Ultra Strokes

by Delilah Devlin

  Tonight, she’d decided to give him a wakeup call. Remind him that he wasn’t alone. That he had responsibilities at home to consider.

  Only now, she felt foolish. Desperate. Tears burned her eyes, but she lifted her chin, refusing to let her humiliation make her cower.

  Brent strode toward her, his expression neutral. His firm lips tight and crimped. When he stood in front of her, he snagged her wrist, pulled her across the threshold, then shoved the door to close it.

  He towered over her despite the heels—the only item of clothing she’d worn this night besides her abandoned coat. His gaze swept her again, but this time, she noted the flare of his nostrils. Did he catch the scent of the perfume he’d gifted her with last Christmas?

  After she’d opened the gift, he’d held out his hand for the bottle, then tilted it to wet his finger. He’d traced a path downward, between her breasts. That had been the last time they’d gotten wild and reckless together. Since then, sex had been perfunctory, an afterthought once they fell into their bed at night.

  His intense gaze bored into hers. His pupils expanded, darkening his eyes.

  Her own body reacted in opposition to the tension rolling off him—liquefying, melting toward him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I thought you were alone.”

  He didn’t answer, but lifted one hand, palm up, and cupped a breast. His thumb flicked the tight, pearled tip. “Lou’ll be discreet, but what would you have done if I’d had the whole team in here?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Given you a lap dance?”

  He snorted, then sighed. “Lily, have I been neglectful?” he asked, his voice gruff.

  “I’ve missed you, Brent.”

  “Baby, I’m home every night.”

  She shrugged. “You’re there, but…you’re not.”

  His jaw tightened. He dropped his hand and stepped back.

  Damn, was he really that angry with her, that disappointed that he’d reject her now? Lily blinked and lifted her chin higher, feigning pride when it lay in tatters all around her. “I’ll go home. I apologize again.”

  “Did I say that you could leave?”

  Brent kept his voice even and plunged his hands deep into his pockets to keep from touching her again. He still couldn’t believe she’d done this. Lily was modest, overly so, given they’d been married now for nearly ten years. Every evening, she showered alone, then turned off the bathroom light before entering the bedroom in darkness. He’d thought maybe she was a little insecure about the changes two pregnancies had wrought on her slender frame. He knew it had taken a lot of nerve for her walk naked into his office. To have the moment spoiled by Lou had to be humiliating. But he wasn’t going to rush to reassure her.

  When he’d seen her, his shock had turned into instant arousal. But the more he’d steeled his features, the more interesting were her reactions.

  Her breaths were sharp little gusts. Her nipples were tight, the tips flushing a deep rose. She probably didn’t even know it, but her thighs were rubbing together, slowly. He’d bet money her pretty, trimmed pussy was very, very wet.

  Perhaps tonight was just what they both needed to add a little spice to their lives. And he knew just how he wanted to start.

  He walked back to his desk then turned and leaned his butt against the edge. “You’re wearing red.”

  She glanced down at her feet at the tall spiked heels then glanced up.

  He shook his head.

  Her eyelids blinked, mirroring her confusion, then they dipped, and finally, she gave him that look. The one that flirted from beneath her eyelashes. So feminine, that look, and filled with confidence. Her tongue rimmed her red mouth.

  Brent unbuckled his belt and drew it slowly from the loops. When it hung to the floor, he gave it a little wave and a snap. “Come over here, Lily,” he murmured.

  “Gonna spank me?” she asked, stepping out, her foot turned inward followed by the other, pushing her hips to wag deliciously side to side as she strolled toward him. So there was a little extra flesh on those hips than he remembered. Her belly was a little less firm. Her breasts more rounded and not as perky as they’d been. But he’d done that. His stamp lay all over her feminine frame.

  “I haven’t decided just how to punish you. But you need reminding that this is mine,” he said, spreading his fingers and clamping one cheek of her ass as she sidled closer.

  Her teeth bit into her lower lip, and she flirted again with her baby blues. “I can make it up to you.” Her fingertip glided down the front of his trousers, curving over the bulge building there.

