Ye Olde Author's Note: Ah. Well. Welcome to the third (and final) part of 'Awakening' (it follows 'Unleashed' and 'Untamed', though it can be read as a standalone)
As ever, lawand_disorder heroically threw herself in front of this to beta read, so if you haven't checked out her stuff . . . why not?
I hope you enjoy this; it's been a fun thing to write, the deepening trust and intimacy between our favorite couple, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I had fun writing it.
And as always, please comment if you feel so inclined; I really do love to hear from you guys!
Oh, and . . . this is seriously rated 'M', folks. Possibly 'M' cubed.
Untouched
Sam Radford came through his front door in much the same manner as a conquering Viking warrior: implacable, commanding, and with the single-minded focus of laying his hands on the thing he'd come specifically to claim.
For the past two hours, he had been in a literal agony of arousal, because his deliciously-wicked wife had decided to start their weekend off a little early.
And how had she done that?
By texting him a series of pictures showing her kneeling on their bed wearing nothing but jeans and a mouthwatering lacy red bra, then with her jeans at her knees, and then she was pulling down the scrap of red lace panties those jeans had been concealing, tormenting him by only showing a hint of what he knew that lace was hiding.
It had taken him a solid thirteen minutes to recover from the shock of Cassie Radford Nightingale (calm, Zen, and one of The Pillars of Middleton) sexting him.
And another twenty-one excruciating minutes after that to subdue his arousal enough to be able to function for the next hour and a half.
His wife was going to kill him. Again.
Oh, it was totally going to be worth it.
Kicking the door shut with more than a little repressed frustration, not to mention the arousal that was slowly taking over every inch of his body, Sam locked it with savage satisfaction and paused for just a moment to thank God that Nick, Grace, and George were all out of the house for the weekend, and no guests were scheduled until Tuesday. He and Cassie finally — FINALLY — had forty-eight hours of time where they were going to be completely alone and he had made plans. And they started in the living room on that giant rug in front of the hearth, fire included (and he intended to light the fireplace, too). After shucking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie, he started for the stairs, drawing in a breath to call her name —
— and ground to a stunned, disbelieving stop at the sight of one silky black thigh high stocking curled provocatively on a pile of yellow rose petals, placed not-at-all innocently on the first stair.
His lips curved into a delighted smile.
Ah. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who'd made plans.
And from the look of things, he was in for a heap of trouble.
Oh, he couldn't wait.
Particularly because, three steps up, her jeans were neatly folded atop a sprinkling of red tulip petals.
Then her bra, red and lacy, resting on a frothy pile of pink lily petals.
And her other stocking, entwined with the petals of a purple iris.
By the time he got to the upper landing, walking was the sweetest kind of agony and there was no way he was standing upright any time soon. Thankfully, the door was cracked for him, because he wasn't entirely sure he had the coordination necessary to work the doorknob.
Using his shoulder, he nudged it further open and paused just inside the frame, taking in the massive array of lit candles scattered all over the bedroom . . . and the blatant invitation of the turned-down bed.
So much trouble.
Before he could look for Cassie, he heard the door shut softly behind him and turned with a smile —
— and his knees buckled when he saw his wife, wearing nothing but his favorite blue cashmere shirt and crooking a finger to summon him to her. Dazed with stunned, aroused disbelief, he managed to obey. There wasn't a drop of blood left anywhere in his body but his cock, so all he could do was kiss her like the starving man he was, his hands cradling her face as they drank each other in and did their level best to shatter the existing world record for longest kiss.
They almost made it, too.
When she pulled away, he whimpered pitifully at the loss, trying to coax her back to his hungry mouth . . . only to pause and blink in bewilderment when she evaded his hands and pushed him flat against the door, gave him a sweet kiss that ended even as it began, and started pulling her — his — no, it was hers now and he would never try to wear it again — shirt off and he choked on his tongue when she dropped it on the floor, standing in front of him in nothing but those lacy red panties and a proud, sexy smile.
Then she sank to her knees.
Oh. Oh, God.
She wasn't —
The feel of her hands unbuckling his belt was the most erotic thing he'd ever felt . . . until she unzipped his trousers. His strangled gasp was rewarded with a pleased hum and the feel of her popping open the button.
Oooh, she was.
Wow. They hadn't yet done this, but as ever, when Cassie decided she wanted something, she went all-out to get it. Then she fried his brain when she tugged his trousers and underwear down his thighs, gave him a smile that was both shy and sultry, and just pulled the head of his cock into her hot, sweet mouth.
And took him to heaven.
His strangled cry probably echoed around the neighborhood and it made her smile around him, which nearly had him exploding right then and there. But hell would freeze over before he let this beautiful, amazing experience end so soon, so he took a deep breath and clenched his fists so tightly that it hurt, using that small pain to ground himself and take a step back from the brink. Then he tangled his fingers in her hair because he had to touch her, and he just . . . let go. His entire world shrank to the incredible reality of Cassie Radford Nightingale sucking his cock.
