She walks into the apartment after work. Just as she has done every weekday since they moved in together. He is there at the table reading through papers that appeared to be from his work. He had watched her enter and sensed something was wrong but since he was unable to sense her full mood he waited and pretended to read. His eyes would scan over her when she wouldn't notice. He never told her how much he likes to watch her in her heels and suits. It was a secret he knew would not make or break their relationship but one he could savor nearly every day.
She places her keys and bag down on the table in the entryway. She kicks off her heels and hangs up her jacket. His eyes took in her firm butt as she bends down to collect her shoes and place them near the coat hook. The skirt hugs her curves. He continues to watch her through her routine, trying to gauge her emotional state so he will know to avoid or intervene. She turns, noticing him watching and stands, looks back at him. She just looks, returning his stare with no emotion or sign as to what her day has been like.
She turns quickly and goes into the bathroom. From the sounds he gets the impression it has been rough. The cupboard slams and water splashed. She reappears in the doorway and her hair is released from its upsweep. Her blouse is pulled from the waist band, wrinkled from being tucked in but holding enough form to show her natural womanly curves. He glance has become a full body scan before he breaks the silence, "How was your day?"
Her eyebrows arch at the question and then she rolls her eyes a bit. This can only be bad he thinks as she walks toward him. There is purpose in her step, and he steels himself for her vocal eruption. There is none. As she moves closer he notices that her hands are working the buttons of her blouse loose. She walks over to where he is sitting, right up against his knees. Their eyes remain focused on each other while she straddles his legs but doesn't sit. This causes her skirt to rise up her legs more, and he notices she had removed her pantyhose. He cannot help but take in the silkiness of her thighs. He tries to ignore the stirring in his loins. While she stares at him she finishes opening her blouse and let it hang loose. He knows that her skin is soft and remembers feel of her breast. This is enough for him, he is becoming aroused. He thinks to himself how each time he sees her he is amazed at the love he still feels and that the desire for her has only increased.
He is drunk already from the memories of their times together, the feel of her against him. He takes a chance and reaches both hands out caresses her breasts through her bra. This is want she wanted but she has yet to allow him to know her intentions or desire. She continues to show no reaction as his roughened hands hold and massage her. Her body begins to give her arousal away as her nipples harden quickly under his touch. They show through her silk and lace bra. That was his gift for Christmas. His mind tries to imagine that she is wearing the matching panties. A moan nearly escapes him from the thoughts. She can sense it and finds his reactions encouraging. She wants him; she wanted him before she even came home. Their eyes remain locked on one another.
He leans forward into her open shirt. His heated breath stirs her perfume. He breathes in her scent deeper, becoming further intoxicated. He tries to go slow but his will power wears thin and his mouth capture her nipples through the fabric. His hands are around her back under her blouse, pulling her gently closer. He moves his hands down to the zipper on the back of the shirt. His hands squeeze and cup her round rear before he tries to unzip the clothing that hides her from him. In his mind he noted that she had taken care in what she wore for each item had been a gift, from him. His heart leaps at the knowledge that she did it for him, him and no one else.
He gently kisses where her bra doesn't cover, the creamy mounds and slight collarbone. Lips linger over, tasting, the smooth, silky flesh that only he has the right to touch and taste. His moist tongue traces inside the edge of her bra. The tip of his tongue, just inside the lacey edge, slowly follows the contours of both her and the bra. Where he has left a trail of moisture his breath now heats. He continues to caress her rear through her skirt as he kisses and tastes her exposed skin. Heat from his hands warms her through her skin, to her core being. She is captivated by the sensation his strong work worn hands create.
