Her phone beeps, and she moves over to her handbag to find it. She fishes it out and glances at the screen before opening the text message she's just received. It's from Beth asking if she's okay. Ruth smiles and answers that she won't be home tonight and would she please feed her cat. Barely half a minute later she gets a reply, "Fidget fed. Good 4 U. Is he anyone I know?" Ruth smiles and debates whether to confirm that she's with a man or not. There's no way she's telling her it's Harry. In the end, she decides that, no matter what she replies, Beth will come to the same conclusion anyway. So she just types her thanks and a goodnight, and sends the message before turning the phone off and putting it away. She doesn't want to be disturbed tonight, and if there's a Red Flash, Harry will hear about it first anyway.
She gazes back out of the window, and her mind drifts into a day dream, replaying the scenes from earlier today and tonight, and suddenly, she's feeling all hot and bothered again and more than a little worried about being intimate with Harry. It isn't that she doesn't trust him or want him; it's more to do with her insecurities about her figure and especially her skill as a lover. However, there's no way she's letting herself back out of this now, but if she stands around doing nothing but think, by the time Harry gets back, she'll be a nervous wreck. She needs to keep her mind busy. A book would be good. It's a shame she left hers at home today.
She walks out of the kitchen and wonders down the hall, opening the first door she comes to. As luck would have it, it's the room she's looking for. She flicks on the light and looks around. There's a desk in the corner with a computer monitor on it, and one side of the room is lined with bookshelves. From the shape of the room with the wall of windows overlooking the garden and the two doorways leading out of it, Ruth concludes that this was originally intended as a dinning room, but it seems that Harry's using it as his office, presumably, because he has no need for a dinning room. Ruth turns to the bookshelves and runs her eyes over the titles there. It's an extensive collection, and it surprises her that Harry has so many books. He obviously reads a lot and on a variety of subjects. She settles on a volume of poetry, and pulling it out, she looks around for a place to sit. She spots an armchair in the corner, and walking over to it, she takes a seat and opens the book. She leafs through it, reading a poem here and there, but her mind won't settle, and her thoughts drift back to Harry and what it felt like to kiss him.
After all this time of waiting and fighting the attraction between them, she's relieved that kissing Harry's so wonderful. They seem to fit together perfectly, and she fervently hopes that the sex will be just as good as the snogging. The thought of what is to come tonight makes her nervous again, and she finds she can't sit still any longer. Snapping the book shut, she gets up and returns it to its place. She can feel the muscles in her body tense up in anticipation and apprehension. Desperately she tries to think of something to relieve the anxiety that's building inside her. Perhaps a shower would be a good idea. She would definitely like to be clean and smelling fresh when Harry returns. She wonders if it would be too forward of her to have a shower. Then she tells herself not to be ridiculous. She and Harry are both adults, and they both clearly want each other, so when he gets back, it's reasonable to assume that he'll want to take up where they left off. If half a decade of separation has not changed his mind, a fifteen minute walk is highly unlikely to do so, and after all, Harry did tell her to make herself at home. So, switching off the light and leaving the room, she makes her way back to the kitchen where she grabs her handbag and goes upstairs.
All four doors on the landing are closed, so she opens them one by one to find the bathroom. The first is the guest room. The second is a bathroom, but on closer inspection, she notices that it doesn't look like it's used very frequently so she moves on to the next door. The third room has some weights and exercise equipment, and the last is obviously Harry's bedroom. She opens the door wider and steps in, switching on the light as she enters. The room is neat and orderly with simple, old furniture that looks like it's made of real wood, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, two bedside tables and a queen size bed. On one wall she notices a door, so she walks up to it and finds the en suite she knew must be here. She goes to the bath tub, and briefly contemplates having a bath instead, but she dismisses the idea almost immediately as a bath would take too long. So drawing the shower curtain across, she turns on the shower to warm up the water. Then she returns to Harry's room and draws the curtains before removing her boots. After a moment's hesitation during which she talks herself into being bold, she gets undressed, ties her hair up to keep it dry, and places her clothes and bag in a neat pile on a chair she spies by the wardrobe.
