Calvin Stark
He was home.
I didn't know how I knew this, I just did. It woke me up out of a sound slumber, his pulse nearby, his presence, clear and strong as if my ear was over his heart, where it usually was this deep in the night. I couldn't feel the weight of his body sagging the mattress next to me, couldn't hear his steady breathing, couldn't see the outline of his chin against the warm red glow of the digital clock on our nightstand.
But he was here. In our house.
I needed to find him.
I slipped out from under the silken sheets of our bed and groped around for his shirt I had draped over the mahogany footboard. The shirt was one of his sleeveless wife beaters, faded black and smelling like both of us, his man musk and my herbal shampoo, the one he preferred that made him bury his nose behind my ear and sigh in appreciation.
It pleased me, to please him in those simple ways. He asked for so little, compared to what he gave me.
I settled his shirt over my naked body, the collar brushing the tops of my breasts, the hem swaying against the tops of my thighs as I padded quietly out of our carpeted bedroom and down the hallway, the polished hardwood cooling my bare feet. I leaned over the banister to peer down into the living room.
He was there, sitting in the glider rocker, one boot propped on the matching leather foot stand, the other flat on the floor, his legs spread wide.
Waiting for me.
He didn't look up, just continued sipping his drink, the dark cloaking the expression on his face.
He knew I was there.
I shivered suddenly, overcome by the need for his solid warmth. Something wasn't right, and it made anxiety bubble in my chest.
I floated down the stairs, my hand trailing beside me on the railing, and crept up behind him.
"Hi, baby," I whispered in his ear, leaning to wrap my arms around his shoulders.
He bowed his head. "Hi, sweetheart," he murmured against the skin of my wrist, kissing me lightly. "Didja miss me?" he asked, his lips ghosting over the smoothness of my inner arm.
"Mmhmm, you know I always miss you," I answered, nuzzling the side of his face, his end of the day scruff rough against my cheek. "Did you miss me?" I teased, continuing our endless game.
"Mmhmm, always."
His voice was low and hoarse, and I was already squeezing my thighs together in desire. Nevermind the way his hand stroked my arm, the way his tongue darted out to taste the crook of my elbow, it was his voice that started those flames that licked my core, that tightened my lower belly. He spoke, and I melted, and it had only gotten stronger since the night we first met. He worked with me, night after night, honing my obedience, stoking that flame, until I could tell what he wanted by the way he looked at me or tilted his head.
My obedience was rewarded, tenfold. I knew it was his way of ensuring my safety.
We lived in a dangerous world, and it wasn't the goddamn natural disaster on our doorstep that caused him most concern.
He would tell me, when he was ready. First, I must tend to him. We had time. If we didn't, he would have told me.
"Have you eaten? I fixed you a plate from dinner, it'll only take me a minute to heat it."
"Mmhmm. I ate at break time. Probably shouldn't of, things are gettin' real crazy, but I figured," he shrugged, setting his tumbler down on the glass table next to him, "what the fuck difference would it make at this point."
"I know, I agree. I finally had to shut the news off, it was getting kinda scary-"
"I'm here now, baby girl," he interrupted, clasping both of my hands in his and dragging them down his chest so he could reach my neck with his mouth. "You ain't gotta be afraid, right? Not with me around."
"No, I'm not afraid anymore," I said softly, my eyes drifting shut as he nibbled at the spot under my ear.
"Good girl, that's what I like to hear," he breathed.
"Yes...papi," I grinned, wrinkling my nose, my Spanish inflection heavy. Por el amor de Dios, I hated that daddy shit, but I knew he needed it. He responded as I expected, his chest rumbling beneath my hands, his erection straining the front of his dark jeans.
"It sounds like you had a hectic night, Detective Stark. Would you like me to run you a nice, hot bath?" I asked my husband, straightening to work the knots out of his shoulder muscles.
He groaned and let his chin dip to his chest, and I smiled as his eyes fluttered closed. I also knew the power I wielded over him, how my touch soothed him, or set him on fire. It was a heady feeling, bringing this vibrant, virile, dangerous man to my submission. I didn't do it often, though, just enough to remind him that I could.
I had no interest in taming him. Everything he did for me was because he loved me, and I realized that the moment he keened in agony over the death of our only baby.
My love for him became absolute.
"Not tonight, mi amor," he replied in his rough, unblemished Spanish.
"Then what can I do for you, Cal?"
