Taing Charge

Disclaimer: All characters are over eighteen years of age.

Editing credit: Blind_Justice

Copyright © 2013 redskyes

Author's note: This is a continuation of a series. You'll probably enjoy this more if you start with Part 1.

Chapter 21

I woke up well before Ryan and let him sleep in. Though the cabin floors weren't freezing, thanks to radiant heating, they were still cool enough in the morning to warrant slippers, which I slipped on after my robe. With coffee brewing, I padded over to the hearth and got a fire going. I took a peek through the kitchen window. Even more snow had fallen overnight. Ryan had taken a cab from the airport, but his old brown Renegade was still in the driveway, half buried in snow.

When the coffee was ready, I took a cup to the loveseat and sat lengthwise, stretched out my legs and watched the fire until Ryan woke up. Today had the potential to be a very positive step forward in fixing our marriage, or an utter disaster. I was ruminating on my options, how I could best approach Ryan, when he appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. He had put on slippers and flannel pants that hung from his hips in just the right way, revealing his perfect eight-pack abs. He was both sexy and adorable.

"Good morning." I smiled at him and got up from the couch. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Please," he nodded, ruffling his short hair with his hand, still waking up.

I poured him a cup and handed it over. "How about breakfast?"

He groaned, and I swore I heard his stomach growl. "God, yes. I'm famished."

I chuckled and pulled out the pan, bacon, eggs, and ingredients for biscuits. He was quiet for a while, just leaning against the counter by the refrigerator and watching me cook. At one point, when I was getting the milk out of the fridge, I caught him staring at my chest. My robe had fallen open somewhat and there was a lot of pale cleavage there. I grinned. He blushed. I laughed.

For a little while, I could feel his eyes on me, the tension building in the air, the good kind. But then he surprised me by just jumping in with both feet.

"So, your letter," he said, and I looked over at him while putting the biscuits in the oven. "You said that you were, uhm, discovering yourself."

His nervous manner and blushing cheeks made me grin with amusement. "That's right," I nodded.

"It sounded important."

"It was," I agreed, then clarified. "It is."

He swallowed. "So, when you said lonely, did you mean, just, you know..."

I washed my hands and dried them. "I meant everything, but yes, sex too."

He frowned then. "This is about Jake, isn't it?"

Uh-oh. It was my turn to swallow. "What do you mean?"

Ryan shrugged and leaned back against the counter across from me. "Well, this all started after he moved in with us."

"What started?" I asked, needing to know exactly what he was referring to, since poor communication -- or a complete lack of communication, at times -- was part of our problem.

"I noticed you were trying harder, I guess." He took a deep breath, set his coffee down, and exhaled. "Your face didn't light up or anything, but I noticed your reaction when he would give you a compliment." When I didn't say anything, he added, "The black bikini? Jake would have to be dead to not notice you in that."

I blushed and he smiled playfully.

I wasn't embarrassed, as I imagine he assumed, rather it was a reaction to the brief twinge of shame I felt. From that moment, that very first time Jake complimented me on the bikini, I craved the attention, sought it out, worked harder for more. At the time, I justified it by telling myself I was really trying to get Ryan's attention, and while that was partly true, I knew better. I had wanted Jake's attention. I couldn't tell Ryan any of this though. I wasn't sure it was safe to do so, wasn't sure how he would react.

"I did notice, by the way," he said quietly. I looked up at him and he gave me an apologetic smile. "How beautiful you were. I should have let you know, but I didn't, and I'm sorry about that."

If he had noticed, why hadn't he done anything about it? Why hadn't he least said something? I mean, it doesn't take much to say something like 'you look great, honey'. At least, I didn't think so.

"Why didn't you?" I asked.

He dropped his gaze to the floor and shuffled his feet.

"You don't know or you're not ready to tell me?"

He glanced at me. "I'm not sure."

He was closing down on me, a response I was very familiar with. Whenever Ryan got uncomfortable with a conversation, he would shut down, emotionally. Unfortunately, I needed him to be very emotionally accessible for this to work, so I changed topics.

I checked the biscuits and put the lid on the pan of scrambled eggs, turning off the burner -- a secret to fluffing them up, by the way, letting them steam like that. "Jake told me some very interesting things about you."

