Taste Test

by Christine d'Abo

  The quiet was unusually all consuming, prodding me into folding the shirts a tiny bit faster so I could escape the cool dark of the basement and emerge back into the sunlight. My husband’s T-shirts took up half a load in the machine, the stretched cotton worn and comfortable. I had been wearing them to bed for years. He’d been pissed when I’d had to get him the next size up the last time I went shopping, claiming there was no way he’d put on that much weight. I tried telling him I didn’t care even if he had. His body, while not likely to end up on the cover of GQ, was still capable, familiar and mine.

  I once claimed he was built just for me. That his body stretched and changed to meet my needs, adapting as we’d gotten older. We grew and shifted together, making sure we were both happy. I don’t think he believed that I still thought he was sexy despite the love handles.

  Grabbing the basket of clothes, I made my way upstairs, listening for the normal sounds of our home. Even the dogs were quiet. Maybe he’d taken them out for a walk? Shifting the basket to my hip, I opened the basement door and stepped out into the kitchen. Sunlight coming in from the window washed across my face and I closed my eyes to enjoy the rare moment of peace.

  The grind and pop of the garage door opening and closing had me walking further into the room. Opening the door with a jerk my husband practically raced inside the house, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

  “We’re not suddenly rich, are we?” The basket on my hip was getting heavy, digging into my side. “Can I hire a maid? Pool boy? Can we get a pool?”

  He closed the door and kicked off his shoes, apparently not caring where they landed. “I took the kids to the movies.”

  “You did what?” We hadn’t discussed going to the movies today. Hell, I didn’t even know what was playing. “Which one?”

  “Don’t have a clue. I bought them tickets for the first one they agreed on and gave them money for snacks.” He jerked his shirt off, revealing his chest and the bulge of his biceps. I’ve always loved his arms. “We have an hour and forty minutes.”

  “For what?”

  “Sex, sweetie.” His grin was infectious and within a heartbeat I was smiling back at him. “I’m going to fuck you sideways.”

  With my husband I never knew if he was being literal or kidding. “Sex?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “At one thirty in the afternoon? On a Sunday?”

  “You have a choice.” He pushed down his shorts, leaving him in his briefs in front of the wide open window. “I can continue to remove my shit here and I can fuck you in the living room, or we can go somewhere where we won’t put on a show. I really don’t care. I’m that kind of horny.”

  There was a time I would have laughed at the foolishness of the situation. Spontaneous sex had been something we’d indulged early in our relationship. It hadn’t been a big deal and gave us kickass bragging rights as a couple.

  But now… God, I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d fucked when it hadn’t been on a schedule. We’d now gotten to a point where we had to plan our spontaneity.

  I dropped the laundry basket. It could wait. “Where are the dogs?”

  “Outside. They’re sniffing at the bushes and peeing on the fence as we speak.”

  I pulled my T-shirt off and tossed it onto the basket. “That won’t last long. They’ll start barking at the bugs.”

  “Do you care?”

  “Not really.”

  Leaving his clothing on the floor, he crossed the room and picked me up in a fireman carry. I squealed, shocked he could lift me at all, let alone throw me over his shoulder. He’s not the only one who’d put on some weight over the years. He even managed to land a few slaps to my ass as he carried me up the stairs to the bedroom, though my jeans dampened a lot of the sting.

  I was laughing as he tossed me to the middle of the bed, squirming myself into place. “What brought this on?”

  A single push and his briefs landed on the floor, exposing his wonderfully erect cock. “I missed us.”

  “Us?” We talk all the time, about the kids, our jobs, the house. I yanked open the button of my jeans and lifted my hips so he could pull them off.

  “I miss who we used to be. This.”

  And then I understood. We’ve both been so busy, it was easy to forget that before the routines, and soccer games, and daily grind, we’d been just a man and a woman who loved each other. Who craved each other’s bodies and enjoyed sex. Enjoyed having fun with sex.

  My bra and panties were quickly shed and I found myself finally naked. I knew I was grinning like a fool, but I couldn’t help myself. “I want to be loud.”

  “Shit, yes.”

  He pushed my legs back until my knees pressed beside my breasts, opening myself up to him. I wanted to squirm away from his touch, the intensity of his gaze, but he held me still. Hot breath rolled over my pussy, causing my inner muscles to clench. He always loved going down on me, hated it when I wouldn’t let him do it. I wasn’t given a choice today.

  His tongue was large and wet as he licked long and slow across the short hair covering my nether lips and clit. I was wet, more so than I remembered being in quite sometime, making the press of his finger into my cunt smooth as he latched on to my clit.

  Every muscle in my body tensed and for a second I held back the groan. Then my brain came momentarily back to life and I realized I didn’t have to keep quiet.

  I sucked in a breath and let out a long, low groan. He stopped and looked up at me, his mouth still latched to my pussy. I held his gaze and bucked my hips, encouraging him to continue. I felt his growl against my clit, vibrating. It was the last warning he gave me before losing control.

  We’d been doing this for so long, you’d think it would become boring. Hell no. He knew where to push, how to crook his fingers inside me just so, pressing against the spot so I saw stars. With something as simple as a change in the routine, everything we’d been doing somehow felt new, exciting, forbidden.

