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“There’s a movie I want to watch on demand,” he tells me when he walks into the room.
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
After we both shower, we settle into the bed and he sets up the movie. Generally, he and I don’t have the same tastes when it comes to films, and this is no exception. The military story is confusing to me, in part because I don’t keep up with the world enough to know who’s fought who, when and where and why. There are too many wars now a days, with too many bad guys. Which is another reason I don’t have interest in it. Life is already full of sadness; I don’t want it in my entertainment. In no time at all, my head begins to droop.
Looking towards him, his body so warm, my feet so cold, I scoot over and melt myself into him. Whether or not we both assumed tonight we’d be having hot sweaty sex didn’t matter. I am out like a light, the heat of him and the soft pillows at my back, combined with a movie I found boring proving too much for me.
I was out for a while, however long the movie was. When my eyes flutter open, the first thing I see are soft green ones looking right back. Owen is laying on his side facing me, his fingers tracing an invisible line from my hand up to my neck and back.
“How long have you been watching me sleep?” I ask around a yawn.
“Not long enough.” He moves the hair out of my face and tucks it in behind my left ear. “You’re so beautiful, Cris. So beautiful.” His voice is barely a whisper, and there is no question of what he wants. Especially when he leans in and takes my lips softly, his arms around my waist pulling me to him until there is no space between us.
The kiss isn’t soft, but it is slow. Tentative. He’s taking his time exploring, tasting. And so am I. My hands on his shoulders drop slowly down his arms, my fingers tracking every valley of his muscles there.
When he pushes me onto my back, I move my arms around his neck and open my legs to him. With a hand to support his weight, he uses the other to peel off my spaghetti tee and sleep shorts, and his boxers, hardly breaking lip contact during the process.
He enters me then and moves slowly at first. His kiss finally breaks, but his eyes remain glued to mine. It’s a connection that’s deeper than a kiss could have been, and I feel trapped in his gaze. “Owen,” I moan his name as that pressure builds between my legs, and with my heels and hands on his buttocks, I pull him into me harder.
“I love you, Cris.” His climax approaching, his thrusts speed up and he puts his face into my neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. When he comes, he falls onto my body, barely moving off so that I can breathe, our limbs still intertwined. “You didn’t come.”
“No. But it was still amazing. I love you, Owen.” I smile at him in a real content sort of way. There was no expectation of coming for me, not this time. And it didn’t matter. We’d just made love, and it was something so new for us because we only ever fucked. We’d never even tried to have this connection. And it was a wonderful thing.
Owen flipped onto his back and brought me with him, not caring that our bodies were now hot and sticky. I lay my head on his chest and snuggled in, playing with the hair on his chest, listening to the even beat of his heart.
We fell asleep and never moved.
What follows is an entire month of falling in love all over again. There’s that magic, that high that makes you giddy and act the fool when you first meet someone you’re crazy about. That’s how I feel with Owen now.
We often talk about the crazy things we did when we first met, all of the places we had sex. The car out in a parking lot because we got kicked out of a restaurant after being caught trying to get it on in the ladies’ restroom. And that was after we were married!
Then there was the time we were driving down to South Carolina to visit a friend of Owen’s. I’d started fingering myself in the passenger seat, more to torture him than anything. I’d ended up so wet and desperate he’d had to pull over to help get me off. Luckily I-95 was dead that day, with very few cars going by, and none of them police.
Every time we pass each other, we have to make some sort of contact, whether it be a hand reaching out for a slight touch, or a soft caress. Or as is the case right now, a hot make out session in the guest bathroom.
I’d gone in to put away some towels, when Owen pushed inside, too, and closed the door behind him.
“What are you…” is all I have time to say before I am pinned to the sink, his mouth hard against mine. Instinctively I react to him, and I begin to fumble with his t-shirt, tying to divest him of that and then his pants.
He lets me go only to flip me around. “Put your hands on the sink and don’t let go. I want to see your face in the mirror when I fuck you.”
Dear lord! I am dripping wet as he stands behind me and pulls down my pants and underwear until they drop to my ankles. His lids are heavy, the green in his eyes dark as his pupils dilate. A hand comes up between my thighs, and just barely grazes my core before it continues its way up, following the crack of my butt, then back down.
His fingers touch the skin of my pussy oh so softly, never going past the folds. Back and forth they go, over the slit. I want him inside with a desperation that might drive me insane. When his fingers finally open me and he touches the wet nub, I come undone. It’s a hard thing to do, not to cry out because your kid is just in the other room and will come in to check on you if you’re gone for more than five minutes.
He stops his assault on my clit and places his cock at my entrance, pushing in and finishing my climax from the inside. He pounds into me, and when I start to moan a little too loud, he holds a finger to his lips. “Sh.”
I give him a look that says, wait untilyoucome!
But when he does, he’s able to maintain much more control than me, and putting his face in my hair, I can hear only his ragged breathing.
Not two seconds later, there’s a loud knock on the door. “Momma, where’s daddy?” Mia asks.
We both look at each other. We’re flushed, glistening, and completely disheveled.
“Coming out, baby. Wait for me in the playroom,” he calls out to her. “Daddy is helping mommy with something.”
Laughing out loud, we pull ourselves together, and just as I’m leaving the bathroom, Owen smacks me on the butt.
“What was that for?”
“That’s what you get for being too damned hot,” he says.
I stick out my butt at him for another spank, and when he does his hand comes between my legs again and he squeezes. “This was only an appetizer. I want the full coarse tonight.”