He was mindless with pleasure and moaning nonstop when she suddenly, cruelly, took her mouth away. The loss of that glorious moist heat made him cry out a wordless protest, his fingers tightening even as he forced himself to let her go.
And immediately had his mind blown by watching her slowly, seductively, lick her palm, then use that wicked pink tongue to wet her lips. He groaned in agonized anticipation and then she wrapped her wet hand around him, giving him a single stroke that tore a deep, harsh moan of disbelief at how good she felt.
She obviously enjoyed his reaction if her sudden smirk and repeat caress were any indication.
"Cassie!" he choked out, desperate for her to keep going.
His wife being the amazing woman that she was, she immediately started to torture him play, using his throaty groans and cries of helpless pleasure as her guide. And oh, God, his woman could follow a map.
And all he could do was watch and enjoy the gift she was giving him, his chest heaving as he fought for air, while she took an absolutely devilish delight in making him beg. Her current favorite trick was making his cock jump by rubbing her palm over the wet, leaking head and chasing her touch with increasingly firm swipes of her tongue.
He was out of his mind now from the pleasure of her touch and the heady knowledge that this was something she wanted to do for him. It — she — felt staggeringly good and he could only moan while he fought to keep his helpless thrusts as shallow as possible, and she was loving it, given the appreciative noises she was making around him (which were driving him crazy) and her eager encouragement of his movements.
He was dancing the razor's edge of his control when Cassie suddenly, shockingly, took as much of his cock in her mouth as she could and swallowed.
He could not have stopped his orgasm for anything in the universe and she laughed around her mouthful of him, tearing a full-throated cry of ecstasy from his throat as he started to pulse against her tongue, leading to a unintentionally rough thrust of his hips that made her take her mouth away in sheer surprise, even as she wrapped her fingers around him. Her eyes were dark and smoky with passion when they met his and her lips curved up in a sexy, provocative smile.
"Come now, Sam," she ordered him, giving him a demanding squeeze and licking her lips.
His desire surged up in a violent rush of hot, primal possessiveness as his body erupted and his release, torn from him in an explosion of raw, untamed pleasure, painted her face and chest, marking her as his.
His.
Without looking away from him, her own eyes blazing with passion, Cassie dipped a finger into the small pool on her shoulder and slid it into her mouth, humming in approval as she swallowed.
Oh. God.
Sam broke, burying his left hand in her hair while his right hand wrapped itself tightly around his cock. He growled her name as he finished himself off with three short and brutal strokes, watching with hot, greedy eyes as Cassie arched her back and tilted her head back to bare her throat in complete acceptance of his dominance, running her hands over her chest and pulling another feral growl from him when she smeared his release across her hot, flushed skin. Her unbelievable claiming of him while he was claiming her overwhelmed Sam so abruptly that his legs went to jelly and he went down, falling to his knees with his head hanging low and his chest heaving from the shattering force of the glorious orgasm she had given him.
Fuck.
For a minute (or a day, or possibly forever; Sam neither knew nor cared which) all he could do was try to breathe while he slowly recovered from one of the most intense experiences he'd ever had in his life and vaguely wondered if she had actually managed to kill him this time.
And a few minutes later, when he was finally able to see and move, he slowly looked up, only to have his wife blow his mind.
Again.
She was kneeling on the bed and clearly waiting for his attention, because when his stunned eyes met hers, she gave him a satisfied smile and beckoned him with the same finger she'd used to taste him. Fire sparked in his veins and he groaned at the memory even as he scrambled (well, carefully rose) to his feet, promptly stumbled because he was still mostly dressed, and wasted precious minutes of his life that he would never get back to strip as quickly as possible. Once he was naked, he turned to stalk over to the bed and his waiting wife, only to blink in in surprise when she stopped him in his tracks — literally — by holding up her hand, palm out, and giving him another smug smile as she pointed to a chair that had been positioned several feet from the bed but still had a clear view of the mattress.
Speechless from shock, curiosity, and anticipation, Sam slowly obeyed and sank down on the cushion, wondering what his increasingly-daring and playful wife had in store for him now.
He could not believe how much their relationship had evolved over the last three months; she had always trusted him, but his steadfast support and encouragement in their bedroom (and the woods by the lake house. Oh, and that one time in her storeroom at midnight, because she hadn't been able to wait another minute to have him (he'd sported an obnoxiously self-satisfied smile for two days)) had finally let her feel safe enough to trust herself, and she was less and less wary of initiating something she wanted in bed.
He loved his life.
And God knew how deeply he loved her.