He picked up my left hand and raised my palm to his mouth, opening to suck on my wedding band. Our wedding band, the band of gold neither one of us ever removed, except when we did this to each other. I shuddered. It was crazy arousing, when we did this to each other, and I swayed on my feet as he thoroughly wet my ring with his spit then drew my finger into his mouth, making obscene slurping noises.
I cursed under my breath in Spanish, and felt him chuckling, the vibration of his warm, wet mouth tingling up my arm to my breasts, making my nipples harden.
He sucked, gently at first, then harder, as my ring began to slide up my finger. I fought to keep my knees from buckling. Once it was loose enough, he bit the pliant metal between his molars and tugged, moving my hand out of his mouth with his hand, leaving my ring behind. He poked it with his tongue, and I watched, mesmerized, as he worked it across the pocket of his cheek. He closed his lips, savoring his prize, and I whimpered.
He looked like he was ignoring me. I knew better. He was attuned to my every movement, every sound, every breath.
He reached into his mouth with two of his fingers and pulled my ring out off his tongue, a string of his saliva stretching, then breaking, to run down his thumb.
My own wetness trickled down the inside of my thighs. I was dripping for him.
He reached out his arm and let my ring roll off his fingers onto the end table. It bounced off his tumbler and tinkled to rest on the glass surface.
"Why don't you start by putting that back on for me, Julia?"
"Yes, papi," I purred, and he opened his arms for me, accepting my bare ass in his lap. I could finally look at him, look in his eyes, and although he was trying to conceal his unrest from me, I felt better, being surrounded by all that blue. His hands rested on my waist, his fingers easing under his shirt I was wearing, and I cupped his face with my hands, my thumb gently rubbing across his bottom lip, over and over.
"What?" He smiled down at me.
"This," I said, pulling his mouth to mine and kissing him hungrily. He snorted through his nose and ground his lips against mine, opening wide to tangle his tongue with mine.
"Shit yes," he moaned as we both came up for air at the same time. "You have no idea how much I missed you today," he muttered, sucking my bottom lip.
I pushed his hand between my legs and he smirked, his fingertips skating across my wetness. "I have some idea."
"Mmhmm. Exactly the way I like you, wet and wanting for me. Now be a good girl and put my ring back on that pretty little finger, hmm?" he hummed, and I complied, wetting the gold band in my own mouth before settling our promise back into it's place on my hand that matched his, closest to our hearts.
"That's right," he told me, watching over my shoulder, nodding in satisfaction. "You gonna let your daddy make ya feel good, huh baby girl?" he lilted into my ear, his fingers doing magical things inside me. I sank against his chest, my legs falling open for him. It was here I felt safest, felt most loved, cradled against his solid, soft, warm chest, his bristly chin resting on the top of my head.
I whined, my body singing and gone sensitive, and the barrier of our clothes made me irrationally angry. I sat up enough to rip his shirt off from over my head, and scrabbled at his short sleeved over shirt, then tugged his own sleeveless shirt off. He licked his lips as my breasts bounced free, and he hissed as my nails scraped the back of his neck in my impatience. But he kept working me, his patience unphased, as I played free reign with his body. I writhed my back against his front, reveling in the friction of his wiry chest hair, ground my ass into his hardness, sucked on one of his long fingers after the other then spread them over my aching breast.
"This what you want?" he growled between clenched teeth as he palmed my breasts and pulled roughly at my nipples, going from one to the other. I could tell his lust was getting the better of him through my own lust induced frenzy. His hips tensed up, jabbing his belt buckle into the base of my spine, and his free hand wandered up from my breasts to tangle in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat.
I moaned, his most important rule forgotten. He reminded me sharply, biting where my shoulder met my neck. "Answer me, Julia."
"Yes, you're what I want!" I gasped, wrapping my fingers around both his wrists.
"Good girl, always my good girl," he reassured me with tender kisses, taking away the pain of his teeth digging into my flesh. "Lemme see you play with those beautiful titties, sweetheart, while I make you come all over my hand," he sang into my ear, and I would've gladly thrown myself from a cliff if that's what he asked me to do.
"Yes, yes...please," I panted, unashamed by my wantonness, because I knew he loved it. His breathing was harsh in my ear, or maybe it was my own, I couldn't tell where I ended and he began anymore, and I didn't care. All I cared about was easing this precious ache building inside of me, pulled out of me by his fingers, his mouth that whispered the things he knew I wanted to hear, sometimes sweet, sometimes dirty. I cried his name and arched my back and squeezed my eyes shut as I fell apart in his arms, and he gave me his safe place to come back together, crooning to me gently.
"Shh, I got you, wife, I got you. Breathe, baby, breathe…"