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"So... Where did you get it?"
In response to Frank's question, you look up from the pile of laundry that you are in the process of folding, — mostly his stuff from tour. "Where did I get what?"
The look on your husband's face is serious. Maybe it would be just this side of intimidating, if you didn't know him so well. His bark is a thousand times worse than his bite, — and his bark comes with little lovesick whimpers, too. "That little lacy thing that you had on in the pictures."
You turn back to the clothes, trying to hide the fact that your face is going red from a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. "I went to that new store downtown a few weeks ago," you respond, nonchalantly folding one of his shirts and sitting it on top of the pile.
"You went without me?" Frank presses.
You laugh. "Well, yeah," you say. "You were on tour. I was lonely and bored. Figured it would be as good a time as any to stop by and get you a surprise."
He gives a low chuckle. "I was surprised, alright," he says. "Nothing quite as surprising as opening a text while you're in line at the salad bar and seeing your wife with her tits out."
You toss a pair of balled-up socks at him. "They were not out. I was covered up."
"You call that covered up?" he asks incredulously, tossing the socks back at you.
"I left something to the imagination," you reply, sitting the socks off to the side.
"Well, I was certainly imagining." You cast another glance over at him, only to see a familiar look on his face. Wanting. "I was imagining all sorts of things. And that was just after the first picture."
You grin, shaking out a towel before beginning to fold it. "What about after that?"
"After the second and third, my mind got a little more... Creative, so to speak," he says. "After the fourth one, I was losing it. Couldn't wait to get home and have the real thing." He's quiet for a moment before speaking up again, his tone sounding much more tentative. "So... Can I see it?"
"Maybe later." You stand up, picking up the pile of laundry and carrying it towards the bedroom. You stop on your way towards the stairs to ruffle Frank's hair. "For now, you need to rest. Surely you're tired, after several weeks of nonstop shows."
You can hear him grumbling as you scale the stairs. "I don't want rest," he says. "I got plenty on the plane ride over. I want you."
"All in due time, babe!" you call down the stairs.
You're happy that he can't see the huge smile on your face as you put the clothes in their place, only to open your underwear drawer and retrieve the lingerie set.
You have all intentions of driving him absolutely insane.
-
At the end of the day, Frank concedes to your suggestions of rest, settling for an evening of takeout and movies in bed. You finish your food and lean into him, half-watching the movie with your head resting on his chest.
After a while, you untangle yourself from him and hop out of bed. "Think I'll take a quick shower," you tell him. "Be back in a minute."
"Alright." Though you didn't ask him to, Frank pauses the movie for you and reaches for his phone.
As soon as the bathroom door is closed and locked behind you, you open the drawer. Much to your relief, the lingerie set is still there, neatly folded. You figured it would be, considering you deliberately placed it in the drawer that only contains your things, but still. It just wouldn't do to ruin the surprise.
Just as you promised, you take a quick shower. Afterwards, you brush and dry your hair, spritz on some perfume, and put on a bit of makeup.
Then, of course, there's the lingerie.
You take a moment to examine your reflection.
You really couldn't have picked a better set. The bra and panties consist almost entirely of black lace, with hints of skin peeking through sheer mesh. The garter belt ties it all together. The lace runs across your waist like ivy, fastened to your knee-high stockings by two thin black ribbons.
You feel great, and you look even better.
Having passed your own inspection with flying colors, you ease the door open and step into the bedroom.
Frank's gaze wanders from his phone to you. For a moment, you're worried that his eyes are going to pop out of his head.
His jaw drops as he sits up straighter against the pillows. "Holy shit."
"That sounds like a good reaction." You smile as you climb into his lap nonchalantly. "So, what do you think? Does it live up to the pictures?"
"What kind of question is that? Knew it would be even better in person. Fuck..." His eyes rake over your body, up and down, before seeming to stop on your chest. "You're so fucking beautiful... God... And all this, for me..."
"Just for you, babe." You lean in to kiss him. He meets you halfway, pulling you closer by your waist.
His kiss is wet and hot and deep and just so typical of him after going weeks without seeing you. He kisses you like it's been years since the last time he's done it, like he may never do it again. He kisses you like neither of you need air, like you could just live off of each other if you tried hard enough.
When he finally breaks away, his hands wander across your body. Much to your surprise, he's quite patient. He doesn't grab or press, just gently touches you like you're some fragile, breakable thing. Wild as they are, his eyes contain something that you find it difficult to put a name to, even after all the years you've spent together. You suppose the closest word would be devotion, though you swear it runs even deeper than that.
You grin as he runs his fingers over one of the ribbons on your garter belt. "Wanna take it off?" you murmur.
