A/N: M-rating

Chapter Nineteen

Harry wasn't sure what was going on. Ruth had asked him to come over on Friday after work. Tom had opened the door for him, locked it, and disappeared into the shadows of his security office. That was quite odd. Harry was used to Marta, the housekeeper, being the one to open the door. And when he came over to Ruth's when they did not have plans to go out, the house usually smelled of something wonderful that Marta was making them for dinner. No such smells tonight.

"Ruth?" Harry called out.

"I'll be just a minute," she shouted back. She was upstairs, probably in her bedroom. "Have a seat on the sofa."

He did as he was told. And, for good measure, he went over to the bar cart and poured them each a drink before he took his seat on the sofa. He waited for Fidget to come join him, as the cat had been used to him before and would often wind around his ankles and hope up on his lap for a scratch behind the ears. But Fidget did not seem to be around. Perhaps he was upstairs with Ruth.

It was odd, sitting in her house, waiting for her like this. He thought it would be rude to turn on the television, so he just sat there with his drink. His eyes wandered the room. It was decorated very nicely. He wondered if Ruth did it herself or if some royal designer of sorts had been brought in to furnish her house. The pictures on the walls were rather generic, just pretty oil paintings of landscapes and artistic photographs of flowers in black and white. There were books almost everywhere. The shelves and tables and nooks and crannies of the room were all stuffed with books of all kinds. Many of them were in other languages; Harry knew she was fluent in about a dozen. Well, he actually did not know how many she was fluent in at all, but they'd yet to come across one in the course of their work that she could not translate into or out of with ease.

He smiled, taking another sip of his drink. She really was brilliant. Her mind was organized in a way that her life did not seem to be. She was always flustered and stuttering when her words were slower than her thoughts. She got herself worked up quite easily, too. But there was nothing she didn't know, nothing she could not find. She knew the answer to every question he asked, often before he asked it. He had never, in all his years, had a better right hand at work than Ruth. And, of course, that was probably one of the reasons he'd fallen in love with her. She was so lovely and so smart and so utterly unconcerned by artifice. She did her job immensely well. She carried out her royal duties with grace and honor. And the fact that she was so bloody good at everything did not give her an ounce of ego. She was even-tempered and good-humored. And now she got along with his children as well. Christ, he loved her more than he could possibly ever express. Being back with her now after their misstep was nothing short of heaven.

"Hello, Harry."

Ruth had finally come downstairs to join him. She walked toward him out of the shadowy foyer and into the light of the sitting room and Harry felt his jaw drop and his heart nearly stop.

She was wearing the burgundy dress.

Oh god, that dress had been the fuel for nearly every single one of his sexual fantasies for weeks, ever since she'd first worn it when they went out to the ballet. And really, she had no business wearing it out in public. The deep red satin covered her arms and shoulders and reached down to the floor, but it was cut so low in the front, it reached halfway to her navel, and the slit up the side exposed almost her entire leg. That creamy skin of hers that he was so in love with, it was a feast for the eyes, particularly when so much else of her was covered.

He stared at her in awe, the way the full skirt moved around her legs, the way the soft flesh of her thigh peeked through when she walked, the way her chest was turning slightly pink along with her cheeks as she blushed. The way he was looking at her was probably less than gentlemanly, but he was having significantly less than gentlemanly thoughts about her.

"You mentioned once, a while back, that you had some plans for the next time I wore this dress. I thought that might be a nice way to spend the evening," she said.

She sounded slightly nervous, so he ripped his eyes away from her cleavage to look at her face. Her hair was curled and falling in waves around her shoulders. She'd put makeup on around her eyes and her lipstick was the precise color of the dress. He'd never seen her wear lipstick that color before. It was almost a little strange to see on Ruth, but of course she looked beautiful. And she was nervously biting her bottom lip and rubbing that lipstick off in the process. Harry forced himself to swallow and reached a hand toward her. "Come here," he requested.

Ruth joined him willingly, choosing to splay the skirt out around him and climb onto his lap. Their drinks lay forgotten on the table. Her bare knees rested on either side of his hips and she draped her arms loosely over his shoulders. And now she was smiling.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Harry told her. "And I cannot believe you remembered what I said about this dress, that was very sweet, and I love you very much."

Her smile grew at that. "I love you, too. And I thought we might have a bit of fun."

"I always have fun with you, Ruth, but this is wonderful."

After that, Harry saw no more need to talk. He put a hand on her cheek gently and leaned in to kiss her. Oh that lipstick was going to get all over his face, but what did he care? Might be sort of fun. The rest of this certainly would be.

Their mouths and tongues explored each other in a happy, unhurried fashion. One of Harry's hands tangled in the soft curls of her hair while the other kneaded her breast over the dress. It wasn't long before he slipped it inside the dress and was amazed to find it bare beneath the satin. The thought flitted in his mind to ask what on earth he had ever done to deserve her.

Ruth, meanwhile, kissed him deeply and began rocking and grinding on his lap. Harry had not been prepared for such delights; he was still wearing his uniform from work, and those trousers were getting extremely tight.

As if reading his mind, Ruth reached down and unbuckled his belt. She fumbled and pulled away from his kiss so she could see what he was doing. Harry took the opportunity to let his hands find their way under that voluminous skirt, using the opening provided by that slit. Her legs were bare under his hands. He rubbed her thighs and kissed her neck while she undid his trousers and reached inside to free his erection. At her touch, he groaned against her skin. Ruth laughed lightly at his reaction.

Then, another surprise. Harry's hands moved higher up on her and found that she wasn't wearing any knickers. She grinned proudly as he gaped at her in shock. Ruth wasted no time settling herself on him so her wet folds slid up against his hard cock. He could hardly stand it, whimpering as she teased him.

With an impatient growl, Harry grabbed her by the bum and lifted her up and thrust himself inside. Ruth gasped at the suddenness of it, but after a moment's adjustment, she leaned in and began to move on top of him. Her head was thrown back as she rode him. His mouth trailed down to her chest, and he nipped at the exposed sides of her breasts. She gasped his name, riding him faster and harder. Harry's fingers dug into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, but it was all so much. The burgundy satin, Ruth riding him on the sofa, the sounds she made. He tried to hold back but couldn't. When he came, he called out her name. Ruth followed him over the edge just after and collapsed against him.

She twitched with her aftershocks as they both breathed heavily. Harry took his hands out from under the dress to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close. "Christ, that was incredible," he whispered.

Ruth hummed happily in response. She turned her head and kissed the side of his neck. "Wonderful," she agreed.

They stayed there for a little while, wrapped up in each other, Harry going soft inside her, all the wetness from their coupling getting all over his trousers. He was uncomfortably sweaty inside his uniform. This would not be something he'd want to explain to Malcolm when he did the cleaning, but he didn't care right now. He just wanted to hold her as long as he could before they had to make a move.

And then the thought occurred to him. "Ruth," he began.

"Hmm?" she answered sleepily.

"Marry me."