Cassie had yet to say a word since she'd ordered him to come for her and for whatever reason, Sam found that her silent commands were as hot as hell . . . but he wasn't ready to submit just yet. Arching an eyebrow, he made a show of settling back in the chair to get comfortable, spreading his legs so she could look at him and meeting her amused, self-satisfied smile (which probably should have annoyed him and he absently wondered what it said about him that he found it arousing) with a silent challenge of his own.
Oh, he couldn't wait to see what she had planned for him now.
"Well, husband," she said huskily, startling him a little as she rose up on her knees. She caught his avid, hungry gaze with hers and stayed perfectly still for a minute so he could just admire her: wild hair, flushed skin, naked except for that pair of tiny red lace panties . . . and her face and chest still painted with the remnants of his release.
Okay, wow. That was fucking hot.
Wait. She'd said something that needed a response.
"Yes, wife?" he asked silkily, his blood heating when her nipples puckered and her breathing noticeably sped up.
But this was her time and she took effortless control of him, wordlessly compelling him with her passionate, loving gaze.
"You made me a promise, Sam," she purred, refusing to relinquish his eyes while she slowly worked her underwear off her hips and down her legs.
Oh, she was finally naked and he was looking at her so greedily that he didn't see her toss that miniscule scrap of red lace at him and they smacked him right in the face. Her soft giggle pulled an answering chuckle from him and his smile widened when he pulled them away from his eyes, loving her and her playfulness. Then he caught a whiff of her arousal, which had soaked and saturated that tiny piece of fabric, and his desire spiraled even higher. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her scent again and swore viciously when his cock tried to take a renewed interest in things, his nerve endings sizzling with lust.
He couldn't take it anymore; he had to taste her. So he lightly ran his tongue over the soaked fabric and groaned inaudibly as her taste exploded on his tongue. Amazing. She was so amazing.
He finally regained enough control to meet her eyes — and was immediately trapped in a gaze so scorching that the air between them nearly caught fire.
"And I'm tired of waiting," she continued, sitting back on her heels and giving him a sultry once-over that sparked another surge of hunger.
"Soooo," she continued, drawing the word out and making his heart pound harder with every extra syllable. "You are going to sit right there. And watch," she commanded him, her eyes glowing gold with passion.
"And then you're going to talk."
{{S&C}}
Cassie Radford Nightingale found herself in an unusual situation.
Again.
Almost three months ago, she had inadvertently revealed her secret desire to have her husband talk to her orgasm, with no touching allowed by either of them.
And, given his rather loud and enthusiastic reaction, Sam had been very interested in granting that wish.
But he hadn't. In fact, he had yet to bring it up at all. And a direct result of her ensuing frustrated desire — weeks of it — was Cassie discovering that some things could only work when they happened spontaneously.
Which had been a very enjoyable discovery (although she had to say that trees were not a comfortable surface).
But as she found herself thinking more and more about coaxing Sam — and his husky, sexy, arousing voice — to do this for her, she came to realize that it only needed to be spontaneous for him. He could read her a recipe for chocolate cake and get her hot-and-bothered (and hadn't THAT had been an unexpected revelation? Erotic. Bone-meltingly satisfying. And . . . she might not be able to eat whole cherries ever again.).
Anyway, after more than a week of thinking over and considering how best to go about getting what she wanted — and needed — she had come to the conclusion that she needed to concentrate completely on Sam until he came. That way, he would have the ability to maintain the iron self-control he need in order to . . . well . . . get her off without having to worry about losing himself.
And God knew, making her husband the sole focus of her attention would definitely make her hot and ready for him.
Not that it would be difficult, mind. She was getting wet just thinking about what she wanted to do for him and discovered that the idea was literally mouthwatering.
Only . . . she had never . . . well . . . she'd never sucked a man's cock before. And the few times she'd tried to touch and stroke him, Sam had been so close to the edge that she had never really gotten to try anything.
And she really, really wanted to give her husband the kind of earth-shattering pleasure he loved to lavish on her.
In fact, she was planning on it.
But it would require research, so she firmly buried her embarrassment with the knowledge of just how good she was going to make Sam feel and dived headfirst into her hunt.
Romance novels were out and so were adult videos, obviously. But she did have a very good friend who owned a gigantic used bookstore — and Olympia wouldn't say a word other than making her usual inspired suggestions.
Okay, there would also be a knowing look and maybe a proud smile as well.
One quick overnight trip to Chicago (and yes, one knowing look and smug, encouraging smile) later and Cassie was the proud (also, bemused. And very, very curious.) owner of four rather thick books and one instructional DVD (which had been eye-opening on multiple levels) on the best ways to bring her husband to the incredible heights of ecstasy that he adored giving to her.
And once she got comfortable with what she was learning, Cassie had found it very difficult to keep from using her new knowledge on him, but experience with his darker, rougher side told her that waiting until they were actually alone and could focus completely on each other, without having to worry about someone unexpectedly showing up, was the best option. She took great pride in reducing him to broken curses and strangled cries, while Sam positively relished making her scream.
