Moira snorts in disbelief and says exactly what I expect. "Well, welcome to my world, Zach. Now you know how I feel most of the time."
And fuck... I knew that would pack a punch, leaving an empty hole in the middle of my chest that immediately fills with guilt, but I didn't expect it to almost knock the strength from my legs. Suddenly, I feel bone tired, helpless, and out of control. I scrub both hands through my hair and turn away from my wife so she doesn't see that bit of vulnerability.
Immediately, I feel her hands on me... lightly on my lower back and then circling around my stomach. She presses her body up against mine, soft breasts resting against my back, and I can feel her cheek touch my shoulder blade.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, and that makes me feel even guiltier.
I spin around, catch her face firmly, and bend down until we're almost nose to nose. "Don't. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who's being a jackass."
"But you're a cute jackass," she says impishly. "And you're my jackass."
I can't help it. This woman just gets me.
Gets to me.
In the best fucking way.
Chuckling, I pull her in hard, hug the breath out of her, and rest my chin on her head. "Christ... I'm sorry. All I've been thinking about all day is you in that green bra and panties, straddling me... getting ready to ride my cock, and I've been desperate to get home to be with you."
"We've still got time tonight, baby," she says soothingly.
But that's not true. By the time the pizza gets here, we entertain our guest, and then get the kids ready for bed and down... I know without a doubt what will happen.
What happens almost every other night.
We'll be too tired to do anything but a quick, fumbled fuck where we'll fall into a deep, exhausted sleep immediately after.
Again.
"I'll send Josh home," Moira says suddenly in an attempt to give me something she can see I really need. "We'll shove some PB&Js down the kids' throats and lock them in their rooms. I can be naked and in the bed in about fifteen minutes."
I can't help it. I laugh at the thought of my wife kicking Josh out, running around like crazy all so I can do dirty things to her all night. God, I love this woman.
Shaking my head, I lean down to kiss her. "No, let's go be good hosts to your intern. He seems nice and deserves your freshly ordered pizza, I suppose."
"He is nice," Moira says as she grins up at me. "You'll like him."
I cock a skeptical eyebrow at her. He's young, clearly brilliant, and good looking. I'm betting he's single. My kids like him, and he works in close proximity to my hot-as-hell wife. I don't like him at all, but I keep that to myself.
"And besides," Moira continues on with a mischievous sparkle. "He doesn't have any family here, so I invited him to spend Thanksgiving dinner with us next week."
"You did?" I ask tightly, but I maintain what I think is a jovial smile on my face. There goes another intimate family dinner.
"Yup. And I invited Lila today before I left your office," she says with an even bigger, more mischievous grin on her face. "I think they'd make a cute couple, don't you?"
I blink at my wife in awe. "You're trying to set Josh and Lila up?"
"Well, I am a romantic at heart, and not everyone can have what you and I have, but we can at least help people to be somewhat happy. I think they'd really like each other."
"You're too much," I tell her sincerely. "And I'm a romantic too. I left you some flowers on the couch."
She laughs at me, eyes sparkling with love and appreciation not just from my efforts, but because I let her turn me around. I let Moira take me from my funk and annoyance, and I let her do what she does best.
Remind me what a lucky man I am.
Chapter 9
Moira
The alarm jolts me out of a sound, exhausted sleep and because I don't want to wake Zach up, my arm slings out with the precision of a marching drill platoon and cleanly hits the off button.
Holding still, I listen in the dark to make sure Zach wasn't disturbed. I hear nothing and start to peel the covers back so I can ease out of bed.
I'm stopped when Zach's arm snakes around my stomach and hauls me back into his body. "Mornin'," he says sleepily as he nuzzles into my neck. I can feel him start to grow hard against my ass.
I squirm in his hold and attempt to push out of his grasp. "Go back to sleep," I whisper. "I know you're exhausted, and I have to get the turkey ready."
His hold merely tightens as he grinds into me. "I missed you."
