A/N: If you're reading this and find yourself thinking "this would never happen" I agree 100%, lol. But here we are. I had an idea and I went with it. Enjoy?
(Amanda's POV)
…
Let me just make one thing clear: I'm not a planner.
In fact, most of the time I do things on a whim, even the big stuff.
I moved to New York on a whim. I had kids on a whim (but they don't need to know that). I proposed to Liv on a whim (she knows that). It's just the way I am. And you know what? I kinda like it. If nothing else, it keeps things interesting.
So excuse me for being a little grumpy when I, for once in my life, actually plan something, and it goes to absolute shit.
"It's official-" I say, leaning forward on this ridiculously huge king sized bed, adjusting the iPad when it threatens to fall over, and taking Liv's face with it. "Worst anniversary ever."
"Hey-" She starts, interrupted by a sneeze so loud that I swear the whole mattress just vibrated, even though we're currently separated by state lines. "It's not like we could've seen this coming." She continues, giving off a tired shrug before blowing her red nose.
"But I shouldn't have left." I say, frowning and gesturing towards the screen. "I should've stayed to help out with the kids, and take care of you."
"Then you would've gotten sick too and everyone would be miserable. Plus, I would've never allowed you to pass on this opportunity."
Again, I frown. Not necessarily because she doesn't have a point, but because it just wasn't supposed to happen like this.
So here's the thing; Three months ago, I was asked, for whatever reason, to guest lecture at Quantico. Yes. That scary building where very serious people work. That Quantico.
Liv was ecstatic. I was mostly confused.
I was flattered, obviously, and I thought about it. But whenever I came up with a good reason to say no, my wife came up with an even better reason to say yes. And then, after accepting that I would in fact put on some overpriced suit and fly down to D.C., we realized it would overlap with our first anniversary.
That's when the planning started (the last fucking time I do that), and I came up with the idea of making a weekend of it; We'd fly down Thursday night, I would do the lecture on Friday, and then; Me, her, and a four star hotel in D.C. No kids. No dog. No work. Just us, sex, room service, maybe one hour of sightseeing, sex, and more sex.
Did I mention the sex?
It was an excellent plan. Noah was all set to go to his brother's house, the girls were ready for a weekend with their grandparents, and Carisi had already bought a month's worth of dog treats for Frannie. Excellent.
And then, Hailey's mom happened. And honestly, fuck you, Susan. It's bad enough to insist on dragging your kid to school when you know they're sick, but after covid? Did we learn nothing? Are we still being stupid?
You can probably guess what happened next. By Wednesday night, two out of three kids were down with the flu, and of course Liv woke up with a fever yesterday morning.
So here I am, in this giant bed that could've hosted a whole orgy, if not two. And I'm alone.
Fuck you, Susan.
…
"At least I was able to book an earlier flight home-" I say, going from frown to something that resembles a sad but reassuring smile. "Twenty four hours and I'll be there."
"I'm not dying-" She protests, followed by a coughing fit that sort of undermines her whole comment.
"We both know that it's only a matter of time before Billie gets it too, and I'm not staying in this hotel knowing that you're-"
"Amanda-" She interrupts, "I didn't say I don't want you to come home. But right now, I just want you to focus on your lecture and not worry about us."
At that, I scoff. As if I would ever be able to not worry about my family. Plus, I'm still grumpy.
"I'd rather be focusing on your ass right now, but aight."
"Sorry-" She laughs. "You're right. This is the worst anniversary ever."
"At least we have an anniversary." I say, lifting the iPad up before settling back against the pillows.
"That is the silver lining, I guess." She smiles, and I smile too. Because all things considered, things could've been worse.
I've thought about that a lot lately. How things could've been if I never drove up to that motel. Or if I did, but didn't tell her I was leaving. Or, if I told her, and she didn't kiss me. Would we still be in touch? Would we find time to see each other?
I'd like to say that the obvious answer is yes, but I just don't know.