As she makes her way back to the bathroom, a statue on top of the chest of draws catches her eye. She walks up to it, and on closer inspection, finds it to be a replica of "The kiss", by Auguste Rodin. She smiles, pleased that their tastes are alike; it's always been one of her favourites. She shivers slightly, feeling a little cold without any clothes on, and makes her way briskly to the bathroom. She opens the door and steps into the warm, steamy room, the change in temperature causing her skin to rise up in goose bumps. Then she gets under the warm water and sighs happily as it massages and soothes her tense muscles.
Meanwhile, Harry walks back towards his house, whistling softly to himself. As he turns the corner into his street, his eyes are drawn to his home as always, only this time there is a sense of great excitement running through him. The kitchen light is on, but there is also a light on upstairs. His bedroom light, he realises with a jolt, and he almost stops dead in his tracks. His heart is beating so fast now that, briefly, he wonders if it's healthy. He doubles his speed and makes his way home quickly, and yet cautiously, forcing himself to pay careful attention to his surroundings for anything out of place. After opening the door and walking into the house with Scarlet, he closes it, locks it and slides home the bolts, before he resets the alarm, and hangs up his coat. Then he makes his way into the kitchen, cautiously as always, watching Scarlet for any signs that she's picked up anything unusual.
There is no sign of Ruth there, nor in any of the other rooms on the ground floor. So after making sure Scarlet has enough water, he whispers good night to her, checks all the doors and windows, and makes his way upstairs two steps at a time. He doesn't even bother to check the other rooms, but goes straight to his bedroom. The door is ajar, and he knocks lightly on it before pushing it back gently and peering in. It's empty, and a momentary panic seizes him before he spots the neat pile of clothes on the chair and hears the shower in the bathroom. The thought of Ruth naked in his shower causes his breathing to become shallow and his heart to beat even faster.
A shower is probably a good idea, he thinks. He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns it off before putting it on the bedside table and unplugging the phone from its socket. No one is going to disturb him tonight. If there's a crisis, Lucas can deal with it for a couple of hours. Then grabbing some clean clothes and an extra towel, he goes to the guest bathroom. He manages to locate soap and even a razor he can use to shave, and a few minutes later he comes out and makes his way back to his bedroom. He knocks gently on the door, but gets no response, so he pushes it open slowly and steps into the room. It's still empty, but he can no longer hear the shower running in the bathroom. He makes his way towards the bathroom door, dropping his dirty clothes in the basket by the wardrobe, however, before he can get there, the door opens and Ruth comes out with a towel wrapped around her.
They both freeze as their gazes meet across the small distance that separates them. Warm mist envelops her from the bathroom as she stands near the door, and her heart beats faster. His gaze travels down her body, making its way slowly all the way down to her bare toes, before it reverses direction and moves back up her, and she feels the heat rise to her cheeks and her throat tighten as his gaze sears her skin. She has to work hard to control her impulse to fidget. Instead she holds on tightly to the top of the towel and lets her own eyes roam over him. He's shaved, she realises, and he's changed his clothes, which probably means that he's had a shower. Her mind fills with images of Harry in the shower, and she suddenly feels a great desire to find out what he really looks like underneath his clothes. Her eyes linger on the small triangle of skin that's visible at the top of his shirt where he's left the top two buttons undone. She desperately wishes that she was bold enough to walk up to him, rip his shirt open and yank it off his body, but she cannot even pick up the courage to approach him.
He's unable to control his eyes as they sweep over her and linger on her exposed skin, causing the blood to rush to his groin. He's never seen her display so much of her legs before. They're so beautiful, shapely, and creamy that he's desperate to run his hands over them. He clenches them into fists and forces himself to look up at Ruth's eyes, however, she's not looking at his face. Instead her gaze is riveted to his chest. He smiles softly and murmurs, "Ruth?"
"Yes?" she whispers in reply as her eyes move up to meet his.
Her gaze is hot with desire, and it leaves him breathless, making him momentarily clench his jaw and fists tighter. Then he takes a step forward, closing the gap between them slightly as he replies in a husky voice, "You're incredibly beautiful."
She smiles timidly and steps towards him, and his hands move up and come to rest on her upper arms as he stares into her dark, sparkling, stormy blue eyes. He suddenly seems very tall, and she has to tilt her head up more than usual as she stands before him in her bare feet. A shiver of anticipation runs through her, and she feels hot desire pool deep inside her as she stares into his dark, hazel eyes.
"Absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs as he leans forward and presses his lips against hers, sending a jolt through both of them at the contact.
Her hands let go of the towel, and she slides them over his chest, running them slowly across the fabric of his shirt. He trails his fingertips up her arms and across her bare shoulders, revelling in the feel of her smooth, ivory skin and making her shiver at the pleasure of it. He desperately wants to pull the towel away from her so he can feast on her body, but he holds himself back, worried that he will scare her if he moves too fast. Instead he concentrates on kissing her with all his skill and enjoying every moment of it.
Her fingers find their way to his shirt buttons, and she begins to release them, working her way down until the last one springs free. He moans slightly into her mouth and deepens their kiss as her hands push aside the material, and they glide over his bare chest. He's warm, soft and just perfect, she thinks, and pushes his shirt off his shoulders. He releases her momentarily to pull it off, but he struggles a little to get it past his wrists. Ruth takes the opportunity to admire his chest, running her eyes and hands over it in appreciation. His shoulders are broad, and his chest is surprisingly free of hair and littered with old scars, and although at first glance he looks out of shape, she can tell that there's real strength lying hidden below the surface. Besides, she loves his imperfection, both in his character and his body. It's part of what makes him Harry, her Harry.
She brings her lips forward to kiss the puckered skin of an old scar on his left shoulder. She knows that it must be where Tom shot him. How well she remembers the phone call telling her of his injury and Tom's apparent betrayal, and then going to the hospital and making up that story about them being lovers, while all the while wishing that it was the truth. She hears Harry gasp as her lips make contact with his skin, and it encourages her to go on, planting open mouthed kisses against his chest and letting her tongue slide across his skin as her hands glide firmly over his abdomen and round to his back. Harry finally manages to get his hands free, and reaching round to Ruth's back, he pulls her flush against him as he murmurs words of love into her hair. She's crushed against his broad chest, his arms holding her tightly to him, so she presses her face close to him and inhales deeply, savouring his masculine scent. She feels completely safe in his arms, something she hasn't felt since she was a child, and it warms her from within and ignites a stronger passion inside her.
He trails kisses down to her ear, causing her to moan in anticipation as he approaches. He loves the way she responds to him, and especially how sensitive her ears are. All he has to do is bring his mouth close to one of them, and it makes her desire build to the point where she becomes bold and passionate, and quite unlike the Ruth he sees everyday at work. This passionate, hot, aroused Ruth is his, just his, he thinks possessively, and no one else gets to see her.
"Come to bed, Ruth," he murmurs in a low voice, and she moans, pressing herself against him. He smiles at the effect he's having on her, and then pressing his lips against her ear, he plunges his tongue into it.
She feels the tension inside her abdomen begin to build as desire twists through her and her brain is flooded by passion, blocking out everything else. Her hands slide down to his bum, pulling him closer against her as she raises herself onto her toes and presses herself forward, moaning his name. She feels him against her abdomen, all hard and ready for her, and she unconsciously grinds her pelvis against him. Then he moves his attention to her neck and jaw, and she shifts her weight onto her heels so she can unbuckle his belt. She releases the buckle and then the button and zip of his trousers, sliding her hand over his hardened length and stroking him through his cotton underwear. She feels his cock jerk in her hand as he groans and grips her shoulders tightly, tilting his head back and inhaling sharply. She smiles at his reaction and continues her gentle exploration with more confidence, pulling him out of his boxer shorts and admiring his size and shape, amazed at how thick and large he is, and how beautiful. Then she slides her hands through the opening in his shorts to caress his balls, making him swear and grip her shoulders tighter.
"You're beautiful," she murmurs as she strokes him gently. She's feeling bolder than she's ever felt before, not just with Harry, but with anyone in her entire life. Her arousal is such that it leaves no room for self-doubt or self-consciousness. It's a surprisingly liberating experience, and she takes full advantage of it as she trails kisses down his chest towards his groin.
Harry's unable to think straight right now as her hands and then her mouth roam over his erection, caressing, pressing, massaging, licking and sucking him until he almost loses control. She slides him into her mouth, taking him completely inside until he hits the back of her throat before sucking gently as she lets him slide back out. "Ruth," he moans as she licks the swollen tip of his cock and then blows on it lightly. He gasps and growls in a deep, throaty voice, "Fuck, Ruth. What are you doing to me?"
