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You bought it on a whim one day when you were walking through that department store downtown. It was black and red, lacy, soft, sexy. You weren’t even sure he’d like it or when he’d get to see it on you, if at all. You usually saw him once every four or five months, though it had been nearly six since the last time he’d rolled through town in that big, black truck of his. You bought it anyway.
Two weeks after you bought the lingerie, he called, told you he’d be there in two days, wanted to know if you were going to be around. Your immediate answer was yes. You never told him no.
So when John slipped the key you’d given him into the lock on your front door, you were waiting for him, the black and red lingerie barely covering your considerable assets, leaning against the wall between the hallway and your living room.
He stopped dead in his tracks, one hand on the door, his duffel in the other. He let out a low whistle, a grin spreading across his face.
“Hey, darlin,” he drawled, tossing his bag to the floor. “You’re lookin good.” He crossed his arms over his chest and winked at you.
You felt heat spread through your chest and into your face, your eyes dropping to the floor. A second later, John’s hand was on your chin, lifting it so he could look into your eyes. He leaned over and kissed you tenderly.
“I’m not joking, you look fantastic,” he whispered, trailing his finger down your neck and along the edge of the lace covering the swell of your breast. He took another step closer, his body close to yours, pressing you into the wall, his hand on your waist, heat radiating from him. “You buy this for me?”
“I did,” you answered, smiling up at him. “Do you like it?”
“Mmm, I do,” John hummed, both hands running over you, caressing you. He took your hand and pulled you after him into living room, stripping off his jacket and kicking off his boots as he walked. He dropped to the couch, pulling you into his lap. He ran his hands over the soft material covering your body, caressing you.
You dragged your nails through the salt and pepper hairs on his cheek, smiling as a growl rumbled through his chest. He dropped his head to your breast, your fingers sliding into his hair, a sigh leaving you as he mouthed your breast through the lacy lingerie.
John’s hands rested on your waist, his hips tipping up and into yours, his arousal obvious. You rocked forward, groaning as his cock jumped in his jeans, straining against the fabric that was barely containing him, pressing into you, the thin silky material of the lingerie now damp with your slick, your own arousal now evident.
He cupped your breasts and nuzzled his face between them, his beard equal parts scratchy and soft as his lips traced the edge of the fabric covering them. He hooked his thumbs in the top and in one deft move, pulled it down, exposing the nipples, his lips closing around one, sucking it between his teeth.
You moaned, digging your knees into the couch on either side of his hips, holding his head to your breast, grinding your hips against him. He pushed a hand between your legs, his fingers caressing you through the soft material, his thumb pressed to your clit.
One hand drifted up your side, his fingers twisted in the thin straps of the lingerie, pulling it down your arm. He released your breast, his lips moving up your neck until they were pressed to your ear.
“I love the way this looks on you, darlin,” he purred, his finger now sliding beneath the tiny black panties, pushing them aside so he could trace along your delicate folds. “But it’d look even better off of you and on the floor.” He caught your earlobe in his mouth, sucking it gently as he continued caressing you.
You nodded your agreement, your lip caught between your teeth, heat flooding you.
“Take it off,” he growled.
It was a command and you were not going to disobey. You pushed yourself to your feet, whimpering slightly at the loss of his touch. You kept your eyes on him as the robe dropped from your shoulders, hooked your fingers in the straps and pulled them completely free of your arms. You pushed the flimsy material down past your hips and let it slide down your legs to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the tiny black panties.
John reached for you, his arm around the back of your thighs, pulling you to him, his forehead against your stomach. He inhaled deeply, mouthing at the cloth still covering you, a low grumble emanating from his chest. He slowly pulled the panties down, his tongue following them, his breath hot against your skin. Your legs nearly gave out when he slipped his tongue between the lips of your pussy, dragging it up, flattening it as he went. He glanced up at you, a smirk on his lips, pushed the black panties down your legs, then fell back onto the couch, pulling you with him, guiding you up his body until you were hovering over his face with his hands on your waist.
“I gotta taste you, baby,” he murmured just before he pulled you down, his tongue entering you, his mouth closing over you.
Your reached out and grabbed the back of the couch with one hand, anything to keep yourself upright, the other hand tangled in John’s hair, holding him to you. His tongue was buried deep inside you, along with one finger, his thumb pressed to your clit, circling it repeatedly. Filthy moans were coming from him as he devoured you and all you could do was hold on for the ride.
Your body was wound so tight that it only took a few minutes for you to come undone, white-hot heat flooding you, encompassing you, the pleasure almost unbearable, the orgasm so intense you felt like you were coming apart.
John held you in place, not letting up, pushing you and pushing you until you’d rocked through two or three orgasms - you were losing count - and you felt like a boneless mess. When he finally released you, it was all you could do not to fall to the floor, instead pushing yourself back enough to stretch out across his chest.
He kissed you, his lips still wet with your slick, rolled you to your side, pushed himself off the couch and quickly stripped off his clothes. He was back on you in a second, pulling your legs around his waist and easing into you, your legs falling open to let him in.
He took his time, a slow in and out, his lips on your shoulders, your neck, your jaw, and finally your mouth, the kiss taking your breath away. His hands were everywhere, the hard, calloused tips of his fingers scratching your skin, the feel of his touch undeniably perfect.
You ran your hand up the side of his face, scratching at his beard, whimpering his name, begging him to fuck you harder. He did as you asked, his hips pistoning faster and faster, slamming into you, burying himself deep inside you until you were coming again, cursing incoherently as the orgasm rolled through you.
John’s teeth sank into the juncture where your shoulder met your neck, marking you, his body tensing as he thrust into you several more times before finally letting loose, grunting his out his own satisfaction.
Afterwards, you wrapped yourself in a blanket, contentedly curled up on the couch, watching John put his clothes back on, wondering how long it would be before you saw him again. Once he was fully clothed, he scooped the discarded lingerie off of the floor and set it beside you, chuckling quietly. He crouched down to kiss you, his lips just brushing over yours.
“Told you it’d look better on the floor,” he chuckled.