by J. C. Grant
“Actually, I don't. I'm told it's for my birthday. For all I know, you're learnin' how to murder me. All you watch is zombie stuff and... anything with anybody gettin' murdered. You're probably watching Snapped, planning how to kill me.” He almost kept a straight face. Almost, but there was a hint of a smile showing.
“You're ridiculous,” I muttered, trying to suppress my smile.
He grabbed the laptop abruptly.
“Why do you wanna know how much I weigh?" He looked between the screen and me a couple of times before he asked, “Skydiving?
“Why can't you let your birthday present be a surprise?”
“Do you have any idea how long it's been since I got a birthday present?” His expression incredulous. “Since I was sixteen. My mom couldn't afford to get me one at seventeen, and she was too sick.”
He hadn't had a birthday present since he was a teenager. It put his excitement about Thanksgiving and Christmas in perspective for me. I hadn't actually let myself think about the details of when he would've last celebrated a holiday with anyone else.
I felt bad for teasing him with the skydiving, trying to throw him off track of his real present—the lap dance and tattoo. And now they didn't seem that impressive as far as birthday presents went.
Taking the laptop from him, I shut it and placing it on the ottoman before crawling into his lap. Restraining myself from using the moves I'd already learned, it was beyond tempting.
“Well, it's not going to be a lot. Because you kinda have everything.”
“I just need you.” His big hands landed on my hips, then smoothed over my curves.
His sincere response made me feel awful. Christmas had been pretty simple since we were away and hadn't had time to do any real shopping. Turned out, I loved it, focusing on spending time together, enjoying each other not material things. But now, I was starting to have second thoughts on not getting him a lavish gift for his birthday.
“That's not a present. You always have me.”
“Feels like a present every damn day,” he said huskily, making my core pulse.
That's all it ever took, his hands on me, his voice, and my body was primed, ready to fuck.
But I had to focus.
“I'm going out later tonight. I need you to promise to not ask or follow me.”
“Not gonna happen.” His voice was rough and absolute as his hands became more aggressive, groping, pulling me against him.
“It's for your birthday tomorrow. Please let me surprise you.”
His eyes darted away, considering my request, reluctance and annoyance obvious in his expression. Finally, his gaze moved back to me.
“Fergus is going?”
I nodded.
He made a displeased sound before saying, “All right.”
Truth was, it was a courtesy ask, because I had no intention of taking my phone or my car.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
David
I rolled out of bed as the soft glow of dawn filtered into our bedroom. Pulling on my sweats, I gestured for Chance to follow me. I was determined to make breakfast before Austin could. Yesterday, she'd begged me to let her cook breakfast for my birthday. I'd agreed, but I just couldn't let her do it.
I'd never been in a situation where someone else tried to take care of me, but it turned out Austin cooking and cleaning for me was my trigger. Her doing anything my mother did for my father made me feel worthless, brought out a latent rage and a deep self-loathing.
I just couldn't let her do it.
And I'd been on edge, struggling to deal with her me time, her classes, her trainer. I wasn't stupid; I knew the trainer was about getting in shape for the show. It had nothing to do with me leaving. And her classes... well, I hoped it was for me, but two hours, three times a week? It was hard to believe Austin needed that much instruction for anything.
Then there was our upcoming separation. I'd been counting on being able to convince Austin to come with me, that wasn't happening now.
But I was keeping my mouth shut. I felt like I was on thin ice. She still wasn't thrilled about my tattoo. Admittedly, I'd handled it all wrong. I wish I'd talked to her first, talked her into it, because what I needed... I wasn't getting from having her name tattooed on me. I wanted my name on her.
I'd considered just asking her outright, explaining why it was important to me, but I still caught her glaring at mine from time to time.
Quickly and quietly, I went through my morning routine, letting Chance out, feeding him, then making our breakfast. I forced myself to shove those insecurities down and focus on what I was getting for my birthday.
Last night, I hadn't kept my word, tracking her phone twenty minutes after she left. Turned out it was here. Apparently, Austin was aware I couldn't help myself.
When I entered our bedroom, she was sitting up, about to get out of bed.
“No, no, no, sit down. I beat you to it,” I said, bringing the tray over to her.
“David.”
At her disappointed voice, I felt a twinge in my chest. I was tired of disappointing her.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart.”
“Are you ever going to let me take care of you?” she asked, getting comfortable, leaning back against the headboard.
“You take care of me every day.” I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her full lips. “And if you really want, you can fuck me later.”
“Happy birthday, babe,” she whispered against my lips.
“Thank you,” I breathed, getting one final kiss before going to my side.
“Well, I had this whole thing planned out. Now, I have to re-plan,” she admonished quietly.
I forced myself not to press her about my present, not when I'd already fucked up part of it.
We ate in silence, the TV the only sound in the room. Austin took her time eating, but once she finished, she was fidgety, anxious. Feigning chill, I drank my coffee and stared at the TV.
“Okay... Just give me a few minutes,” she stumbled out.
A huge grin broke out on my face, from her nervousness as much as my excitement at getting something from her. That's what it was, that's what meant so much. It was from her. It didn't matter what it was.