She cups his tight sac, pulling it gently back, delaying his release and licking the pearly drops that seep from the tip of his penis. She loves his taste and heady smell, and she can't stop herself from sucking him back into her mouth again, even though she knows that he's almost reached the point of no return.
"Don't," he moans, and reluctantly, she releases him, making her way back up his chest with gentle kisses and caresses, and as she stands up, the towel falls from around her body, but she no longer cares.
Squeezing his eyes shut, gritting his teeth tightly, and taking deep breaths through his nose, he manages to deny himself. As he contracts his pelvic floor muscles and presses the tip of his cock to hold back, he feels an orgasmic wave travel through him like an electric current, and it makes him groan out loud. Briefly he wonders if this is how men achieve multiple orgasms. He's read about them, but he's always thought that it's a load of rubbish. Perhaps he needs to investigate this further, he thinks. But not now. Now is all about Ruth.
Harry opens his eyes and his gaze falls on her naked breasts. They're perfect mounds of cream coloured flesh, topped by rose peaks that harden into beads as he watches. He raises his hands towards them, but before he can touch them, she murmurs, "Come to bed, Harry," and turning around, walks over to the bed and throws back the covers before getting in.
He watches her graceful body move towards the bed with lust filled eyes, and as soon as she disappears under the covers, he quickly removes the rest of his clothes and gets into bed next to her. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he moves closer to her and pulls her into his embrace, kissing her cheeks softly in an attempt to slow down their pace. He wants to make this last for her, and even through he knows he won't last as long as he would like, he's determined to do the best he can and give her pleasure first. Her right arm wraps around him and strokes his back as he kisses and sucks on her neck and shoulder. Her hand slides down and caresses his bum lightly, and then she squeezes it experimentally, a small laugh escaping her throat.
"What are you laughing at?" he asks in a husky voice.
"You've no idea how much, or for how long, I've wanted to do that," she sighs.
"Well, Ruth," he murmurs as he trails kisses along her jaw to her neck, "all you had to do was ask."
She chuckles and says, "I was hoping I wouldn't have to ask any more."
"You don't if I can do this whenever I want," he whispers near her ear and then plunges his tongue in swiftly.
She moans and presses herself against him, squeezing his bum again and wrapping her right leg around his tightly. He pulls back and smiles in satisfaction, before trailing kisses down her neck towards her right shoulder.
"Deal," she breathes. "So long as you promise never to do that in public."
He chuckles, and lifting his head to look at her, he replies with a mischievous glint in his eye, "And if I do?"
"Then I might retaliate and do this," she whispers and runs the fingers of her left hand along the inside of his thigh and up across his balls to his shaft.
He swears loudly and presses himself into her hand as his left arm wraps tightly around her shoulders and pulls her against him. He places his head alongside hers and kisses the top of her shoulders near her neck, before opening his mouth and biting the same spot playfully, and then soothing her skin with his tongue, making her groan.
"Ruth," he murmurs, "I want you so much."
"I'm yours, Harry," she answers. "All yours."
He groans and adds huskily, "What kind of contraception do you want to use?"
"None," she murmurs. "I'm near the end of my cycle."
He freezes, and lifting his head to look at her, he replies in a hushed voice, "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she answers with a blush, "I promise I'm not trying to trick you into becoming a father again, Harry."
"I wasn't thinking that," he says quickly.
"I trust you," she murmurs and kisses him softly.
"Christ, Ruth!" he exclaims. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"
"Everything," she replies and pulls him towards her for a passionate kiss.
He rolls her onto her back as the heat rises between them again. He kisses and caresses her everywhere, loving her and learning what turns her on, giving her all of his attention and using all his skill to make her burn. His hands cup her breasts gently, and lift and press them together as he murmurs words of love and admiration. He nuzzles into her cleavage and inhales her sweet, feminine scent, before he begins to lick and kiss her ivory skin as she makes soft incoherent sounds of pleasure. His mouth continues to caress her breasts as his fingers slide down to her tender heat, gliding along her delicate folds, feeling her wetness before his index finger slides inside her opening, pushing slowly into her deepest part. She moans and bucks under his touch, whimpering in disappointment when he slides it back out, and groaning when he enters her again, this time with two fingers. His thumb brushes against her clit and she arches her back towards him.