Much to your surprise, he shakes his head. "Not yet," he says. "There's something I need to do first."
He gently pats your thigh, signaling for you to let him get up. You move off of his lap, watching curiously as he stands up and pulls his overnight bag from under the bed.
"Turns out I have a surprise for you, too," he tells you as he rifles through the bag's contents, still half-packed.
"Yeah?" You peer down from the edge of the bed, intrigued. "And what would that be?"
He doesn't respond until he finds what he's looking for, rising back to his feet.
You eye the camera in his hand with confusion at first.
He lifts it up to his face, aiming it straight at you. "Smile, honey," he commands, peering at you through the viewfinder.
Before you can react, the shutter clicks. A slip of film slides from the bottom of the camera.
Frank grabs the picture, shaking it back and forth a few times before looking at it.
He frowns. "Oh, come on, sweetheart. We can do better than that. You look like a deer in the headlights." He sits the picture aside before lifting the camera up again. "Go on. Pose real pretty for me. I know you can do it. After all, I saw the pictures you took."
Mind catching up with your racing heart, you turn to the side. You fold your legs beneath you before straightening your back, hands resting in the space between your spread thighs. "Like this?"
Frank gives you a hum of satisfaction. "Beautiful."
You hear a telltale click, followed by the whir of the picture being printed.
"That's it," Frank encourages you. "Give me another one, angel. Something sexy."
You grin, positioning yourself on your knees, back arched and arms stretched out in front of you, your hands digging into the mattress. "How about this?"
"That's perfect." Another click and whir.
Frank groans under his breath. "Fuck, baby. You look so good. How about one more?"
"What about..." You turn over on your back and run your hand slowly over your body, finally stopping between your legs. "This?"
He lets out another groan, louder this time. You can already feel the heat pooling between your thighs as he snaps another picture.
You aren't actually touching yourself, of course, — unlike the picture you had taken in a similar pose a few weeks ago and sent to Frank thirty minutes or so before his set. Still, the way that he responds makes it sound like he's getting his own personal X-rated performance, — which, you suppose, he's about to.
Once that picture prints, he climbs back into bed with you and kisses you again, even harder than last time. "Okay," he mutters as he pulls back. "Now I want to take it off."
He removes the garters first, followed by the panties. Finally, he takes off the bra, stopping to grab your tits. You give a breathy moan as he kneads the skin, his tattooed, calloused fingers brushing over your nipples.
"You make such pretty sounds, too," he comments. "Come on, baby. Wanna hear you."
You tilt your head back as he gives you another possessive squeeze, only to hear the camera click again.
Your eyes wander down to his hand, still holding onto the camera. Frank dives for your neck, pressing a long kiss just above your shoulder before moving upwards.
You wrap your arms around him as he pushes you back into the pillows. His mouth travels over your body, seemingly dead set on tasting every inch of your skin. You know that you won't just have hickeys on your neck in the morning, but on your hips and thighs, too. Every bit of you, marked by a reminder of him.
He meets your eyes as you tug his T-shirt over his head before reaching for his belt. He kicks aside his jeans and underwear before covering your body with his again, his lips returning to yours as he positions himself between your spread legs.
You wrap a leg around his hip, attempting to urge him closer to where you need him. Much to your dismay, he pulls back. "Wait."
You simply respond with an irritated groan.
Meanwhile, Frank grins like the cat who caught the canary, lifting the camera up once again. "This is one hell of a view."
Despite your initial eyeroll, you look into the camera's lens. You can only imagine what you look like, — completely naked, lipstick smeared, pupils blown wide. A thrill rushes through you when you realize that you will soon be able to see for yourself.
For now, though, Frank tosses the picture aside, kissing you again before pushing inside of you.
You gasp, clawing at his back. Though you know that seven weeks is little more than a blip in the long run, it feels like it's been an eternity since he's fucked you. You're greedy, wanting more of him, even though you're as close to him right now as you could possibly get.
Still, you try your hardest to hold him even closer as he sets an even rhythm.
It all feels so right, like you're exactly where you need to be. His hips press against yours like puzzle pieces clicking together. Your eyes wander over his tattooed chest before you lean in, running your tongue over the ink. You feel a spark of satisfaction as you feel the groan from deep in his chest.
"Fuck," he curses as you press harder against him. He thrusts into you particularly hard, hitting your G-spot.
You let out a broken moan, your head falling back against the pillow as your eyes flutter closed.
"Christ. You're perfect." He reaches for the camera again. He just holds it for a moment, his finger hovering over the shutter button as he keeps up his pace.