Thirty minutes later, she walked in a completely different person. Confident, strong, and a little dangerous. My own femme fatale in a short silky black robe and five-inch black heels, dragging a dining room chair with her.
She positioned the chair next to her, turning her back to me and my insides warmed.
Instantly, I knew this was because of my request in Aspen. She'd been straddling my lap one afternoon while we were alone, and I'd asked her to give me a lap dance, but at her panicked expression, I took over, afraid I'd triggered her in some way.
She wasn't panicked now as she looked over her shoulder at me with a half-lidded gaze.
Then I heard the first seductive chords of “Body Party” by Ciara coming through the ceiling speakers.
“Are you ready for your birthday present, Mr. Taylor?”
“Oh, yeah,” I growled, leaning back against the headboard, entwining my fingers behind my head.
She turned back, letting the robe fall to her feet. My cock jumped at the sight.
Fuck me.
Hints of a black bra peeked out from under her cascade of dark hair, but what had my blood racing to my dick was a strip of black satin wrapped around her hips, running up between her ass cheeks, coming together in a bow, as if her ass was my present. Literally.
“Oh, yeah.” My voice was rough and low, barely above a whisper.
I watched as she started moving to the slow, sensual beat, her hips rocking as she worked her way down low. I'd never been a fan of strippers, but having my wife as my own personal stripper... I was down with that.
My cock swelled as I watched her legs extend, giving me an amazing view of that perfect ass. Looking at me over her shoulder, her lips parted and her tongue peeked out. She was my little vixen, devilish, mischievous, and teasing.
I huge grin split my face. Every second of those classes had been worth it if this was the result—Austin being more open and playful, confident.
My breath left me in a rush and my insides tightened as she straddled the chair, giving it a filthy lap dance, still holding my gaze. Her eyes narrowed, taunting me, teasing me, telling me, Enjoy the show, because that's all you'll get.
My cock hardened painfully, desperate to feel her body moving like that against me. My fingers dug into my skin as I strained not to react, restraining myself from grabbing my dick and stroking it to the erotic show before me. An erotic show created for me.
Her hands slowly glided over her hips and thighs, up over her stomach, cupping her breasts while her body moved to the sensual beat, damn near hypnotizing me.
Holy fuck, I’d never seen anything so erotic in my life. It was like a punch in the gut. She was seducing me without a single touch.
She was never dancing in public again.
Never. Fucking. Ever.
That shit was for me now.
A low groan tore from my throat as her hands moved down over her stomach, disappearing between her thighs. I never wanted to be a chair before, but...
Goddamn, the way she moved. It was beyond anything I'd ever imagined. Sure, I'd asked for a lap dance, but this was way past that. My body burned with need as I waited for my invitation to be next.
My breathing turned shallow and my heart rate sped up as she held my gaze. My body was strung tight with anticipation as she stood, pushing the chair away and crawling up on the bed, arching her back, her ass high, swinging back and forth as she made her way to me. But it was the look in her eyes that had my body vibrating with need. That look... A mix of innocence and seduction.
Fuck me, what all had that woman taught her?
“Happy birthday, baby,” she breathed as she pulled the covers down, exposing my lap and the ridiculous hard-on tenting my pants.
I let out a ragged breath, speechless.
Still wearing those five-inch heels, she straddled my legs, crawling up my body, until her hands settled on my shoulders, her silk covered pussy on my dick. She slowly let her full weight come down as she worked her hips in a figure eight, grinding on me. My eyes rolled up for a second. I could feel the heat of her cunt even through my pants.
“Fuck, sweetheart, I love my birthday present,” I breathed as she leaned in, bracing her forearms against my pecs, bringing our bodies flush together, her face and full lips only inches from mine.
My eyes darted between those pouty rose colored lips and her emerald green gaze. Her eyes were so expressive and vibrant, they almost didn’t seem real. I got lost in them frequently—in the fantasies they promised me and the dreams they had already fulfilled.
Next thing I knew her lips were at my ear, her hair spilling over my chest and shoulder. “Good. There’s still more,” she whispered before pulling my earlobe into her mouth with a slight nip, sending goosebumps racing down my neck.
Unable to resist anymore, my hands moved, escaping their locked position behind my head, palming her ass, squeezing.
“No.” She grabbed my hands, placing them on either side of me on the bed. “No touching.”
At her taunting, sing-song voice, a frustrated groan rumbled up out of me. She was seriously overestimating my restraint if she thought I could keep up this game. It was my birthday, I deserved some sex from my hot ass wife, who was torturing my dick like a fucking sadist.
Her little hands moved back to my neck, roaming over my traps and shoulders as she worked her hot, tight body against me. Rolling. Grinding. I fisted the sheets, struggling to play along, struggling not to take over.
Her nose grazed mine as she slowly shifted, moving up until her full breasts were only inches from my face. She palmed them, gently pushing them together, as if her bra needed help.
It didn’t.
“You trying to make me come in my pants again?” I gritted, quietly.
“Not necessarily.”
Bullshit.
My jaw clenched as my fingers dug into my palm.