"More," she whispers.
Her eyes are closed, but his are open wide and dark with desire, taking in all the nuisances of her movements and expressions, storing them away in his mind. He presses his thumb down harder as he curls his fingers inside her and wrenches a soft cry from her lips. She's panting now, writhing below his touch, but he doesn't let her come yet. He brings her near the brink again and again, before letting her drop back down away from the edge, teasing her and making her beg for more. He replaces his hand with his mouth, running his tongue along her labia and dipping it into her core, before rubbing it over her clitoris, sucking on it gently, and loving every minute of it, her taste, her smell, the moans of pleasure he elicits from her. She pushes up against him, pulling his head towards her with her hands, groaning and directing him with abrupt, almost harsh demands as she seeks relief from the ache radiating from between her legs. He slides his fingers into her again, pressing the palm of his other hand against her abdomen and rubbing his thumb over her sensitive mound. She cries out in pleasure, and when she finally comes, it's spectacular to watch and gratifying to hear her almost scream his name in ecstasy.
It's the most incredible sensation she's ever felt. She's totally overwhelmed by the waves of ecstasy washing over her, and she falls more deeply in love with him for loving her enough to take the time to bring her to completion like this. It's the first time in her life that she hasn't had to fake it. "I want you inside me," she murmurs as she opens her eyes a few seconds later and gives him a long, lingering look, full of love and devotion.
The aftershocks of her orgasm are still rolling through her as he parts her legs, and he presses himself against her, sliding in a little way before pausing to let her adjust to him. Her eyes drift closed again and she moans, moving against him and squeezing him tightly with her muscles, trying to suck him in deeper. He presses in further, sliding easily into her slick heat until he's completely sheathed in her, stretching her deliciously and filling her all the way up. She feels so good, so snug, warm and just perfect, and part of him can't quite believe that he's here with her, after all this time, that he's inside her. He's imagined this moment so many times, and yet his normally very active imagination hasn't managed to do it justice.
"Look at me," he says gently, and she opens her eyes.
"Harry," she whispers as their gazes meet, and she manages to infuse all the love, desire, satisfaction, and happiness she feels at their union into that one word, and he knows that he will never be able to hear his name again from her lips without picturing her like this, her chestnut hair spread across his pillow, her cheeks flushed with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses and her eyes dark, blue orbs radiating love and desire.
"I love you, Ruth Evershed," he says and presses a soft, loving kiss to her lips.
"And I love you, Sir Henry James Pearce," she replies with a smile, running her fingers through his curls and across his strong shoulders.
He begins to move, gently and slowly at first, gliding in and out as she opens up to him a little more with every stroke, giving them both time to adjust and enjoy each other. Their gazes remain locked together as they move, finding a rhythm that suits them both. When he feels they're both ready for more, he pulls himself almost out and makes a few shallow thrusts before plunging in deeply and making her cry out and grip his arms tightly. He repeats his motions, knowing full well how good this will feel for her. He knows all the tricks in the book and a few more besides. He leans over her and takes one rose coloured nipple in his mouth as he alternates his thrusts, shallow, deep, deep, shallow. He moves his mouth to the inside of her elbow, a place he's discovered is as sensitive as her ears, and than he moves back to her other nipple, all the while continuing with his rhythm of a few shallow strokes and then a deep one. A deep knot of desire forms in her core, and she moans as he strokes it with every deep thrust, causing it to build in intensity until she's aching and needing in a way she's never experienced before.
"Harder," she moans, and he obliges, powering into her harder, faster and deeper. Her hands grip his arms tightly as she tilts her pelvis up to meet him and murmurs his name over and over again as the threads of desire inside her coil tighter and tighter together.
The rhythm he's set is pushing him too close to the edge, so he slows down and murmurs in her ear, "Roll over."
He pulls out of her and helps her to move until she's lying on her stomach before he presses into her again. Then he begins to move once more, changing the angle and rhythm of his thrusts as he kisses and bites the back of her neck and shoulders, making her groan. "You feel so good, Ruth," he growls. "So soft, so perfect."