  “Wipe that red all over my dick, and maybe I’ll let you off light,” he growled.

  Her lips twitched, but she flicked back her hair. Then, holding his gaze, she slid slowly to her knees, her hands gliding from his chest to his belly. She thumbed open his pants and dragged down his zipper. Then she parted the sides of the fabric, burrowed into the opening in his boxers, and slowly pulled his cock from his pants.

  Brent gripped the edge of the desk and leaned back as her honey-colored hair masked her movements. He couldn’t see, but he felt her humid breath against the tip. Her wet tongue lapped around and around the cap, tickling under the ridge, then over the top again. She pulled back.

  “How are your knees?” he asked.

  “Will you let me stop if I say they hurt?”

  They didn’t. He could tell by the saucy slant of her eyes. She was testing, pushing to see how firm he’d be if she didn’t please him. How unexpected. How intriguing. Sex between them hadn’t held any surprises in a long, long time. Not that it wasn’t satisfying. Not that he wasn’t happy with her. However, now his mind and body buzzed with new possibilities.

  He combed through her hair then dug his fingers into her scalp. “Don’t stop until I’m ready to blow.”

  That wicked tongue darted out, did a circle around her drenched mouth, then slid out of sight.

  Brent couldn’t contain his moan. Or the growl that rattled through him at her wanton smile.

  Her soft warm hands wrapped around his shaft, giving him a squeeze, and for the first time ever, he corrected her. “Squeeze harder. Give it a little twist.”

  Her eyes widened, but she did as he instructed, then glanced up again. “Like that?”

  It was damn near perfect, but he didn’t want her knowing that just yet. He placed a hand over both of hers and squeezed just a little harder, then began to slowly slide her hands up and down his shaft. “I’m not fragile. It won’t break. If I make noises when you touch me, it’s because I ache for it, sweetheart.”

  “I’ve been doing it wrong?”

  “Not wrong. Just not my preference.”

  “And you couldn’t tell me?” she whispered.

  He stayed silent, realizing that he’d had her on a pedestal all these years. His pretty little wife. His perfect trophy. Perfect mom. Never a full-blooded partner, because he hadn’t thought she’d want everything he could bring. “I’m sorry. I should have.”

  “Damn straight,” she said, which made him smile since she rarely cursed.

  Suddenly, he didn’t want the blowjob. Didn’t want her giving to him again. He slid his hands under her arms and forced her up. He bent his head to rub his lips against hers, taking the gloss, the red stain onto his mouth. With a quick turn, he pushed her against the desk, forcing her to arch her back. He rubbed her nipples with his mouth, painting them with the rich color.

  Then he moved down her belly, sucking against her skin, nipping, until her belly jumped, and she gasped. “Brent!”

  He reached her mound and slid his tongue into her slit. Her legs trembled, and she melted, sliding limply to the surface of the desk. But that was okay, because he had her. He shoved his arms behind her knees and raised them, pushing them higher, parting her so that he could stare at her cunt. He hadn’t gone down on her in ages. And why hadn’t he? Did he expect her to ask for it? She wouldn’t because she was always eager to please hi
m. He’d been a selfish bastard.

  Bending, he thrust his tongue deeper into her slit, found her entrance, and snaked his tongue inside, tasting her saltwater flavor. Her scent, redolent with her light musk and a hint of the perfume he’d given her last Christmas, made him harder, more desperate to please her.

  Her fingers clenched his hair, pulling him closer. He smiled against her sex, and then lavished it with strokes—trailing down the outer lips, flicking the edges of the thin quivering folds framing her opening. Her fingers pulled harder, stinging his scalp, and he clamped his mouth around her clitoris, suckling like a starving man and sinking deeper into the erotic pleasure of eating his wife out.

  She was his. His to take. His to scorn or ignore. His to own, if he was man enough to prove it. “Baby, your pussy’s so wet. Come for me. Do it now.”