"Wanna take a picture of you when you come for me," he says. "Want you to see what it looks like when you come all over my cock. That's it, baby. So good for me, fuck..."
You hear the snap as soon as you fall over the edge. The fact that he's immortalizing this moment, — you, completely blissed out as he fucks you, — seems to make your orgasm all the more intense.
Even as you're coming down, you feel like you're on fire. You still want more. Whatever he has to offer, you'll take it. You are totally and completely his in every possible way.
"Such a good girl," he praises you before abruptly pulling out. You whine at the feeling of emptiness, just before he nudges you, — gentle, despite the fact that he was just fucking you at a bruising pace.
"Turn over," he orders. "Hands and knees."
Despite your trembling, you manage to oblige him.
As soon as you're in position, he slams into you again, eliciting a breathless gasp from you.
He remains still for a moment. "You good?"
You nod. "Yeah," you manage. "Just... Move, Frank, fuck..."
He clicks his tongue at you. "Oh, no, baby girl," he says, his thumb brushing lightly against your hip. "You are not going to get bossy with me. Not tonight."
Before you can offer a response, he tightens his grip around your hipbone, grabbing hard enough to leave a bruise.
You let out a string of high-pitched sounds as he pounds into you. He is relentless, his pace never faltering. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, Frank's groans, and your moans, quickly descending into helpless whimpering.
"Frank," you whine. "Gonna come again..."
"No, you're not." He releases your hip, only for his hand to come to rest beneath your chin. "You're gonna have to beg for that, baby. I was generous enough to let you come once, and how did you repay me?"
You feel your throat beginning to tighten. "I—"
His grip tightens around your chin. "You fucking smarted off at me," he practically growls. "I won't be making that mistake again. You'll either have to be a good girl and take what I give you, or..." His hold relaxes, leaving him to gently stroke your cheek. "You can beg real pretty for me. Let me know that you deserve it."
You swallow hard as his hand travels back down your spine, eliciting a shiver as he begins thrusting in and out of you at a slower pace. "Please," you mutter quietly. "Please let me come..."
"You're gonna have to be louder than that, baby," Frank says, speeding up ever-so-slightly. "Come on. Let me hear how fucking desperate you are."
"Please!" The plea comes out sounding a bit like a scream as the warmth deep in your stomach spreads further, warning you of your impending second climax. Much to your surprise, you feel a tear slide slowly down your face.
Shit. You're fucking crying.
"Please let me come," you continue to beg. "I'm sorry I mouthed off... I won't do it again, I promise..."
"Good... Fucking... Girl." Frank lets out a shaky groan, squeezing your waist again as he thrusts particularly hard into you. "That's it. Come for me, baby. Fuck, wish I had a video camera. Would record you getting off... Fucking crying while I fuck you..."
You let out a sobbing moan as you fall apart for a second time. This time, Frank stills inside you, muttering a garbled string of curses as he follows you over the edge.
You come down slowly, panting. Frank lets out a shaky sigh before pulling out and collapsing beside you. You have no issue following his lead, nestling your head between his arm and chest.
"My pretty girl." He presses a kiss to the side of your head before tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "You okay?"
You nod. "Yeah," you reply shakily. "Think I need another shower, though."
"I think I'll be joining you." He kisses your lips in a terribly chaste manner considering what you had just done before pulling away with a sly grin on his face. "But first..."
He reaches for the camera, sitting discarded beside of him, and angles it at the two of you. It is at this moment that you remember the other instant photos scattered around the bed, in various stages of development.
You wrinkle your nose, staring into the lens. "Jesus Christ, Frank..."
"Shh."
As soon as you see his finger hovering over the shutter button, you move to bury your face in his chest. "Frank..." you protest.
The click sounds before you can fully obscure your face, followed by the camera spitting out the picture.
Frank chuckles, shaking the photo back and forth. "There," he says, satisfaction dripping from his voice. "A memento."
You grumble as you look up at the picture. Of course, you look like a total mess, — mascara trailing down your cheeks, hair a wreck, lipstick worn away except for a faint reddish tint. Meanwhile, Frank looks like he might be in the running for the happiest man on the planet.
You shove him lightly as you roll away from his side. "You're the worst."
"Yeah, yeah." He sits up, picking up the various photos scattered around you. "Look, though."
You do look.
Seven pictures. One of you staring blankly at the camera. Three of you posing at Frank's enthusiastic encouragement. Two of you, lost in the throes of passion. And one of the godforsaken aftermath.
Frank chuckles, placing the pictures on the bedside table. "I'm gonna start carrying these in my wallet," he declares.
"The hell you are," you reply before tugging at his hand, pulling him along with you to wash away the evidence of your impromptu photoshoot.