And . . . she was really hoping that shattering a window was in her immediate future.
(Why, WHY, did the entire electrical structure of their lake house have to be replaced now?)
The day before their weekend off began, she was stocking shelves when a young man browsing jewelry got a text. Her senses flared, telling her that she needed to be standing next to him, and Cassie obeyed, though she was puzzled as to why.
As she came up behind the man, she saw him open the message — and they both sucked in a quick breath at the image (oh, no, there were several pictures) of a woman in varying stages of undressing. The man made a muffled noise behind his lips and left the shop, almost breaking into a run once he cleared the door.
Cassie didn't move, blinking a few times as she absorbed what she had just seen.
Well. That would certainly get Sam's attention.
But . . . could Cassie actually do it? It was . . . was . . .
. . . going to drive Sam insane with desire.
She offered a quick prayer of thanks that he was working 'til midnight and after she got home, began to experiment with poses and clothes. Looking at herself trying to take sexy pictures was a little absurd and she spent a good portion of the evening giggling, but something eventually clicked and she ended up with four shots in a row that she liked.
And . . . wow. That was it. She was ready.
In every sense of the word.
Anticipation of the coming night kept her awake and watching Sam with such intense hunger, she thought she might go up in flames just from imagining what would happen tomorrow. It made concentrating extraordinarily difficult and she finally gave up at four and closed for the day before heading to Abigail's to pick up the flowers that were part of her surprise for him. As she made her way home, her eagerness slowly built up while her imagination steadily fed the fire of her arousal.
Hoping to take her mind off the wait she still had before Sam came home, she decided to indulge in a long, hot soak, shamelessly enjoyed the ritual of applying his favorite lotion to her sensitive skin (and if she imaged that it was his hands, well, who could blame her?), and, after a long perusal of their closet, settled on what she wanted to wear.
Her hand was steady while she took the pictures she wanted to give Sam, though it was several minutes before she found the courage to send them. When he didn't respond, she couldn't help but grin; her husband was hard to rattle. Then she threw on shorts and a shirt before heading downstairs to grab a snack and work on a puzzle she'd gotten out for this very reason; she needed some distraction until Sam got home. And to her own surprise, she actually lost track of time and got lost in the soothing repetition of matching puzzle pieces, so her phone's alarm startled her a little.
It was time.
She headed upstairs, her nervousness fading quickly in the wake of her simmering arousal, and took a minute to spritz on a little of her favorite perfume before changing into what she would be wearing specifically to make him lose his mind, then trotted back down to prepare her message for him.
That done, she returned to their bedroom and started turning on the color-change candles she'd bought specifically for tonight (she'd originally intended to use real ones, but a vivid memory of the night she'd come home from Wellingsley changed her mind. She and Sam were explosive enough; there was no reason to risk actually setting the house on fire.) and smiling softly as the ambiance of the room slowly softened before turning down the bed and setting up a chair for him, and then easing the door closed but not completely shut. With everything done, she took one last deep breath and settled in at the wall beside the door to wait for her husband.
It took what might be the longest seven minutes in the history of time for him to finally get home and his ferocious desire was turning her blood to molten lava. When he saw the first line of her message, his lust spiked hard and by the time he got to their door, all she could feel from him were flames of an all-consuming hunger.
For her.
It was intoxicating to know just how deeply he desired her, so when he came in the door, jacket gone and tie loose, she found herself unable to hold back and called him to her, his hands coming up to cradle her face as they poured all of the hot, passionate lust they'd been bottling up for days into that greedy, voracious kiss. When Cassie had no choice but to pull back and gasp in a breath, his soft whimper made her heart clench with love.
And her body clench with a powerful wave of longing.
She gave him a quick, soft kiss to distract him while she pushed him against the door and caught his gaze, a barely-there smile coming to her lips when he simply stared at her with wide, mesmerized eyes as she slowly stripped off his — and her — favorite blue shirt. Without looking away from his shocked expression, she let it fall to the floor and simply reveled in the loving — and lustful — admiration gleaming in his vivid blue gaze, as she stood there in only a pair of panties and feeling nothing but want for her gorgeous, amazing husband.
And she wanted, needed, to touch him, taste him.
Love him.
Without looking away, she slowly sank to her knees and reached for his belt buckle, feeling his breath catch as he realized what she was doing. His arousal flared so powerfully that she actually had to bite her lip to contain her cry and it took all her concentration to get his suit trousers open. Licking her lips in eager anticipation, she pulled them and his black briefs down together, reaching for him with greedy hands even as nerves rose up. But at the sight of him, beautiful and hard and hot for her, with the head of his cock wet and shiny, her nerves vanished in the wake of her overwhelming desire to taste him.