I could feel his gaze on the back of my head. "Haven't we had this conversation?"

Nodding, I put a paper towel on a plate and moved the bacon onto it. "He said you never had a problem getting a girl to take her panties off." I moved back to my spot, leaning back against the counter across from him with my hands behind my back. I felt my robe open again, and to my delight, Ryan's gaze dropped to my cleavage, though only briefly. "He said they would talk about you for days after, the girls."

Ryan blushed.

I pushed on. "Do you know what I told him?"

He swallowed and shook his head. We had sort of broached this topic before, months ago. Why was he nervous? Don't guys normally brag about this kind of thing?

"I told him that didn't sound like my husband at all."

Ryan nodded. Not in agreement, just acknowledging what I'd said.

"Why is that, Ryan?" I cocked my head, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. "Why don't I know my husband at least as well as his best friend?"

He frowned, confused. "Why don't you know me as well as you know Jake?"

"What? No," I shook my head. "No, why don't I know you like Jake knows you?"

Ryan made a face and shrugged. "Because you're not a guy. Jake's a guy."

I sighed and crossed my arms under my breasts. The robe opened further, showing a whole lot of cleavage, and Ryan noticed. I was a little frustrated though, so I wasn't able to appreciate his attention. "I don't mean your escapades. Why aren't you like that with me?"

"Like what?"

"My panties, Ryan. Why don't you try to get into my panties?"

He frowned and crossed his arms, defensive. "I've gotten into your panties."

It was almost silly, the way the conversation was going. But again, I was frustrated. I wasn't sure if he was obfuscating or just not following me on this.

"Okay, I'll put this bluntly," I told him, looking him right in the eye. "Women don't talk for days about missionary sex."

The defensive posture, the frown, just gone. He looked away. I was close to getting somewhere with him. I could feel it, almost taste it. I had to be careful how I approached this. I wasn't supposed to know the difference between vanilla sex and mind-blowing, devastatingly amazing sex. I could have read about it, or seen it, but not experienced it, at least not as far as he knew. I couldn't tell him that I knew what good sex was now because of Jake. I still wasn't ashamed about having had sex with Jake – fantastically good sex -- but it would hurt him if he found out, and I still loved him.

So, like I said, I had to be careful.

"You gave Jake a running when it came to girls and the rumor-mill in high school. You don't do that by just putting a girl on her back and thrusting between her legs. You do that by blowing their minds, shattering any preconceptions they have about what really good sex is. Missionary doesn't cut it."

"What do you want me to say, Becca?" He was frowning again, not quite angry. More like irritated. "You're just...shit, don't take this the wrong way...I'm not saying it's your fault, but..." he groaned and shoved his hands through his hair, then dropped them to his sides. "Do you remember our fifth date?"

The fifth? Not the first, but the fifth? "Uhm, not really."

"I do," he told me, lips pressed into a thin line. "We had dinner at Olive Garden. We saw that romantic comedy with Meg Ryan and...and..."

Now I remembered, at least part of it. "Tom Hanks."

"Right," he snapped his fingers, nodding. "The e-mail movie." I snorted and bit my lower lip to keep from smiling. He was just being so very male right then, and it was amusing, charming, and awfully damn cute. A little sexy too. "Anyway, when I took you home, you grabbed my hand before I could get out of the car to open your door. You looked me in the eye and said 'I'm only doing this because you're special, because I think

we

are special'."

I remembered that too now. But God, hearing him say it, wow, it sounded cheesy.

He snorted. "I thought, holy shit, we're going to make out. Maybe I'll get a handjob or something. You know what you did?"

I nodded, and I blushed fiercely.

"You kissed me," he said quietly, touching his fingertip to his lips. "Just a peck, right here." I looked away, but what he said next made me regard him in a new light. "But you know what? I loved it. I appreciated it. It was a precious gift that only you could give me, a gift I could have waited for forever." He leaned towards me. "Part of me, the part that could fuck any girl he wanted, that could make them scream and rave about me 'for days after'," he said, using finger quotes. "That part wanted the handjob, and was pissed when I didn't get it. But the rest of me?" He shook his head. "The rest of me didn't care. The rest of me thought it was enough. More than enough."

I was kind of stunned. I didn't get the chance for that to sink in when he continued.