I go still, bring my arms up over his, and squeeze him back. "I missed you too."
For a full five seconds, I let him cuddle me, because he's been gone for the past three days on a business trip to New York and didn't get in until long after I had fallen asleep last night. But then I start to pull out of his grasp. "But I've got so much stuff to do to get ready for today, so you go back to sleep and I'll come wake you up later."
His hold tightens even further, and I struggle between being annoyed and charmed. God, what I wouldn't give to just lay here and snuggle in deep with my husband. I've missed him so much these past few days. Knowing he's hard for me now makes me horny as all get out, but I also am feeling the stress of a massive Thanksgiving dinner that has to get done. I set my alarm for five AM, having precisely timed how long it would take me to prepare the turkey, stuff it, and get it in the oven before I moved on to the other multitude of things that needed to be done before we sat down to eat at two with our guests.
Zach suddenly releases me and I don't let the reprieve slide, jetting out of the bed before I'm tempted to let my husband have his way with me. In the dark, I make my way carefully out of the room so he can get some more rest and silently pad like a stealthy ninja chef into the kitchen.
I had set most everything out last night, so I'd stick to my schedule. Squatting down, I reach into the back of a lower cupboard to pull out my roaster. As I rise, I'm startled by Zach's hands going around my waist.
"Zach," I say with my heart beating a million times a minute. "What are you doing? Go back to bed. I know you're exhausted."
"Not exhausted," he says as he leans to the side to kiss my neck. "I'm horny."
To emphasize the point, he presses his cock into my backside, pulling back on my hips so I get the full effect. Instantly, I'm horny again too.
But I'm also a pragmatist.
"Baby," I say, trying to keep the moan out of my voice. "I love you, but I have a million and one things to do to get ready."
"I'll help you after I fuck you," he says, leaning the other way to kiss the opposite side of my neck. One palm moves from hip to breast, where he squeezes gently.
"Mmmmm." My head falls backward, and I make a weak attempt to pull away from him.
"I've been gone, missing my wife and kids, and haven't had sex with you in four days," Zach murmurs as his other hand slides across my lower stomach before diving down into my pajama bottoms. His fingers inch under the waistband of my panties and glide south with purpose.
He immediately hits my clit hard, and because I know my husband so well, that means he wants to hit me hard and fast. He's fueled by desperation, and this is going to be a skin-slapping session. I know Cannon will sleep through any sounds, and if Jaime happens to wake up, she's at least too young to understand and can't get out of her crib yet, so we won't get caught.
With that thought, and the knowledge my husband says he'll help me cook, it means I'm all in.
My hand comes up, dives into my pajamas bottoms, and covers Zach's own, urging him to go rougher on me.
"Yeah, baby," he says encouragingly over my capitulation. "You want this, don't you?"
"So much," I pant as he rubs my wetness all around in tight circles.
"I've got this fantasy," he growls with his lips against my ear and his finger fluttering fast against my clit. "After everyone's gone home today, and the kids go to sleep, I'm going to lay you out on the dining room table, s
pread cranberry sauce all over your pussy, and have my own Thanksgiving feast."
I can see it as clear as day, my dirty, uncivilized man doing that to me, and the thought is too much to bear with his finger moving so expertly against me. I viciously explode, crying out a pained sob of release fueled hotter and brighter by his dirty-talking ways.
"Fuck," he groans as he pulls his hand free and tears at my pajama bottoms and panties to drag them down my legs. "I'm so hard right now it hurts."
"Hurry," I breathe out unevenly.
He pulls back slightly, and I can see him in my mind pushing his boxers down to release that massive cock that I love. My cock. Mine, mine, mine.
I automatically bend forward, spread my legs as far as I can in their confines, and brace my hands on the edge of the granite counter. My eyes slide over, focus on the Pepperidge Farms bags of stuffing mix sitting there, and my body tenses with eager anticipation while it awaits his invasion.
He doesn't disappoint.
Zach never disappoints.