Sadly, it's possible that life would've made it hard. It's possible that we would've turned into those kinds of friends who text every three or four months, "what happened to that coffee we were gonna grab together?", and then it would just fizzle out. And I would've been left wondering if she was the one who got away.
And the answer would always be yes.
Fortunately, that's not a scenario I have to worry about anymore, and with that thought in my head, I find it a little easier to accept that at least I have a wife to come home to. Even if said wife is terribly snotty and kinda gross right now. I'll gladly take snotty and gross every damn day of the week, if it means we even have anniversaries to celebrate.
"I'm sorry-" She says after blowing her nose again. "I was gonna suggest some light phone sex but I don't think I'm up for it."
"First, define light-" I laugh. "Second, I love you, so much, but I don't think I can come with you sneezing and coughing in the background."
"That's fair-" She chuckles. "Then I'll leave you with this. When you go to bed, think about that night on our honeymoon."
There were many nights during our honeymoon so I give her a confused look first, but when she arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow, it takes me less than two seconds to understand which specific night she's referring to.
"Oh." I say, suddenly registering how my own body comes alive.
"Mhm." She smiles knowingly. "Do with that what you will. And, report back to me when you're done… thinking about it. Give me something nice to wake up to."
"Yes ma'am." I grin, biting down on a nail.
…
That night.
I'd love to say that the infamous honeymoon fire was ignited the minute we landed in Greece, but let me tell ya; Jet lag is real, and it's a bitch.
So, no. We were too tired. Napping through the first two days, barely managing a quick dinner at the hotel restaurant, crashing long before ten pm.
But then, day three.
And let me set the scene first; It's hot, it's sunny, there's sun lotion and greek salads and so much wine. There's Liv in a white bikini, her gorgeous curves and olive skin suddenly all accessible and available for me to touch and kiss and look at.
There's a late night dinner, down by the beach, and more wine. And here I am, thinking that I know everything there is to know about my wife, that knowing her for so many years, means that there's no room for any surprises.
But she's just… different here. Her smile, her laugh, is different. Even the way she reaches out for my hand after taking care of the check, lowering her voice as she tells me "let's head back."
Remember how I said I'm not a planner?
Well, she is.
Hence this honeymoon, and this small island that feels alive but not too crowded. Hence our hotel suite with our own private deck. And, our own private pool.
God, I love her. (Even if it means we'll be living on a tight budget for the next ten years.)
…
"How's your sunburn?" She asks after closing the door, moving behind me, carefully kissing my shoulder, and then my neck.
"It's ok-" I say, half moaning, half sighing, my sunburnt chest and shoulders already forgotten.
"Wanna go cool down in the pool?"
To that, I nod, even though we both know that what's about to happen in the pool will most likely be the very opposite of cooling down.
Now, I did say private pool, but that doesn't mean we're out of sight, and it's a struggle watching her change into a bikini without throwing her on the bed. But, even I, the impulse driven half of this relationship, can appreciate the slow seduction thing. And as I watch her step out on the deck, all glowy and beautiful, I realize that maybe slow can be good. Sometimes.
"You coming?" She asks, looking over her shoulder, hand stretched out to grab mine.
"You have no idea." I mumble, accepting her hand, letting her guide me towards the water.
Wrapped up in each other, slowly bouncing, feeling weightless and carefree under this Greek moon, I finally kiss her, smiling against her mouth.
"We're married." I say, scrunching my nose as if I'm about to giggle, and I might actually do just that because right now I find the realization absolutely hilarious.
"I know." She grins, folding her arms around my neck, kissing my forehead and then my cheek. "You're my wife."
"That's insane."
"No-" She shakes her head. "What's insane-" She continues, moving closer to the edge, backing up against it until she's trapped between me and the wall. "Is how we've been married for a month and we've only had sex twice."
Sadly, that's very much true. Not for the lack of trying, but it's not like we planned our wedding. And it's not like everyday life stopped just because we suddenly had matching rings on our fingers.