  My body responded faster than it had in ages. My nipples were rock hard and my skin was so sensitive to his touch. He reached up and pinched my nipple, tugging it in time to the lapping of his tongue on my clit. Every cell in my body burned, electrified. I buried my fingers in his hair, holding him in place, knowing my orgasm was going to come hard and fast. The sounds coming from him as he ate me out were obscene and cranked my arousal higher.

  “Yes, fuck, right there. Don’t you dare stop.” There was a time when those words from me would make him do exactly that, tease and draw things out for as long as possible. But I knew he was as far gone as I was. And we still had plenty of time. We could do this again if, our bodies cooperated.

  I screamed, vocalizing every bit of pleasure as he pumped his hand into my pussy while sucking hard on my clit. He moved his other hand from my breast to my hips, pressing me down into the mattress, pinning me so I couldn’t shift away from the pleasure.

  I had barely caught my breath, my inner muscles still twitching and grasping, when he rolled me over and pulled me onto my hands and knees. Leaning over, he nipped at my ass cheek before sucking a love mark into my skin. I loved when he did that.

  “I want to fuck your ass. We haven’t done that in ages.”

  No we hadn’t. It took time and care to prep my body. Not something you can decide at quarter to midnight when we were both already sleepy. But in the bright light of the afternoon sun, I lowered my chest to the mattress and wiggled my butt in his face.

  “Make it good, big boy.”

  Lube-covered fingers quickly found their way to my opening, gently poking and stretching me open. He went slow, taking time to tease my clit, stoking my arousal back up so that by the time he had three fingers inside me, I was wild and panting beneath him.

  “Not like this.” I pulled away from him and flopped onto my back. “I want to see you.”

  His blue eyes were fully dilated and he was panting open-mouthed. Grabbing a pillow he shoved it under my ass, tilting my hips to make
it easier to take him. He slicked up his cock, lining himself up with me and began to push gently forward. We’d long ago forgone the need for condoms, both of us having been fixed after the birth of our second child. It was a pleasure we’d long grown accustomed to, but never tired of—skin on skin, muscles gripping hard flesh.

  I clung to him as his thrusts picked up in force and speed. With my hips tilted, my clit rubbed against his stomach.

  “I love your ass. And your pussy. And tits.” He leaned over me and sucked on my neck. “You fucking turn me on just by looking at me.”

  I sucked on his earlobe hard, knowing what it would do to him. “Harder.”

  His growl sounded feral, the noise rattling in his chest and vibrating through me. I knew he was close as he hooked his hands around the back of my shoulders. I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his back, forcing him even deeper. That was all it took. He threw back his head and cried out, pumping me full of his come. My muscles ached in the way that happens after great sex and I loved how he collapsed on top of me, our sweaty bodies pressed together.

  I ran my fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  “So…the movies?”

  I could feel his grin against my skin. “I figured they were old enough to go alone. Give them some independence.”

  “And us some time to have sex?”

  “Well, I’ve never been one to waste an opportunity.”

  The sharp barking of the dogs at the back patio door bounced up the hall to our room. He sighed and started to pull out. “I’ll go see what they’re into.”

  “No. Stay.” He started to protest, so I stopped him with a kiss. “They’ll be fine. Let’s enjoy this for a few more minutes before we have to go back to reality.”

  The afternoon sun warmed our bodies as a breeze caressed our skin and the dogs barked in the distance. This was our break from the norm, our chance to do something wild amidst the chaos of our lives. It was my chance to reconnect with the man I’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

  I’ve grown to love Sunday matinees.

  Wilco

  Lucy always found it amusing when her subs discovered she was in the Navy. Especially if the men turned out to have a uniform fetish and begged her to wear it. Not that she ever did, but those nights were usually entertaining. Her service khakis were currently neatly folded and tucked away back at her apartment away from any prying eyes. Tonight wasn’t about that part of her life. And while many would argue she was simply trading one uniform for another, Lucy knew it wasn’t that simple.

  She needed this.

  The hem of the PVC skirt clung to her thighs as she made a circle around the club. It had been a few months since she’d been able to wear this and her body had forgotten how to move in the material. Her ankles wobbled ever so slightly in the spike heeled boots and her face itched beneath the leather mask she wore to hide her identity. This wasn’t simply a costume she’d slip into and pretend. It was a refuge from the daily pressures of constantly taking orders. The never ending press of bowing to someone else’s will day in and day out made it necessary for Lucy to find an outlet for her natural domination tendencies where and when she could.

  This was the first time since she’d graduated from officer training that Lucy had been able to come here. Her friends and family understood that it was a challenge for any woman in the military, but she knew they didn’t appreciate the reasons why it was especially hard for her. Lucy needed to have a degree of control over her life. The past two months of naval exercises had made it impossible for her to take the time to visit before now.