He drags the head of his cock through my wetness from behind. Just before pushing that thickness inside, he murmurs, "It actually hurts to be away from you, Moira. I can't stand it."
My body shudders uncontrollably from the love, lust, and hunger in his voice. I have no will over my own body as my hips slam backward to take him in.
"F-u-u-u-c-k," Zach groans as his hands fly to my hips to steady himself, and his fingers dig painfully into my flesh. "Oh, damn Moira... damn. Fuck. Feels so good. I'm going to come so hard."
His words fuel me on. I pull forward... feel his thickness slide free, almost to the end, and because I know the length of my husband so very well, just before he falls free, I slam back against him.
"Oh, God Moira... baby. Don't stop doing that," he begs me.
So I don't.
While my husband stands perfectly still behind me, his hands gripping my hips, I work my angle back and forth, and I fuck my husband hard.
Fast.
And noisily.
We both grunt and groan, hurdling toward release. Skin and soaking wet flesh slapping loudly.
Oh, I missed this wildness we possess only with each other. I've missed knowing my husband hungers for me like this. I've been so lonely sometimes in our tame lovemaking, maybe perhaps forgetting the connection that's like a pilot flame, just waiting for a little gas to make it ignite.
And when it ignites, holy hell, it burns hotter than the sun at midday in the desert.
I fuck my husband without mercy, ignoring my second orgasm as it bubbles, and only concentrate on the filthy curses that start pouring out of Zach's mouth that indicate he's getting close.
"Come on, baby," I urge him through gritted teeth. I glance down, seeing my breasts jiggling hard against my pajama tank top, bend further, look down lower, and see him tunneling in and out of me.
Oh, man... so damn hot.
"Here it comes," Zach groans in warning as his hands really clamp down on me. With nothing but the strength of his well-built upper arms, he holds my body still. He pulls back once, slams forward harder and deeper than I was taking him, and goes completely quiet within me.
"Yes," he whispers reverently as I can feel his cock start to jump inside of me, every little thump indicating a jet of semen he's unloading. "Oh, Moira... feels so good."
My own orgasm pops free, skitters up my spine, makes my hips gyrate against him. The friction must be too much because Zach rears back, comes halfway out, and slams back into me with a grunt. "Fuck... I think I'm coming again. Holy shit... baby... damn."
Yes!
I love hearing Zach lost like that. His tone... giving me all the credit for making him feel like this. He doesn't even need to say a single word more to me, because I know in this minute... I'm reminded... just how much he reveres me.
How essential I am to him.
My husband leans over my back, wraps his arms around me, and we let the tiny quakes ease their way through our bodies. We hold tight... immersed in each other as our breathing quiets.
"I love you," I whisper to him.
"If it's half as much as I love you, then that's a whole lot of love," he says with a chuckle and a kiss to the back of my head.
We spend the next five minutes getting ourselves in order. There are a lot of sweet kisses in between cleanup and righting our clothes. Zach spends a few minutes filling me in on his trip to New York while I pull out the onions and celery from the fridge along with two knives.
As we stand companionably at the counter, me dicing celery and Zach dicing onions--because he said real men don't cry and then proved it to me by taking on the foul vegetables--he then proceeds to suck some of the carefree happiness from the room.
"So... we're not going to be able to go away for our anniversary next month like I hoped," he says quietly.
My hands stop in mid-cut, and I turn my head. He's looking at me with a face full of apology.
"Why's that?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but I'm starting to drown in disappointment inside.
"The new distribution center is going live that week. I need to be there," he says as he resumes cutting the onions.
My eyes prick with tears. I want to say it's the close proximity to Zach's work on the onions, but I know it's not. It's because I was really looking forward to having a few days alone with my husband. Where we could be wild, uninhibited, and focused solely on each other. We haven't had that since Cannon was born. We hadn't had it much prior to that between my work and Zach making his way through undergrad and his MBA studies. We've only had stolen moments like just now when he fucked me in the kitchen quickly before I could make stuffing.
