered firmly.
He brought her knuckles to his lips. "How about in our bathroom?" Then he stood up, bringing her with him in his arms. Laughter bounced off their bedroom walls.
'
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