"Let's do something about that." I mumble against her lips, coaxing her mouth open as she wraps her long legs around my hips.
I know, slow can be good, but literally everything in me wants to rush this now. At the risk of sounding more animalistic than human, I really just want to spin her, fuck her and make her come around my fingers. My mind, my body, every cell is buzzing from need and arousal and I have to pause, gripping the edge behind her to stop myself.
"You ok?" She asks, her cheek pressed against mine, her words coming out hot against my ear. It's not helping.
"Just-" I inhale, exhale. "Really want to feel you."
"Yeah?" She says, hands roaming my back before they find my ass, pressing me tight against her. "Tell me what you wanna do."
I tremble in her hold, grinding against her as my grip on the edge tightens to the point where my knuckles turn white and I briefly forget to breathe. "I want to do this-" I say eventually, my lips finding her neck, alternating between kissing and biting the skin there. "And this-" Lowering my head, I kiss the top of her breast while toying with the strings around her neck before releasing the knot all together.
"I have to admit something-" I mumble, now tugging at the second knot behind her back, pausing my admission until the bikini top is finally loose enough for me to pull it off and throw it away. (Clearly, at this point we have both forgotten about that not out of sight part, but, whatever.)
"What?" She asks.
"I fantasized about these tits for years before that night at the motel."
"Well, they're all yours now." She laughs, and then she laughs again when I whisper a quiet "thank you, Jesus".
After that, there's less laughing and more moaning. Soft gasps at first when I move my mouth closer to her wet nipple, and louder when I wrap my lips around it, her chest heaving as I move my hand to the other side. All the while, she grinds against me, desperately seeking friction, as I, equally desperate, try to drag this out for as long as I can.
"Amanda-" She says, her fingers prodding my ass so hard that I'm convinced there will be bruises by the time I wake up tomorrow.
"I know." I mumble around the hardened peak in my mouth, soothing it with my tongue before I glance up. "You're already close."
She nods, gulping when I shift to move a leg between hers, my hand leaving her breast only to start a torturously slow journey down her side, her stomach, circling her belly button, before I pause, playing with the white fabric.
"Please-" She says, rolling her hips, making me smile as I scrape my nails over her bikini, watching intently as her eyes roll back and her mouth falls open.
I decide then that we've waited long enough, and before she can beg me again, I pull the fabric aside.
Turns out, as soon as my fingers make contact, there's not much left for me to do, because that's when she, or rather her body, takes over; Trapping my hand between her core and my leg as she starts to ride me, mouth still open, high pitched whimpers escaping at random. I know I've had this thought a million times before, but has she ever been more beautiful?
I can't tell. I'm just mesmerized by her and how she gives herself over to me, and the pleasure. And how she's doing it here, in a pool that's private on paper but still fairly public.
I wasn't wrong. She is different here. Not better, not in a way that makes me wish we could have this in our everyday life. Just different. And for now, I am going to enjoy every single part of it.
"I love you-" I whisper, resting my forehead against her chest, registering her wild and thundering heart as she continues to rub against me, faster and harder and eventually less rhythmic and more frantic.
"I'm coming-" She responds, and if I wasn't so preoccupied with getting her there, and watching as she arrives, I might've laughed.
The laughing returns just a short moment later, when she's back in her body and her wide eyes find mine. As if we're both left briefly surprised and a little awestruck by what just happened and what we just did.
"I love you too." She smiles, leaning in for a kiss that starts as a peck before it deepens, reminding me that my own body is still very much hunting the climax that's been building for hours, days and weeks.
…
How we get out of the water and end up by the side of the pool I'm not sure, but I do know that I'm on my back, and she's straddling me, tugging at my bikini, lifting it up and over my breasts, exposed for her to do exactly what she wants with them.
I'm just about to surrender to whatever that might be when I see it.
Or rather, him.
Heart suddenly beating fast for other reasons than my sexual craving, I grab Liv's wrist to get her attention.
"Liv, wait-" I say, clearing my throat, finding myself utterly torn between not wanting to stop, and needing to protect my wife from whoever this stranger might be.
