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Collapsing into his lap as he rested in his favourite chair, (the chair she’d christened their ‘snuggle’ chair when they’d first officially become a thing) Anna lets out a loud huff as she rests her head against his warm, firm chest.
He’d only been back a few days since the big hunt for the first day of spring, and already she felt overwhelmed by him again. She could never explain it. They’d settled into a nice routine since that night in the garage, the night he’d first confessed his feelings to her in a way he knew only she could appreciate so fully, although he’d never anticipated her response. It had been the single most overwhelming night of her life, all full of lust, longing and deep mutual feeling. He had gone over with the intention of presenting her with a well-earned gift and had been given the best possible thank you, the promise of a lifetime together. Well, whatever was left of their lifetimes, atleast.
And yet as comfortable as they had become around each other, his coming home after these long trips always felt as though they were right back at the beginning, learning each other again, craving each other every minute of the day, indulging in each other’s presence. This was one of those moments, and she suddenly felt giddy as a virgin all over again. When he doesn’t respond to her initial coax for attention, she lets out another huff, slightly more exaggerated in intonation.
Closing the book held in one hand by two fingers and a thumb, his other hand laid flat on the arm of the chair, he leans his head down to peer at her through his black-rimmed readers, eyebrows raised almost comically as if amused by his woman’s sudden appearance.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She peers right back at him from beneath his hairy chin, all doe-eyed and pouty lips, and he responds with a simple blink, nothing more, nothing less.
She’s highly aware of the arm lying behind her, the strong, powerful hand and long, thick fingers currently gripping the end of the seat and not her ass-cheek. She knows the game he’s playing, this dinky bit of foreplay he likes to trot out every now and then when he notices her needy heat. Holding back on giving her what she wants, wanting to hear it from her own mouth, wait until she’s practically begging for it before he gives her even the lightest of touches.
She knows this game, anticipated his response, and sets upon her offensive strategy.
“I don’t know Joel...not sure if this one's inside your realm of expertise...” she sighs dejectedly.
He holds her gaze for a moment, a barely noticeable twitch of his head, before placing the book down in the basket sat next to the chair, a slight upturn to the corner of his mouth. With the same hand, he smoothly slides his readers in a deliberate display of self-assuredness from his nose, locking eyes with her once again. His brows pull in as he focuses on her slowly expanding irises, a betrayal of biology that Joel considers himself forever beholden to. One of the few giveaways that no person could ever hope to hide, a primal hunger felt for the object of their affections. Not that he needed a clue, her dramatic heaving and the meticulous placement of her soft, lithe body had been all he needed to know she was pining for something on him.
She’s turned her eyes away from him now, pulled from his chest and sitting on the edge of his thighs where they meet his knees. She sighs again as she gazes out of the living room window in mock defeat, clinging to this little act of hers. He loves it, loves her commitment to the mood she’s setting, the playfulness in which she seems to relish most. She never fails to excite him, enticing him into her little world like no other has ever been able to do before. Still, there is a little more teasing to be done here, a little more to be drawn from this charade, so he keeps his hands to himself, if only for a moment longer.
“Well ma’am, why don’t you let me in on whatever’s got ya’ outta sorts, and we’ll see if I can provide you with a solution...” he offers, eyes glued to her profile, taking in the slope of her nose, the dusting of freckles on her cheeks, the orange glow of the evening sun burning fire in her warm, chestnut hair.
“Only one?” she responds, with feigned surprise, turning to look at him again, “If that’s the case, sir...I’m afraid it’s already a lost cause...”
“How so?” he whispers as he leans his torso forward, his mouth edging closer to her pointy little ear.
“Well sir...it’s not just one thing I need seeing too...”
“Oh?”
“Oh yes...”
“So you’re sayin’ there’s more than one problem in need of attention?” his hand, which had up until this point lay dormant, began to tickle the base of her spine ever-so.
“Mmm...You see, most of the time...I can deal with these little...affairs...alone. Being that I do have some expertise,” she asserts matter-of-factly.
“Oh, I’m sure you do ma’am...”
Her gaze lowers from his eyes to the base of his throat, watching his Adam's apple sink and rise as he swallows under her careful attention. She lifts her own hand then, and lightly traces the scar at the centre of his clavicle, her mouth slightly open before she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. He can’t take his eyes off of her, even as she turns away.