  She mewled like a kitten. A sound he’d never heard before. Not from her. Her thighs crept up, hugging his shoulders. He cupped the soft halves of her ass and caressed her, massaging her while he plied her clit with licks and flicks and bites that had her bouncing in his hands.

  “Oh God, Brent! Now. I’m coming now!”

  And then he felt her shudder, a slow ripple that shook her belly and breasts, and tightened the thighs bucking on his shoulders.

  He didn’t stop until she sobbed. Then he lunged upward, gathered her close, and kissed her. When he pulled away, he held her gaze.

  Her eyes shimmered with tears. Her soft, ravaged mouth trembled then stretched slowly into a smile. “That shade becomes you, darling.”

  Her gaze was on his mouth, and he gave her a lopsided smile. “I love you, Lily.”

  “Prove it,” she whispered. “Come inside me now. Fuck me hard.”

  The F-bomb fell effortlessly from her mouth, leaving him feeling bemused. “Who are you?”

  Her gaze locked with his. “Can I tell you who I want to be?”

  “Please.” He nuzzled her ear then pulled away again so that he could see her expression.

  Her fingers pinched his chin and pulled it, forcing his stare to follow as she trailed her hand down his chest and belly, until her fingers wrapped around him and guided him inside her.

  His eyelids drifted downward at the pleasure of sinking into her slick heat, but he resisted closing them completely, because her gaze was steady, her features tense. He knew he needed to pay attention to what she had to say, that it was important. But damn, he wanted to rut. He tensed inside her, pushed as deep as he could go, then gave her a little nod. “Tell me. Tell me what you want to be, baby.”

  Her chin firmed. Her gaze snapped. “I want to be your lover, Brent. The woman you rush home to every night to bang.” One brow arched. “Yeah, I said that. And guess what? I have a whole new vocabulary I want to share. I want to be fucked, plowed, drilled, every way you can imagine, and a few ways I’ve been reading up on. Because I want to be your everything. I won’t be ignored. I won’t be compartmentalized. I’m your wife, yes. The mother of your two children. But I will also be your favorite fuck.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus…” His cock swelled, crowding against her inner walls. She was hot, wet, grinding against him—driving him out of his mind. “Baby…fuck…”

  Her hands slid over his chest, up to his neck, and she tucked them inside his loosened shirt to rub him there. “It’s okay. You don’t have to try to talk. Just do it, Brent. Fuck me like you mean it.”

  He gave a groan and circled his hips, dragging his cock around and around inside her, letting those sexy muscles clamping around him drag along his shaft. Then he gathered her closer, his hands clenching her soft bottom, and stroked toward her core, not caring that the motions shook his desk and sent his inbox flying toward the floor. He banged her the way she said she wanted it, loosing the sweet violence until his balls tightened painfully, and he gave a shout.

  Release was a sweet agony, pulsing, hot streams filling her, lubricating her channel, lending a moist punctuation to his waning strokes.

  When he finally stopped, his chest was heaving. He rested atop her, loving the way she petted his hair and shoulders.

  Her lips glided against his temple. “I love you.”

  Taking a deep breath to slow his heartbeats, he pushed up on his elbows. Her mouth was blurred, messy, glossy. Irresistible. He kissed her passionately, like he hadn’t since they’d first married. “Thanks for doing this tonight, sweetheart. I didn’t realize until now how far apart we’ve drifted.”

  Her mouth curved. “Not mad?”

  “Humbled that I matter so much to you.” He cleared his throat and gave her a wry smile. “Do we have to rush home?”

  “The sitter said to take my time.” She arched a brow. “What do you have in mind?”

  “A hotel room. I’d really like to have that lap dance. And to play with your pretty cunt a little more.”

  Lily laughed, the sound surprising her because it was throaty, sexy—so unlike her, but freeing just the same. She felt like a goddess, basking in her husband’s hot, intense stare. She quivered, just a little, at that hint of restrained violence still coiled in his tight body. She’d surprised him. But he’d surprised her too. He didn’t know it, but there was a true dominant male hiding there inside him—something else she’d been reading up on. “Promise you’ll talk dirty to me? I liked the way you said that word.”