So she did, sucking him into her mouth and smiling when he cried out in shocked pleasure. His fingers slid into her hair and tangled in the thick strands as he moaned, wordlessly begging her to keep going.
He tasted and felt incredible, tangy and just a little salty, with tiny tremors running through his shaft and the skin hot and tight against her fingers. His stunned gasp when she licked the spot just under the front of his rounded head made her smile with sheer happiness and she did it a second time, reveling when he moaned again.
And again.
She licked and sucked and ran her mouth all over him, exploring every (impressive) inch and enjoying each gorgeous second of loving him this way.
But she wanted to touch him, too, so she eased her mouth away, smiling when he cried out a plaintive objection, and licked her hand, then her lips, chasing his flavor because he tasted wonderful, and then she wrapped her fingers around him and gave him one long, slow stroke. He moaned low and dirty, his hips thrusting forward just a bit, so her smile widened as she rewarded him with another pull.
"Cassie!" he gasped, sounding desperate while his fingers tightened in her hair.
Well, far be it from her to deny her husband something he wanted so badly — and, frankly, something she had wanted to do for weeks — so Cassie grinned again and started to explore, letting her fingers skate across his sensitive skin and play with the vein that nudged her wrist when she tickled the rim of his cock. He was moaning nonstop now, interspersed with choked gasps of her name and grunted curses that she used to guide her and find out what he liked, what he loved, and what he wanted her to do again, right now, dammit.
Hearing him beg for her mouth and touch was a heady, powerful thing and Cassie actually smirked before giving him what they both wanted, rubbing the palm of her hand over his wet, leaking slit and then leaning forward to follow with her tongue, chasing his taste and loving it. Loving him.
His moans were growing hoarse now and his hips kept pushing forward as she worked him with her hands and lips and tongue, humming in enjoyment and letting herself rock on her knees to the rhythm of his thrusts. Seeing, hearing, and feeling him so deeply under her thrall just because she wanted him like this and he loved her was the most potent aphrodisiac she could ever imagine and she breathed, "Oh, Sam!" when he cursed, long and low, at the twist she made as she stroked up his shaft.
That was the sexiest sound she'd ever heard and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel and taste his orgasm.
Now.
Wrapping both hands around his cock, wet from her tongue and his own fluids, she opened her mouth, slid it as far down him as she could, and swallowed.
His ecstatic cry echoed through her own body like nothing she'd ever felt, igniting her blood, and she laughed in sheer joy, seeking a deeper taste when his hips unexpectedly shot forward and pushed her mouth off of him. Startled, she caught him in her hand and just stared at him, his face flushed with passion and those mesmerizing eyes blazing with desire.
"Come now, Sam," she demanded, wanting everything he could give her. His growl was feral as he obeyed, his release shooting out of him to splatter all over her chest and face. His primitive claim sparked her own possessiveness and she held his eyes in a fierce stare while she ran her finger through a small patch of fluid on her shoulder and sucked it into her mouth. His flavor exploded on her tongue, a tangy mixture that tasted like . . . like warm rain on pavement and the smallest hint of lime. It was gorgeous and she wanted more, but he had just been pushed beyond his limits.
He growled her name as he fisted her hair with one hand and his cock in the other and stroked it roughly, tearing out his own orgasm with a low roar that found its echo in her throbbing center, desperate now for his touch. And she welcomed his claim, arching her back and baring her throat so his release could cover her and let the world know that she belonged to him.
She absently stroked her hands across her chest, smearing the warm liquid over her skin and delighting at the feel of it.
Sam dropping to his knees like a rock startled her and she looked at him with wide eyes as he lowered his head and tried hard to get his breathing under control while he buried his hands in his hair and shook a little from the force of the orgasm she had just given him.
She couldn't help the surge of satisfied pride at having shattered him so thoroughly. And watching him come apart for her was the hottest thing she'd ever seen. His fascination with and single-minded pursuit of making her come apart every time he touched her was suddenly much more understandable.
Cassie wanted to bask, truly, but she was so aroused now that she couldn't think beyond her need for him. She managed to climb to her feet and make her way to the bed, knee-walking to the middle and turning to face her husband, sitting back on her heels and waiting patiently (and, yes, smugly), for him to come back to earth.
Once he finally recovered enough to think, he met her eyes, his own wide and still stunned. She was unable to hide her satisfaction at the state of bliss she'd reduced him to, and for the second time that evening, she crooked a finger to call him to her. Helpless now to resist her, he carefully stood up, realized he was still dressed, and somehow managed to strip without losing his balance or relinquishing her gaze. The second he was naked, he started for the bed, heated intent showing in every line of his body, only to actually rock back on his heels when she shook her head and held her hand, palm out, telling him to stop.