"What?" She asks, out of breath. "Something wrong?"
"Someone's watching us." I whisper, nodding in the man's direction, fully aware of how without her glasses, Liv won't see a single thing.
"Who is it?" She asks, not even taking the time to glance over her shoulder.
"Some guy?" I shrug, finding her question amusing and confusing.
She leans down then, kissing me, slowly and thoroughly, my body physically aching for more. "Is he filming us?"
Squinting my eyes, I try to focus, but it's dark, I might be a little drunk, and my eyesight isn't getting any younger either, so I guess instead, shaking my head no. "I don't think so."
"Let him watch." She breathes, her lips now close to my ear, her words causing goosebumps to rise all over my arms and legs.
What the fuck?
"Seriously?" I breathe back, instinctively arching my back, my pelvis seeking hers.
"I want him to watch." She says, and I didn't know I could come from words alone, but maybe it's possible because holy shit. "You ok with that?"
"Yeah-" I hear myself respond, finding that it doesn't matter. As long as she plans on making me come. And as always, my wife is a woman with a plan, so when she moves a moment later, I moan from the anticipation alone.
I think I leave my body for a short minute when her mouth finally finds my breast, because… What? Who is this?
Not that I'm complaining.
Honestly, I couldn't care less about being watched right now, especially when she does that thing with her tongue and her lips around my nipple and, oh, shit, she's gonna make me come like this.
Desperate for something to hold on to, I move one hand to the back of her head, hissing when she bites the sensitive nub, but again, not complaining. Pain and pleasure seem to fuse together at this point and I'm more than willing to offer my entire body to her in whatever way she wants to take it.
"Harder-" I manage to say, or rather beg, my inner walls clenching around nothing, my clit throbbing from both the lack of friction and the impending orgasm. I lift my hips in search of release, but she has me pinned and I find myself completely at her mercy as she keeps devouring my chest as if it's her very last meal.
In the end, it's the combination of her teeth on one side and a surprising pinch on the other that does it. I probably won't be able to wear a bra for days without pain, but my god it's worth it.
Clawing at her back, I bite back the cries I want to let out, still somewhat aware of how we're outside, still somewhat aware of the fact that someone is watching us.
But for a few heavenly seconds, when she locks her lips to mine, as my muscles contract, my thighs shaking, it's just me and her. Just us, wet skin, heavy breaths and nothing else.
"Is he still there?" She asks, moving her mouth to my jawline first and then to my collarbone.
"Yeah-" I say, squinting towards the balcony, trying to catch my breath, still trying to recover. Again, I'm guessing, because anything more than three feet away is all blurry and funny looking.
Asking like that, I expect her to suggest that we move things inside, that the show is over, so no, I'm not prepared when what she does instead is mumble a quiet "good" before sliding further down my body.
I lose all sense of… well, everything then, my head spinning as she hooks her fingers in my bikini bottoms, pulling them down and throwing them to the side. Her naked back being the only thing that shields me from the stranger's gaze.
At this point, I'm more or less convinced that I actually did bleed out that day back in September. Because there's no way this is real. There's no way that she, of all people, is currently spreading my legs, kissing my stomach, my thighs and hips, ready and eager to eat me out, in front of a fucking audience.
But right now? Right now I'm ok with being dead. If this is heaven, I'll take it.
"How do you want it?" She asks, peering up at me. And I? I lose my mind all over again.
"Hard." Is all I'm able to say, moaning when the kisses move from my hip bone to my pelvis, just as I feel the tip of her fingers, angled in what feels like a warning, or maybe more like a promise.
"Like this?" She whispers hoarsely, pushing into me at the same moment as her mouth finds my clit.
If she's expecting a coherent response she's going to be disappointed because I have officially lost the ability to speak. So I nod instead, whimpering, lifting my hips to encourage her, and everything she's doing.