  His grin didn’t lighten the harshness of his features. “I’ll give you the words, but I’d prefer to show you just how dirty I can be, sweetheart.”

  Lily groaned then gave another laugh. When he pulled free, she lay there, sprawled on his desk, her legs splayed, because he couldn’t seem able to tear his glance away from her “pretty cunt.” If this was what he needed, she didn’t mind. Not when the reward warmed her to her toes.

  He held out his hand. “Up. Now.”

  She gave him her hand and let him pull her from the desk. She teetered for a moment on her heels then milked the moment by falling against his chest. Cotton couldn’t contain the heat of his skin. A smack landed on her bottom, and she gasped, flashing him a wide-eyed glance, but pleased beyond words.

  He tucked his finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Yeah, I’ll give you more of that, seeing as you liked it so much.”

  Lily swallowed hard and nodded. “What I liked was that you didn’t ask.”

  His mouth curved. His gaze narrowed as he raked her with one last glance. “Get dressed.”

  She didn’t hesitate again, warming to his clipped, impatient tone. Maybe she’d taken the initiative this night, but Brent had more than risen to the challenge. She’d cede this battle, and every one after it, as she tweaked him into the lover she wanted, because after all these years, she’d finally figured out what they both needed.

  Brent led her through the door, bent and swiped her coat from the floor, then held it for her to slide her arms inside. He fastened the buttons down the front and cinched her belt tight. “When we get to my car, I want your bare ass on the seat.”

  When he turned to precede her out the door rather than hold it for her politely, she melted again. Yeah, she’d leave a great big wet spot on the leather. And maybe she’d flash her boobs at the concierge when they got to the hotel.

  Tonight, she’d found her inner vixen…and her body’s master.

  *

  Eager, Brent let himself in the front door. The children were staying with his parents for the night. Lily had told him that at breakfast and given him “the look.” He’d been hard all day thinking about all the things they could do inside the comfort of their home without having to worry about being interrupted. And he’d set a plan in motion.

  He walked softly through the house, noted the table set for two—candles not yet lit—the smell of pasta cooking in the oven. He climbed the stairs, his heart already drumming, his cock thickening more. At the bedroom door, he gave it a nudge and stood in the doorframe, looking at his pretty wife sitting at her vanity, stroking perfume on her wrists, and wearing nothing.

  Perf
ect.

  Keeping his expression remote, he strode toward her, stopping when he was behind her and their gazes met in the glass. “My dinner’s not ready,” he said, his voice cool.

  Her gaze lowered in mock subservience. “I was lazy today. As soon as the children left, I soaked in the tub.”

  “Did you do anything else? Anything that would displease me?”

  She bit her lower lip—likely to capture her smile before it spread across her mouth. “I made myself come.”

  “With your fingers?”

  She shook her head. “Um, with the handle of your flogger.”

  He drew a short, sharp breath. Not something he had to feign because he had an instant vision of what that must have looked like. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a squeeze. “The flogger’s my property. So is your cunt. You know what happens next.”

  Her gaze was solemn, but the hard spikes of her nipples told him she’d been waiting for punishment, dying by inches until he came home to deliver it.

  He lifted his hands and walked to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he patted his knee. “Now, Lily.”

  Again, she bit her mouth, but she rose and walked to him, her nude body gleaming with a generous application of body oil. His hands itched to smooth over her body. Her scent nearly drove him mad.

  When she stood beside him, she lowered and bent over his lap.

  Rather than begin the swats that warmed her ass and her sex—a lovely prelude to sex—he laid his hand on her bottom and held still.

  She pushed up to look back at him, a question in her eyes.

  “We’ve been doing this for a couple of months, Lily. You disobey. I apply punishment. We fuck like rabbits. Is it becoming our new routine?”

  A frown marred her brow, and she made a move to push up from his lap, but he pushed two fingers inside her—his gauge to her true state of arousal.