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I feel better when my hair and makeup is done, she'd informed me though I hadn't asked, figuring that whatever she did, she was entitled to if she handled the boys and the house all day every day without a single complaint.
I had to admit, she looked fucking good. I mean I thought she looked good with a goddamn spit-cloth over her shoulder and greasy hair, but there was something about this Helen that had my cock stirring inappropriately as I watched her. She wasn't even dressed up, in a simple pair of jeans and a tee. It wasn't about the look. It was about how she felt, her confidence drifting into the air around her as she ran her hand over the surface of the bar, heavily lacquered, just ready to host countless glasses of booze when we opened in a few months.
It hadn't been a hardship, all said and done. The liquor license itself having been a bigger investment than the rent or the renovations.
"Bars are supposed to be dark. No one is going to end up going home with someone if they see them in the harsh, real light," she told me, lips twitching.
"You're the expert," I told her, moving across the room, backing her up into the bar, liking it way too much when her eyes immediately went hooded.
"Oh, gee, I don't think you should be getting so close to me. The boss could walk in at any moment," she purred at me, eyes wicked.
"We had better be quick then," I suggested, turning her, pushing her forward over the bar, her ass sticking out toward me.
I knew her body as well as I knew my own.
Better, even.
And I knew by the way she was shifting so that her thighs were closer together that her pussy was already slick with need for me.
But that didn't mean I was going to give her what she wanted.
Not yet at least.
My body moved in behind her, my hips pressing into her ass, hard cock sliding against her cleft, but the thick material of our jeans making it impossible for her to get the contact she needed.
My hand tracked up her spine, feeling the little notches against my palm before my fingers found her hair, soft and free, almost falling to her ass. Gathering it, I wrapped it twice around my hand, using it to yank her back, her back arching up, her air hissing out of her in the pain/pleasure mix.
"Charlie, please," she begged, shamelessly grinding her ass back into me.
Didn't matter how many times I had heard that exact phrase, it never lost its edge, it never made it easier to try to control myself, take my time with her.
Especially on the rare occasions when we knew we wouldn't be interrupted.
There was no one here to be getting into brawls, to climb and then fall off the dining table, to bang on the door demanding his fifth snack of the evening.
The front door was locked.
There was no one inside.
We were completely alone without a care in the world.
I planned to take my time with her.
Drive her wild.
Enjoy her coming around my fingers, mouth, then finally, cock.
My free hand tracked down her back, snagging her jeans and panties at the waistband, and dragging them roughly down. Just over her ass, just giving me the access I needed.
"Charlie," she whimpered, arching her ass up toward me, begging me for fulfillment.
My hand moved over her hips, pulling back, then slapping down hard, the whack a sound that echoed across the empty space, as enticing as her hiss of pain and moan of pleasure as she wiggled slightly, silently begging for more.
I gave her another slap before thrusting two fingers unexpectedly inside her wet pussy, feeling her walls clench around me in surprised pleasure.
"Charlie, please," she whimpered, hands balled into fists on the smooth surface of the bar, head still arched back because of my fist in her hair.
"You want it, take it," I told her, keeping my fingers stubbornly still inside her.
So many years together, seeing each other at our best, worst, and everything in between had stripped her of the shyness she used to have regarding sex. She shamelessly rocked her hips, getting what little motion the position allowed of her, but enough. Enough that her walls started tightening around me, her breathing getting shallow and hitched, her whimpers turning into moans.
I gave her what she needed, curling my fingers inside her so that the next time she moved, they scraped against her G-spot, making her come with a choked cry, her walls spasming around my fingers, her legs sagging a little, her whole body held up by her abdomen being draped over the bar.
Recovering, she tried to pull against my hold, tried to get to me. Because Helen had always been a woman who gave as good as she got, and I knew her mind was on taking me in her mouth. It was a rare thing that I would turn down the chance to feel her mouth on me, but I had other plans this time, ones the meant I had to release her hair so I could lower myself down behind her, sucking her clit into my mouth before she could even think of taking advantage of her freedom.