"You were just so goddamn pure, Rebecca. So innocent. Untouched. I didn't..." he trailed off and looked away, jaw clenched and arms tightly crossed, making the muscles of his upper body cord quite nicely, even his neck.

God, he looked so different, amazing really. How different would he feel? I mean, I'd slept with him the night before, just slept, but if we were...I mean, if we did it, would he feel different? I'd kissed his chest, even the shaft of his penis, last night, before putting him in the shower. I tried to remember if he tasted different, or even smelled different.

My nipples tightened under my robe and wet heat gathered low inside me. I shook my head clear. "'You didn't' what, Ryan?" He didn't answer, but then it clicked, what he'd said. My eyebrows went up. "You thought you'd scare me, didn't you?"

He looked at me, eyes sharp and angry, but he calmed quickly, sighed and nodded, glancing away. "Or offend you."

"Oh, Ryan," I said quietly. I closed the distance between us and put my hands on his hips. When he flicked his gaze to me, I looked up at him. "I like being made love to just as much as anyone. But don't you realize? Sometimes a girl just wants to be fucked, even me."

He balked at that, blinking rapidly, mouth falling open.

I shrugged and curled my fingers into the skin of his hips just a little, to let him know I was serious. "Sometimes I just want a hard, deep dicking, you know?"

He huffed a little laugh and grinned, but then frowned. "Is this one of the things you discovered recently?"

I nodded, and it wasn't entirely a lie by not mentioning that Jake had lent a helping hand in my self-discovery. One of my new toys was a flesh-colored dildo with a suction cup on the base. I loved sticking that thing to the shower door and just fucking myself back onto it. It was a radical change from the prim and proper lady that would lie on her back and daintily tease her vagina with a pink jelly dong.

I pulled plates and silverware out, handing them to him. We set the table and sat down to eat and finish our conversation.

"What I don't get," I said, swallowing a mouthful of eggs before continuing. "Is why you would assume I was any different from any other woman."

He stopped chewing. Though he didn't say anything, I could tell that he was thinking it over, and that he didn't know either. I stood up to go refill my coffee cup and he looked over at me.

"So, what else have you discovered?"

Oh, where to start? "I like to be kissed."

He rolled his eyes and grinned. "Everybody likes that, Becca."

"And nibbled."

He looked up at me with wide eyes and mumbled around a mouthful of bacon. "Mibbled?"

I nodded. He stopped chewing again. After a moment, he swallowed and said, "We're not talking about your mouth, are we?"

I smiled and shook my head. His gaze slid down my body. A tingle shot through me, a jolt of courage, pride, and arousal. I reached down, parted my robe, and laid a single finger over my smoothly waxed mound, the tip of my finger just barely pressing into the very top of my damp cleft. "Right here."

Ryan openly stared between my legs. He swallowed hard, licked his lips, and swallowed again before looking up at me. I let the robe fall closed and sucked on the tip of my glistening finger, bouncing my eyebrows as though to say 'not bad at all' and sauntered into the kitchen. Oh, that got him. The chair scraped loudly across the floor as Ryan shot up and followed me, and it was a fight not to giggle.

"What else?" he asked, leaning around the pillar between the kitchen and small living room, a youthful, eager glimmer in his eyes.

My back was to him as I poured the coffee. "I like my anus stimulated."

I heard him take a sharp breath, though he tried to hide it with a cough, which only made his stunned reaction that much more obvious. My lips curled in an involuntary grin. "You do?" he said quietly, almost a whisper.

I nodded and turned to face him. "I'll show you my new toy later, if you like."

"Maybe a demonstration?" he said, grinning like a little boy and bouncing his eyebrows.

It caught me completely off guard. For an instant, just one instant, I thought I was seeing the young Ryan, the one that existed before he met me, the one that could charm the panties off of any girl he wanted. But the moment passed and he shifted uncomfortably, blushing and averting his gaze.

"Sure," I said, like it was no big deal. Well, it was and it wasn't.

Ryan flicked his gaze at me, eyes wide again. He nodded quickly, like he was accepting as fast as he could, before I changed my mind.

"Anything else?" he said, voice tight.

"There was something, yes," I said, cocking my head and looking away, as though deep in thought, scouring my memory. Opening my eyes wide, eagerly, I nodded. "I remember now."