  The music in the club made it challenging to have a decent conversation. Thankfully, chit-chat wasn’t part of her Domm personality. She stuck mostly to the bar, wishing not for the first time that it wasn’t dry, and watched the male submissives do what they could to get her attention. They were mostly guys her age, maybe a bit younger, but very few of them appealed. This was her first visit to The Leather Slipper in months, but the normal variety of options wasn’t materializing. There weren’t a lot of choices when it came to BDSM clubs in Halifax, but Lucy was at the point where she was going to have to branch out if she wanted to find what she craved. Someone strong, confident, someone she could take down a few pegs.

  Sipping down the last of her Coke, Lucy was about to leave when a new arrival caught her attention. For a moment, she thought she must be imagining things because there was no way he could be here. Lucy wasn’t sure if Sergeant Tyler Richardson even knew what sex was, let alone what went on in a place like this.

  The next thought was that her former instructor was here looking for her.

  But that was impossible.

  Lucy brushed her fingers along the edge of her mask, reassuring herself that it was securely in place. Originally, she’d taken to wearing it to hide her youth from those who wouldn’t expect her to have the level of control necessary to meet their needs. She’d continued to wear it long past the time it was necessary, as others expected it to be a part of her persona.

  And now it would act as a shield, protecting her identity from the man who’d helped make her the officer she was now. The man who made her pussy clench and her breasts ache simply by entering the room.

  The last thing Lucy wanted was for Tyler to recognize her. She had a hard enough time when it came to some of the ribbing she took from some of the male officers without adding the fact that she was a Dominatrix into the mix.

  Tyler was dressed in civvies, making him look a lot younger than his thirty-six years. The black T-shirt he wore clung perfectly to his shoulders and chest, showing off the fit body she’d caught a glimpse of once after they’d gotten muddy during a training exercise. While his abs might not have been as defined as some of the younger men, Tyler was still in better shape than most of the twenty-something year old recruits of her acquaintance.

  Lucy’s fingers dug into her thigh as he surveyed the room, his gaze landing on her. It had been over two months since she’d seen him last, before her graduation. There didn’t seem to be any hint of recognition on his face, nor did he make any move to come closer. He simply stood there and stared. It took every ounce of her control not to squirm under the directness of his gaze. They weren’t back on base, and within these walls she wasn’t his subordinate. It didn’t matter who they were in the harsh light of day, here at the Leather Slipper Lucy was in charge. The fissure of tension that had threatened quickly dissipated.

  She was about to get up and confront him, when a woman who Lucy knew to be a submissive slid up to Tyler and gently took his hand. She lifted it to her face and rained kisses along the back of his knuckles. Instead of the smirk she’d grown used to seeing after hours of firearms training, Lucy was surprised when he jerked his hand away and shook his head.

  He wasn’t here to find a sub? Then what the hell did he want?

  The woman scurried away and Tyler went back to staring at Lucy.

  Lucy didn’t realize she was moving until she was halfway across the room. Tyler never once looked away from her, even when she cut across the open dance floor through the crowd of writhing bodies. His eyes widened then, presumably because he got the full effect of her black PVC corset and skirt, but otherwise he didn’t make a move.

  She wore her hair down, the loose curls covering her shoulders, so very unlike the tight bun she was forced to wear during the day. In her boots, Lucy came up to be almost equal to his six feet frame, putting her on a far more level playing field than she was used to having with him.

  Jutting her hip out to the side, she crossed her arms and peered at him from behind the mask. “Army boy?”

  She could have laughed as he stiffened, his chin jutting out slightly. “Navy.”

  Lucy snorted. “Of course you are.”

  “Not hard to guess living in this town.” His normally deep voice sounded rougher than normal. “Interesting place.”

  “You’r
e clearly new. Who’s your sponsor?” Someone had to have gotten him in. Finding out who might raise some interesting questions.

  Tyler laced his hands behind his back and widened his stance ever so slightly. “I’m a friend of the owner.”

  God, if she’d known that Lucy would have picked another club. She’d been tormented throughout her firearms training by images of Tyler coming up behind her to adjust her stance, staying closer than necessary so he could remain within her grasp. She’d pictured him falling to his knees, shirt off, waiting for Lucy to tell him to get naked. Then there’d been the nights she’d dreamed of taking the belt from his service khakis and beating his ass red until Tyler begged her to let him fuck her.

  It had taken her weeks to rid her fantasies of that particular image.

  “So Navy boy, why are you here?”

  His gaze slid from hers to a spot above her shoulder. “I’m looking for…for someone, ma’am.”

  Lucy cocked an eyebrow. Reaching out she took him by the chin and forced Tyler to look at her. “Who?”

  She almost didn’t believe him when he let his gaze pointedly drop from hers to the floor. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and for the first time since her acquaintance with the sergeant, he looked nervous.

  “You, ma’am.”

  The thrill that raced through Lucy was nearly enough to make her come on the spot. No, he couldn’t actually mean her. He was simply looking for a Domm, someone he could play around with. But even that felt wrong. Tyler never once gave her the submissive vibe and Lucy had long ago figured out how to pick one out at a hundred paces. There was something else going on and she was determined to find out what.

  “Why the hell should I waste my time with the likes of you?”

  Tyler opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was the first time Lucy had ever seen him tongue-tied. The sergeant was a fast thinker, quick to toss off a smart-ass remark meant to put new recruits in their place. Not once had she seen him stumble. Not until now.