“But herein lies my problem,”
“Go on...” his lips practically touching her ear.
“Well sir, I just don’t have enough hands to service each one...with the required amount of precision...”
His legs suddenly split beneath her, and she gives a little shriek as she feels herself fall through, only to be caught and dragged back into his waiting chest. His arms wrap themselves around her torso, trapping her in a heated, crushing embrace, and she shivers as he presses that hairy chin into her neck and rubs.
“Well now, I think I might just have a solution to your problem ma’am,” he speaks into her ear, licking and nibbling at the curve of her shell.
“You do?” she breathes.
“Mhmm...See I‘ve been told I have some very skilled hands and some very skilled fingers...”
“You have?” her voice is practically gone now.
“Oh yes. From a very reliable source...” his right hand begins to slide down under her grey tracksuit bottoms, “someone who’s used my particular expertise on more than one occasion."
His voice is impossibly low, rumbling through his upper body and penetrating the back of her skull, with a heavy emphasis on ‘particular.’ Nothing seems to turn her on quite like that accent of his.
Aaaah, scratch that, there is something else...
The calloused surface of his fingertip traces the hood of her throbbing clit, and she can’t help but fidget a little in his lap, her aching nub desperately trying to follow as he drags back and forth, round and round. She looks down and watches the outline of his knuckles slowly circulating through the soft cotton of her pants, feels the familiar wetness beginning to seep between her already moist folds. Notes his use of the ring-finger, applying just enough pressure without being too heavy, she knows she requested precise action, but he’s always excelled at this particularly gentle teasing.
Her whole lobe is in his mouth now, suckling with the soft caress of his tongue, licking at the lost freckle that had found itself there, savouring the little exhalations and quiet sighs coming from her mouth.
Her small gyrations causing not nearly enough friction through his own loungewear, he spreads his legs a little further, leans back slightly and pulls her closer still, his burning cock desperate to scorch the surface of her bare skin, to delve into her wondrous caverns and seek out all the hidden treasures she’s keeping locked away from him, ready to collapse on him as soon as he presses the right button.
She adores him for this, loves him with her whole heart for always taking his time, for being patient, despite her lack of it sometimes. But she’s ready for more, hell she’s gagging for more. She sweeps her nails across the coarse dark hair of his forearm, down towards the busy, working hand before,
“There’s a hole...just below there...that could do with a good seeing to.”
“Ah...You got a leak ma’am?”
“I do...”
“Hmm...Better get down there and have a look...”
His arms, oh those arms, corded with muscle, capable of such violence. She can now read each one like a story, his journey from simple carpenter to the ruthless survivor, to now. A scar for every horror he’d overcome as he made his way to her, a mark for every monster he’d slain to keep her safe. It was with those arms that he lifted her now, and placed her in his warm seat, kneeling between her legs and yanking whatever kept him from her secret place, her sweet gift, bestowed upon him and only him in all her life. He wanted her to know that he treasured it. Treasured her and cherished her, for coming into his life, for never giving up on him, for putting him in his place when he needed it, for wrapping him up in her when he needed that. She was his Angel, and he was her Bondman, forever tied together, serving one another in ways only they knew. These long absences always brought those passionate emotions bubbling to the surface, a need to reminisce and retain these beautiful reflections in their history. All the things that rest below their everyday routines, awoken over and over at the chiming of father time, awakening them again to the very raw truths that bound them together.
He takes this moment to prepare himself, both mentally and physically, to make her fall apart at his mouths behest. He spreads her wide, and she’s already soaked, a dribble of slick trailing down the gap between her cheeks, the walls of her dark pink mound pulsing with her flexing muscle, eagerly beckoning for some part of him, any part of him to swallow whole.
He wants to rouse more and more of the sweet secretion from this part of her, for he’d gladly drown in it, but his lady has made a request, she wishes for her hole to be filled, and he will gladly oblige her.