When he did, a wave of dark possessiveness washed over and she smiled again before silently indicating the chair she had positioned specifically for his pleasure. He obeyed without a word, slowly settling himself on the cushion. But when she still didn't speak, it tripped something in him and he arched an eyebrow at her, leaning further back and spreading his legs so she could get a good look at his gorgeous, sexy body. Her smile was smug and knowing, and she did look her fill before meeting his eyes again and acknowledging his silent challenge.
She was fine with that. It was long past time for him to give her what he had promised.
"Well, husband," she drawled, making sure he was watching as she slowly rose to her knees and letting her lips curve a bit as his greedy eyes roamed over her body, his fire blazing higher and hotter as he took in the marks of his possession.
"Yes, wife?" he asked silkily, clearly not yet ready to yield.
But this was her show, though she was a little surprised at how effortlessly she dominated him with nothing but a searing, commanding look.
"You made me a promise," she told him, wanting him to know just what he was in for while she eased her underwear down her hips and then off, clenching them tightly in her hand as she watched him devour her with burning, passionate eyes. She craved him so badly that she was almost shaking, but out of nowhere, a sudden mischievous urge struck her. Desperate to slow things down for just a minute, just so she could breathe, she chose to indulge it, taking careful aim and tossing her panties straight at his face. When they landed over his eyes, she couldn't help but giggle, especially when he chuckled as well and pulled them away so he could see her.
When he stopped with them just under his nose and took a deep breath, clearly scenting her arousal, her whole body clenched in reaction. His eyes were half-lidded as he took another sniff and licked his lips, and she swallowed at how incredibly hot that was.
When he touched his tongue to the wet fabric so he could taste her, then met her gaze with eyes that were smoldering with lust, her own eyes lit with a yearning so intense, the air between them crackled and she had to fight down a climax right then and there.
"And I'm tired of waiting," she finished, in what might the most honest statement ever made, sitting back on her heels again and spreading her legs a little, relishing the tiny whimper that escaped his throat while she skimmed her greedy eyes across his naked form, splayed in that chair for her pleasure and making Michelangelo's David look like a choirboy in comparison.
His nostrils flared at that and she smiled, leaning forward just a little and capturing his eyes again.
"Soooo," she murmured, drawing his anticipation out and loving the restless shift he was unable to suppress. "You are going to sit right there. And watch," she instructed him in a voice gone hoarse with lust. He swallowed hard and nodded, licking his lips as she started to lie down so he could give her what she wanted.
What she needed.
"And then you're going to talk."
{{C&S}}
She wanted him to talk?
Hell, yes. Her wish was most definitely his command. And his desire.
"Happy to," he crooned, settling a little further back in the chair and watching with predatory eyes as she laid down, resting her head on the mound of pillows waiting for her so she could still see him and spreading her legs just enough to tease him with the view.
Even from here, he could see that she was soaking wet from wanting him.
Fuck.
This was going to be amazing but it was also going to take an actual miracle for him to keep his hands to himself.
But that was what Cassie wanted, so that was exactly what she was going to get.
"Then I will gladly tell you everything I feel for you, sweetheart, and describe in exquisite detail just exactly what I'm doing to you," he said, hearing his voice go to gravel as his imagination went wild. Her choked moan was music to his ears and he couldn't stop his satisfied smile at hearing the proof of the effect his voice had on her.
Oh, this was going to be So. Much. Fun.
"But first," he continued, fisting both hands to keep from grabbing his cock, which was, astonishingly, starting to take a renewed interest in things.
"Yeah?" she asked, challenging him even as she was laid flat on her back, waiting for him to talk her to an orgasm.
God, he loved her.
"First," he shot back, spreading his legs a little more for comfort and licking his lips as he ran his gaze over her again. "You're going to put both hands on the headboard and keep them there until I say otherwise."
An arched eyebrow was his only reply, but she obeyed nonetheless. Her breasts swayed seductively as she stretched her arms over her head and he licked his lips again, absently noticing that he was drooling just a little. His wife was gorgeous.
"Okay," he breathed before pausing to swallow. "Lick your lips, sweetheart."
She did and he bit back a groan; this was all about her now, so he needed to keep his body under control until he had given her everything she wanted.
"That's my mouth, just saying 'hi'," he told her, remembering the night they'd first tasted this kind of passion.
"Mm," she murmured, flexing one leg and licking her lips again.
"Yeah," he agreed huskily, his eyes fixed on her mouth. "And now I'm kissing over your cheek, down your neck . . . oh, I'm biting at that little hollow that was made for my chin."
A low moan was his answer and he chuckled, loving this. "Yeah," he said again. "I'll never want to bruise you, Cassie, but I want to you to feel my teeth and know that you are mine. And that little bite of pain when I scrape my teeth over your shoulder feels so good because you know I'll never hurt you, but your body is mine, sweetheart. And God knows you can do anything you want to me, anytime you want it."