Smirking, she slowly took off her bra. My gaze locked on her tits as she leaned to the side, letting them graze across my chest. Next thing I knew, she was holding out a bottle of coconut oil.
It took a minute for me to catch on. The oil. Her breasts still inches from my face.
Oh. Fuck. Yes.
I grabbed the oil from her, making quick work of covering her chest. Then my hands were on her tits. I wish I could say I was gentle, that I had some self-control. I didn’t. I was far too worked up. Kneading roughly, I leaned in, capturing a nipple in my mouth, sucking and tonguing her flesh like a starving man.
I felt her fingers thread through my hair, pulling, holding me in place as she ground down, rubbing her pussy on my length. A groan tore from my throat when she arched into me, urging me to take more of her breast while her pussy pulsed against my dick. I bit and sucked and licked until her breathing turned labored as little tremors racking her frame.
After a moment, I felt her pushing at my shoulder. Pressing her lips to my ear, she panted, “David.”
Oh fuck, I had completely distracted myself.
Releasing my death grip on her tits, I leaned back against the headboard, getting situated. I wanted a good view.
She scooted back, making her way down my body, as I shoved my sweatpants down, kicking them off under the covers, my excitement evident in my quick movements. She had me acting like an overeager teen, like I’d never done this before.
She braced on her arms, leaning over my hips, her legs tucked between mine. I sucked in a sharp breath when she leaned down, letting her nipple graze the head of my cock, a thin string of precum pulling away with it.
“Fuck, yes,” I muttered. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands were on the sides of her breasts, pushing them together, nice and tight, around my dick.
My breathing turned harsh and my mouth fell open as I watched my hips thrust up in a frantic rhythm. If I ever needed to jack it in the future this was the image I’d be thinking of: my cock snugged between her breasts, thrusting wildly.
Half dozen slick strokes between her soft tits and my balls drew up.
Austin looked up at me with a triumphant grin. I must have looked as desperate and pathetic as I felt. I wanted to take slow, make it sexy, make sure she enjoyed it too, but I'd wanted to titty fuck her for so long...
Next time... next time I’ll make it hot for her.
Half dozen more and my body tensed. My cock pulsed once, twice, and I shuddered, spraying a pearl necklace across her neck and chin.
“Fuck, sweet girl,” I groaned, watching my cum drip down her neck to her chest.
Before I could recover, she moved, scooting up, straddling my upper abs, her wet cunt settling there. The black satin fabric was off to the side and soaking wet. I felt a bit of male pride at that.
Slowly, she dragged a finger across her chest, through my cum, then sucked the digit into her mouth with a satisfied Mmmm.
A deep groan bubbled up out of me at the sight and the bite of her heels digging into my hips.
“Tastes good,” she murmured. Then her hands moved over my chest. “Do you want your other present now?”
I nodded, still trying to catch my breath.
She lifted her left hand up. Mrs. Taylor was inked along her ring finger.
Warmth bloomed inside me, an intense pressure in my chest. It was overwhelming. She knew what I needed...
Grabbing her hand, I pulled it closer, inspecting it.
“You did this last night?” I checked, jaw clenching to cover my emotion.
“Yeah, I was afraid you’d see it.”
I hadn’t, not at all. I didn’t have a clue how she’d managed to hide it from me, but I didn't care.
“This is... fucking perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”
It was the best gift she could've ever given me.
She was mine. For some reason, that ink on
her made it real. She willingly gave herself to me, branded herself.
Knowing she'd done that for me had me instantly hard again. Grabbing her, I rolled us over, pinning her down, and with a practiced shift of my hips, I was sinking into her scorching heat.
****
Three weeks later, as I pulled into the gas station, I knew I’d made the right decision. I’d taken it upon myself to start filling both cars up once a week, not wanting Austin to go anymore. Not alone anyway. The last time she did, several money-hungry paps cornered her, digging for dirt. We were trying to keep the whole Dawn situation out of the press, but they'd gotten wind of it somehow.
“David, what do you think of the cover?” I heard one say as I exited the Audi.
Fuck, I'd completely forgotten about the cover Austin had done. The magazine should have sent one over to the house, or at the very lest Elaine should have. Hell, for all I knew they had. We’d been busy the past couple a weeks.
“You think it's hot?” he asked.
“What about Dawn? Are you seeing someone else? You have a side chick?” another one shouted.
“Man, if I had your wife, I wouldn't need a side piece,” a different voice pushed.
I refused to look at them, refused to react to their obvious baiting. More than one of them were clearly looking for a payday—suing me for assault.
Then another, “The All-American Sweetheart isn't so sweet, huh?”
I didn't respond to their tireless questions as I filled up her car, then headed inside. Going straight to the magazine rack, I searched for Austin's image.
Fuck.
There she was, my wife. I had a moment of panic as I stared at her oiled body on full display, wearing only a microscopic tank and tiny bikini bottoms.
Was it sexist I wanted her to stay covered up? Maybe.
Was it a double standard? Definitely.
From a publicity standpoint, it was great, but as my wife... Fuck no!
Opening it, I flipped through, finding her article. As I scanned it, I knew it came from Elaine not Austin. It was generic and cheesy, designed to appeal to a large audience.