I did tell her hard, but Liv tends to hold back with me for a number of reasons, so I wasn't expecting this; The way she pumps her fingers, uses her mouth, the way she groans against me, pushing my body to the edge of the pool where I'm forced to throw my arms above my head and stop myself from falling into it.
I no longer have the choice to bite back any of the sounds rumbling up from my chest, and even if I could, I'm not sure I would because more than anything I want Liv to know exactly what she's doing to me. I want her to feel everything, to hear everything. Hell, I can't lie. The thought of someone watching this, and most likely getting turned on by it? I fucking want that too.
And then, without much warning, all that everything kinda snaps all at once, forcing me to free one hand from the edge of the pool, frantically tapping the top of her head to make her move before I-
"Fuck!"
Before I come. All over my wife's face.
And no, I'm not exaggerating. And no, that has never happened before.
And if I didn't die back in September, I might be dead now.
"You good?" I hear, from somewhere that sounds far away, making me lift my head to make sure that it was in fact Liv asking the question.
"What the hell…" I mumble, head falling down again, unable to give her a clear answer, sighing when her soft lips move over my thighs and lower belly.
It might be my imagination because right now there's no way for me to separate what's real and not, but I'm pretty sure I can still see a stranger on that balcony high above us, raising his glass in my direction. I respond the only way I can think of, saluting him with a tired smile on my face, not sure if I'm saluting an actual person or some higher power that brought me to this exact moment in my life.
…
One shower, six hours of sleep and a full breakfast later, the night still lingers in my body, and I feel deliciously sated as I watch Olivia sip her coffee.
"What are you thinking about?" She asks, all though I suspect that she already knows.
"I'm just happy." I smile, eyeing her for a moment longer before my gaze wanders around the quiet breakfast area.
And that's when I see him.
"Shit-" I mumble, fumbling with my sunglasses to put them back on.
"What?" Liv says, looking at me first before looking over her shoulder.
"It's him." I say, or rather whisper, stuck somewhere between panic and a sense of surrealism when the man moves closer. Having no idea how my wife will react, I hold my breath when he reaches our table.
"Good morning-" He smiles, tipping his hat, revealing something that sounds like an Australian accent.
"Hi there." Liv responds, returning his smile.
"So…" He grins, gesturing between us. "You two ladies have a good night?"
Before I can say anything, as if I would even know what to say in a situation like this, Liv beats me to it.
"Yeah, about that-" She says, holding up a finger, a wordless "hold on" as she leans down to fumble around in her purse.
When I realize what she was looking for, I cover my mouth, the spontaneous laugh getting caught in my throat, forcing me to cough.
"If you filmed anything last night-" She says, presenting her badge, "and I find out that you sent it to anyone, or, maybe uploaded it somewhere, I will hunt you down and make sure that you never get access to a phone, let alone a nice hotel like this ever again." Here, she puts the badge down, flashing him her brightest smile. "Are we clear?"
Gulping, he stays quiet for a few seconds, nodding once, twice, gulping again. "Yes ma'am."
"Good boy." She says, taking another sip of her coffee. "Have a nice day."
"Yeah, uh, you too-" He stutters, looking like he's not quite sure what to do with his arms and legs before he eventually moves away.
At first, I'm too amazed to speak, but when I'm sure that he's out of a hearing distance, my laugh finally tumbles up and out, making several heads turn in our direction.
"I love you so fucking much." I more or less cackle, shaking my head as she shrugs casually first, before a wide grin appears on her face.
…
Back in D.C. and the bed I was supposed to share with my wife, I'm slowly getting control of my own breaths again, sighing and smiling as I feel myself relax against the mattress.
Lazily, I reach for my phone on the bedside table, not really sure if I'll be able to report anything at all right now. But she did give me pretty clear instructions, and I've learned the hard way never to disobey the captain's orders, so I manage a simple text; consisting only of two words and a thumbs up:
"Four times."
I expected her to be asleep by now, so I flinch when the phone vibrates against my hand a minute later.
"Happy anniversary, love. Let's go somewhere with a pool next year."
…