She moaned again, longer and louder, as she squirmed against the sheet and drew her left leg up in an attempt to get some friction and ease the ache he was building.
"Ah-ah," he warned her, his voice darkening a little. "None of that, Cassie Radford. I'll give you all the attention you want, but not until I'm damn good and ready."
"Tease!" she shot back breathlessly, slowly lowering her leg and giving him a heated look across her body.
"Absolutely," he agreed equitably, shifting himself as his cock started to thicken.
"But since I'm worshipping your breasts right now, I'm pretty sure you don't care," he continued, listening hungrily as she whimpered and unable to stop his smug smile when she had very obviously had to force her hands to stay wrapped around the headboard. So he loved the fact that his voice was that potent to her. Sue him.
"I'm squeezing your nipples, sweetheart," he whispered, forcing her to focus even more on his voice and knowing that the resultant sensation was going to be multiplied exponentially. "And licking them and mouthing them and oh! I just scraped my teeth over one an—"
A bitten-off cry interrupted him and he watched in avid — and slightly evil — satisfaction as his wife twisted and writhed, trying desperately to get some friction to ease the insistent throbbing that he was building between her thighs and also chasing his voice as he let it slide across her body, touching every inch of her as he talked and relishing her uninhibited enjoyment of his attentions.
"Now I'm licking that spot just a little over from your belly button," he rumbled, his voice now velvet-covered gravel (as she had once described it to him), and that made her moan something utterly incoherent in response, her hands clenched around the headboard and her hips rhythmically rising and falling.
"That's it," he breathed, his eyes hot and intense as he watched his voice arouse her body. "I'm kissing and licking my way down your belly, sweetheart, because I want to feast on you until dawn and see just how many times and ways I can make you scream, so tell me what my tongue feels like when I just straight-up say 'hi' to your clit."
"Ah!" she gasped in response, her whole body jerking from the force of her reaction. "You feel so good, Sam! Hot and wet and strong and exactly what I want every time you touch me! Do it again!"
Her wish was his desire.
"I'm sucking on it now, and stroking you inside, Cassie, where you're so hot and tight and just begging for me," he rasped, his entire body crying out in protest that he was forbidden touch her.
"YES!" she cried, arching her back and squeezing her thighs together, her cry fading to a whimper when he only smiled and murmured, "Not yet, sweetheart. I want to play a little more."
"Whatever you want, Sam!" she gasped, tossing her head restlessly and flexing a foot back and forth out of her sheer need to move. "Take whatever you want; I am yours, body, heart, and soul."
"Oh, my God," he groaned, her words hitting him like a lightning bolt and making his blood sizzle with passionate lust and unquenchable desire. "I know you are, and I am yours completely, Cassie. Always. Can you feel me? My hand is over your heart, keeping it safe, and my body is in yours, taking you to heaven because you deserve nothing less."
An incoherent, broken string of syllables was her only reply and Sam couldn't do anything but stare, entranced, at the glorious picture she made: wet, wild, and going crazy for his touch.
His love.
"God, just look at you!" he gasped, watching in unabashed enjoyment and ever-increasing desire as she writhed on their bed, chasing his voice with her body and begging him to let her come. "You are so beautiful and sexy and just — oh, Cassie, the way you trust me is the most amazing gift God ever gave me, I swear!"
"Sam," she moaned, her hips rising and falling rhythmically and driving the fire in his blood higher with each frantic movement. "Please. Please!"
"Do you want to know what we're going to do next, sweetheart?" he rasped, licking his lips and fisting his cock because it was the only way he could keep his promise to get her off with just his voice. And he couldn't touch her but if he didn't touch himself, he was actually going to go crazy.
Although that would be a really short trip right now. And it wasn't like anyone would notice the difference.
"Ungh," she keened, pressing her feet into the mattress and tossing her head from side to side as her hips arched up, desperately seeking his touch. His hand tightened as he watched his wife coming apart at the seams just from his voice.
Because this was something she had asked him to do for her.
"Oh, yeah," he breathed in a voice dark with promise at the image that was forming behind his eyes. "I am going to flip you over, put you on your knees, and fuck you so hard and so well that you're gonna break the headboard with your bare hands when I finally give your body more pleasure than you can imagine and you blow the sun up because you'll be too hot for it to handle."
There was a breathless moment of anticipation and then Cassie screamed¸ her entire body thrashing from the force of her orgasm as he launched her to Jupiter.
The world could literally have ended right then and Sam would not have noticed or cared while he watched in complete awe and pure lust as the woman he loved literally beyond all reason shattered into a screaming orgasm just from hearing him talk.
His cock was throbbing fiercely at being denied her body and Sam was right there with it. His patience with the game had just evaporated.
It was their turn now.