His balls glide against her legs that are slick with sweat, and he feels the tell tale tingling in them, telling him that he can't last long now. He changes the angle once more as he slides a hand under her abdomen and uses his fingers to stroke her clit. She moans and presses herself against them, but his angle is awkward, and a moment later, he feels her fingers push his out of the way as she works to help him. Pulling out his hand, he reposition himself on top of her and begins to pound into her in earnest, encouraged by her grunts of pleasure as her breathing becomes heavier and she nears her climax. "That's right, Ruth," he moans. "Come, my love. Come with me."
Soon he's no longer able to hold back as he propels himself towards his own release. It hits him hard, and a harsh animal sound escapes from deep in his chest as he tumbles over, spilling his seed deep inside her. He manages to hold himself together until he feels her contract around him moments later, squeezing him tightly as the waves of her climax overtake her. Then he thrusts a couple of times more, before he collapses on his side, pulling her with him and holding her close to his heaving chest.
Bliss, everything is bliss. He could no more move right now, than he could run a Marathon. His whole body is tingling in the aftermath of his orgasm, and he cannot recall the last time he felt like this, completely elated as if he's been transported to a different reality where Harry Pearce is a cheerful, happy, optimistic man. He never wants to move from here.
"Harry," she murmurs, "that was... perfect."
"Mmmm," he hums contentedly, too lost in the euphoria he's experiencing to attempt to form words.
They remain silent for a little while, savouring each other and the sensations and joy they feel. Then Ruth murmurs in a voice laced with regret, "I'm sorry, Harry."
"What for?" he asks in surprise, opening his eyes and tilting his head to look at her.
"For taking so long to get here," she answers quietly.
He smiles and murmurs, "It's okay, Ruth. I'm just happy we're here now." Then after a short pause he adds, "I do wish I was a few years younger though, so that I could be gearing up for round two right now."
"Harry," she replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice, "after that performance, you have nothing to worry about. I'm more than satisfied. I've never experienced anything like it before. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm dreaming." She turns in his arms to face him and adds, "Though I have to say that my dreams have never been this good."
He smiles and leans forward, kissing her nose lightly before he replies, "This is no dream, Ruth. A dream could never be this perfect."
"Thank you," she murmurs and kisses his lips softly.
"Any time," he smiles lazily. "It really was my pleasure, Ruth."
She chuckles and presses her lips to his again. Then she shuffles close to him and cuddles into his side, draping her arm across his chest, caressing the damp curls at the back of his head, and weaving her leg through his. He runs his fingers across her back, toying with her hair and humming contentedly.
"Happy?" she asks with a smile.
"Blissful," he replies.
They're silent, and after a few moments, their hands still and their eyes close as they begin to drift off to sleep. Something at the back of his mind, however, won't let Harry fall asleep just yet. It takes him a little while to figure out what it is, but then he opens his eyes and reaches over to the bedside table. He picks up his phone and turns it on before checking to see if there are any messages.
"You turned it off?!" Ruth asks in surprise as his movements pull her out of her slumber.
"Yes," he answers determinedly, placing the phone back on the bedside table and turning to look at her. "After Scarlet's interruption downstairs, I wasn't going to let anything come between us tonight. It isn't every day that I have the woman I've loved and desired for years in my bedroom," he adds with a smile as he looks into her eyes.
She smiles and replies, "Well, perhaps we can remedy that."
His face turns serious as he murmurs, "I hope so, Ruth. I really hope so." Then seeing the worry that clouds her eyes momentarily, he adds hastily, "We can take this as slowly as you need, Ruth. Really. Even having you with me once a year would be better than nothing though I have to say that I'll find it exceedingly difficult to wait that long."
"Thank you, Harry," she says, giving him a grateful smile, and then she adds with a mischievous grin, "After tonight, I'm sure I'll find it hard to wait more than a week."
"That's good to hear," he replies with a smile and kisses her forehead before murmuring, "Now go to sleep. It's late."
"Goodnight, Harry," she whispers as she lies back down on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his chest.
"Goodnight, Ruth," he replies as he reaches over and switches off the light.
Barely a minute passes before they're both sound asleep in each other's arms.