"I'm so sorry, honey," he says as he lays the knife down. He pulls me into his arms and even though I try to keep my face lowered, I know he sees the tears. "But we can go somewhere in January once it all settles down. I promise."
I know that should be an easy alternative. Sure... we could go at a later time. It means we still have time together, but it also means that again, our marriage is coming in second. It means I'm coming in second, and at this very moment, I realize that I'm not just hurt, annoyed, or disappointed. I'm starting to feel a little bitter about it all.
Still, I do what Moira does best. I pull back, give him a confident smile, and tell him, "No problem. We can go later if we can work it out."
He looks at me hesitantly for a moment, but then I clearly see the moment... it's just a look on his face... when he accepts what I say. It's a look of immense relief as he chooses to believe that this doesn't hurt my feelings.
Chapter 10
Zach
Moira and I stand at our open door and wave goodbye to Josh and Lila as they walk to their cars, both of them carrying a brown paper bag filled with Thanksgiving leftovers. I have to admit... Moira called that one right. Within just a few minutes of them being introduced to each other, it became clear that there was deep interest and attraction. Lila twirled her hair a lot in flirtation when she talked to Josh, and Josh seemed to be riveted by what she was saying. He certainly didn't hide the appreciative looks he kept giving her.
Moira and I kept sneaking knowing glances at each other across the table as we chowed down on turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, and corn pudding. By the time Moira served dessert--choice of pumpkin, pecan, or apple pie--Josh had already asked Lila out to dinner for the following evening.
My wife is fucking brilliant.
We watch just a moment as Josh walks Lila to her car and they stand close to each other while they talk, but then I pull Moira back into the house, shutting the door behind us. She gives me a knowing wink, places a hand on my hip, and says, "I'm sure we'll be invited to the wedding."
I smirk at her and lean down to give her a kiss. "Hell, their firstborn should be named after you... whether it's a girl or a boy."
Moira gives me a laugh and pushes back. "Go in and help Randall put away the pie. I'll go get the kids bath
ed and into their pajamas."
"Deal," I tell her as I turn toward the kitchen.
It's been a great day indeed.
It wasn't an intimate family dinner like I'd wanted, but I ended up truly enjoying our company. All of my doubts about Lila were put to rest when I saw just how interested she was in Josh. It almost embarrassed me to think she could be putting moves on me, because as I watched her flirt, banter, and giggle at him, I realized she truly was being nothing but professional with me. It was nice to see the prospect of perhaps new love blooming at our table, and I'm always more than happy to have Randall with us because he's the closest thing I have to family here.
While my adoptive father, Parilla, still enjoys relatively good health back in Amazonia, I haven't seen him since before Moira and I got married, and sadly, I'm not sure I will see him again. I'm lucky Father Gaul still sends us updates when he can on my former Caraican tribe, but that's about all I can count on as satellite phones and even snail mail are just not a possibility as deep in the jungle as they live.
When I walk into the kitchen, I see Randall bent over the apple pie, eating a forkful directly from the pan. He looks up when he hears me, flushes guiltily for just a second, but then unapologetically digs his fork back in.
"There's only a little bit left," he mumbles around a mouthful. "No sense in dirtying up another plate."
I shrug my shoulders, because that sounds like good logic to me, and then decide to join him. Rounding the kitchen island, I grab a fork from the utensil drawer on the way and stab into the flaky crust. I take a huge bit. As I chew on the sweetly tart goodness, Randall asks, "So, how are you doing with work?"
My head swivels to Randall, and I look at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"Work?" he repeats as he lays his fork on the counter and grabs a napkin to dab at his mouth. "How's it going?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," I tell him, setting my own fork down. "You and I talk pretty much every day about work. Why would you ask how it's going?"
Randall shakes his head and smirks at me. "We talk about work, sure... but I want to know how you're doing with it? How's the stress? Do you like what you do? I know damn well you're good at what you do, and I know you're handling everything fantastically, but I'm asking how are you doing with it all?"
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