With a feral growl, he lunged up from the chair, crossed to the bed in two strides, and came crashing down on top of her, settling between her thighs where he belonged and sheathing himself in her sweet, hot body with one solid thrust. He laughed in dark triumph when she cried out again, clenching around him and brokenly begging him to fuck her.
He couldn't have stopped if the house had collapsed around them but he was so far beyond control, never mind sanity, that he only managed a bare handful of thrusts before he was gone, his mind and body exploding into a sunburst of pure ecstasy when he felt Cassie go with him, their cries mingling as they were both catapulted to the stars.
When he finally came down from the incredible high of making such passionate love to his wife, he found himself mostly on his back with Cassie sprawled over him, their legs twined together and both of them still gasping softly for breath.
"W—"
His voice cracked on the word and he cleared his throat before trying again.
"Wow," he told her, laughter threading the word as he recovered enough to register the state of complete and utter disarray they had made of themselves, each other, and the bed. They'd actually managed to pull the bottom sheet completely off of at least two corners (ah, that was the lump under his left hip.) and the top sheet had been flung over the footboard so forcefully that it was actually wrapped over itself. The bedspread being on the floor wasn't remotely a surprise . . . the fact that it was almost completely through the bathroom door, which was on the other side of the room, was.
He was afraid to look for the pillows.
"What?" she mumbled against his chest, her voice thick with sated desire. Pride threatened to drown him when he heard it, because only he could evoke this passion in her, the ability to completely let go because she knew and trusted that he would catch her.
"Our bed looks like it belongs in a scene from The Plumber Always Comes Twice," he replied, twisting a little to get off the lump of wadded sheet without dislodging his wife.
There was a moment of silence at this, and then she said, "Wait. What happened to the postman?"
And Sam lost it. Tears streamed down his face as he howled with laughter, clutching Cassie tightly to him and loving her so much that he honestly didn't know how he had survived before he found her. He had told her once that she was his soulmate, his everything, and that was so true it hurt sometimes to think about how much he loved her. She was the reason his heart beat in his chest and he was so thankful, suddenly, that she knew that.
But her fingers were trailing down his stomach and heading for the prize she had, thus far, only claimed once for herself, and he smiled tenderly even as his never-sated desire began to rise again in anticipation. If they kept this up, his next checkup was going to say he was a man in his mid-20s. And he hadn't actually been this horny in his 20s, so . . . win-win. He sure as hell wasn't complaining.
"Cassie . . . " he murmured, catching her hand and drawing it further down so that he could cover her fingers with his as she took his slowly-hardening cock in her hand and lightly, curiously, squeezed. "Mmm," he moaned quietly, relishing the feeling. By the time they were done, he wasn't going to be able to move for two days, and he had never been so eager in his LIFE to call into work.
And if they asked why he wasn't coming in, he was going to tell them.
"What?" she whispered in his ear, her hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of his neck and making him shiver.
"You do realize that you're going to kill me," he informed her. Not that he was objecting, he rather hazily thought when she started to stroke him while still squeezing and making his head spin from the exquisite sensations. Yeah, not objecting in the slightest.
"Oh!" she breathed in response, sounding . . . something.
"But . . . Sam . . ."
And by 'something' he meant 'smugly self-satisfied.'
"Hmm?" he hummed, already too far gone for intelligent thought.
La petite mort indeed.
"Well . . . it would just be a waste if you aren't around long enough to make me break the headboard," she said matter-of-factly, blowing his mind to smithereens and hardening his cock so furiously that he actually passed out for a second.
Moaning helplessly, he leaned up and kissed her, loving the taste of her passion on his tongue as he tangled his fingers in the wild glory of her hair and devoured her mouth.
And when she was squirming against him, her whole body seeking his touch, he grinned against her lips and flipped them both over, laughing outright when she gave a startled 'oomph!' at his unexpected move, only to be caught off-guard when she shoved him back to his knees, nearly knocking him over from the force of her hands.
Before he could say another word, she scrambled up after him, gave him a quick, hard kiss, and pivoted sharply so she was kneeling with her back to him and her legs spread, giving him an uninhibited view of how wet and hungry for him she was. With a savage cry pulled from the depths of his heart, he lunged forward, locking her hands on the rungs of the headboard and pressing a brutal kiss to her lips while he held her head still.
"Don't. Move. And do not let go," he ordered harshly when he pulled back from her mouth, palming her breasts with rough hands as he laved hot, wet kisses down her spine. And then, just before he reached nirvana with the sole intention of sending her screaming to the stars again, she shattered every last thread of control, restraint, and sanity he possessed.
"Then you need to hurry up and fuck me, Sam, before I have to do it myself."
Going. To. Kill. Him.
And he would welcome it with his arms and heart wide open for her.
"Your wish is my command."
~~~
fin