He closes his eyes and thrusts his tongue into the waiting hole, curls it up inside and drags it back before repeating the motion, indulging in the silken soft sensation against him and the sudden gasp of his woman from above. After a couple of jabs, he pulls out and drags his tongue up between her engorged lips, pushing his nose over her clit and into the little brown bush above, digging in and taking an exaggerated sniff before opening his eyes to her. She looks positively radiant and befuddled at the same time, a rare happenstance since she’s usually turned on to the point of howling at anything and everything he does to her. Apparently, she hasn’t forgotten their little game.
“Oh Sir...this leak of mine is beginning to stain our favourite seat, better put a stopper in it...”
He chuckles into her sex, laves her tiny nub a little before bringing his middle and ring finger together to tease her opening.
“Of course ma’am,” he croaks, voice laden with thirst, “Reckon I’ve got just the thing...”
With that, he gently urges his thick fingers deep inside of her tight space, feels her walls already beginning to clamp down on him. God was she something else, always teetering on the edge, her musky arousal pouring from her pleasure centre.
"How's that beautiful?"
Finally, she feels whole again, connected to him in the most intimate of ways, under her skin, quite literally. She hears herself moaning in a voice she is still trying to find familiarity with. The sounds of a woman being blissfully penetrated by the love of her life. It felt as though they’d been together for so long, when in fact it had been just over a year.
“That’s it...right there...fuuuuck.”
With one hand gripping the head of the chair, and the other curling into his long greying hair, she gently pulls him down onto her clit again, thrusting her hips against him, silently begging for his mouth to start working her again, to bring her to the edge and send her tumbling over. She’s practically sobbing for it.
He begins to lavish her again with his tongue, swirling his own spit and saliva with her percolating juices, lapping quickly and thoroughly at her clit before laying his tongue flat against her and pressing back and forth.
"Nnnng...fuck..fuck that feels so good..." she groans, deep and low, unashamed of her brazen swearing and squirming.
Finally, he brings his other hand into the fold, reaching up to twiddle one of her erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger. If he wasn’t so preoccupied with eating her out, he’d have one of those deliciously pert tits in his mouth right now, but alas, she was well versed in this arena too. Releasing the tender teat and placing his hand just below, he raises it up towards her in a silent request. She takes it willingly, knows exactly what he requires of her, and begins to suckle, pinching and pulling at the other in tandem.
The sight of her working herself in this way has Joel all but ejaculating all over the carpet. Regardless of how many times they had gotten intimate over the course of their union, she always found new ways to surprise him, revealed another side of herself, and turned him on to the point of pain. He wanted, no, needed to come. Now.
"Beautiful...So fuckin' beautiful, you like that honey? Like nursin' yerself for me?"
She gives a long hum of approval, closing her eyes with blissful abandon. With fresh vigour, and without even allowing himself to blink and miss a wink of the glorious scene above him, he goes relentless on her, furiously thrusting not two but three fingers in and out of her sweltering hole, twisting and turning, marvelling at the gush of her fluids and the squelches of his exits and entries. He thumbs at her now very swollen clit with his free hand, alternating between lickings and sucking at whatever parts of her he could reach, massaging her mound, working every part of her in this final sprint to the finishing line.
“Oh fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck, Joel! Baby! Come with me? Come on me please!” she pants, letting her spit-covered nipple fall from her lips.
She jerks her hand out of his hair and swats his thumbing hand away, rubbing herself furiously.
Just as she joins him in bringing herself to the brink of orgasm, he grabs his stiff, pulsating dick and pumps, keeping in time with his still thrusting fingers, burned into the melting pot of her pussy, and as she calls out to him in her ecstasy, he straightens up and explodes across the top of her, covering her easing hand and pelvis with white globules of thick seed.
“Yes, yes...oh fuck yes...” he pants, eyes squeezed shut, balls emptying.
As they both try to catch their breath, Joel reaches over his head and pulls his t-shirt off, wiping up the mess he’d made on her, smiling at her little smirk. The way she looks at him now, one foot resting on the edge of the seat, arm thrown lazily over the top of her head, smug as a pig in shit, makes him want to laugh out loud.
“Hope you’re a good tipper.”
“Oh, I can think of a few things I could do with your tip...”
“You’re ridiculous,” he admonishes good-naturedly.
“Yea, well at least I ain’t boring,” she responds with a wink.