"What?" He pushed away from the pillar and took a step closer, hands fidgeting at his sides. "What is it?"

I couldn't help but notice that he was getting erect, his pants tenting from underneath. I fought not to laugh. He was just so eager to know what it was, like it was this big secret. I guess it was, for him.

I lifted my hand and curled my finger back. He came closer. I hooked my finger under the elastic band of his flannel pants and pulled until his feet were outside of mine, and mine were between his legs, a little behind him. He was close, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, could almost feel his pelvis touching my stomach. I pulled my finger out of his pants and touched it to my lips.

"This."

He looked at my lips and frowned, then glanced back up to my eyes. "Your mouth?"

I nodded and put my hands on his hips. Quite innocently, with a kind of childlike wonderment, I said, "Did you know that your penis can go in there?"

He barked with laughter and I smiled.

"Yeah," he murmured, forehead creased with thought. " You know, I think I read that in Skymall on the plane."

I laughed then. He gave me a strange look.

"You've done that before though," he said quietly, nervously.

"I know."

He shook his head. "Then what's different?"

I shrugged. "Well, there were a few things I didn't realize before."

"Like what?"

I looked down and pulled on his hips until our lower bodies were touching and his half-hard shaft was resting against my mound. Then I looked up at him through my lashes. "I didn't know that you belonged there." His lips parted and he inhaled. "I didn't know that my mouth belonged to you, Ryan, that you could put your cock in it whenever you wanted, any time, any place."

I let my hands slide down his hips, fingertips pushing under the band of his pants. He exhaled, long and slow.

"I didn't know that it was yours to use as you please."

His erection throbbed against me. I scratched the top of his ass with my nails and his cock jerked.

"I just didn't realize that you could fuck my face whenever it pleased you."

He gasped, loudly. I pulled my hands out of his pants and patted his hips, then squirmed by him and left the kitchen, telling him over my shoulder, "You know, things like that." I stopped at the bedroom doorway and turned to bat my eyelashes at him. "Would you like to fuck my face, Ryan?"

He came out of the kitchen, blinking rapidly, then he frowned.

I laughed. "I don't mean right this second."

"I don't...uhm, I..." he stammered, swallowed, and tried again. "I...uh..."

I smiled. "Maybe you should think about it."

I turned and went into the bedroom.

"Where are you going?" he said, following me, stopping near the foot of the bed when I sat down on my side. "Are we done talking?"

"Come here," I told him.

He came over and I got onto my knees on the bed. When he was standing in front of me, I put my hands on his hips and pulled him closer, then I kissed his chest and pushed my hands down the back of his flannel pants. God, his ass was tight, and hard, and oh my, he smelled and tasted so good. I kissed his chest again, a little lower, and scratched my nails up his ass, from the bottom to the very top. He shuddered and his partial erection jerked beneath his pants.

Pulling my hands up, I hooked my thumbs under the band of his pants and pushed them down. I kissed a trail down his stomach and his pants fell to the floor. His semi-hard length bounced up and nudged the bottom of my chin.

"Becca," he said softly, putting his hands on my shoulders.

I ignored him, kissing his groin, his pubic hair shaved very short, just the way I liked, the way I loved, because it was him.

"Becca, wait," he said, and his hands began to push at my shoulders.

I dug my fingernails into his hips, hard. "Don't move, Ryan." I let him hear the anger in my voice, because I swear to God, if he fucked this up, I was going to kill him. Okay, just hit him. Maybe slap him. Whatever. It worked.

He froze, hands relaxing. I let the moment drag on, immeasurably so, letting him feel my warm breath on his groin, then I picked up where I left off. His shaft was hot against my chin, hotter against my lips, soft and smooth under my tongue as I covered his cock with wet kisses and eager licks and then turned my head and took him into my mouth. He groaned and his body shivered and I pushed my lips up the length of his cock, which seemed longer than I remembered.

Then again, I'd never tried this with him before, never clawed at his hips and pulled his cock to the back of my mouth and further until he hissed. It wasn't a fight like it was with Jake, the sensation of being choked to death. It was far from that, something else entirely, something so erotic and intimate and just incredibly arousing as my husband's long cock with its broad tip slid down my throat, farther and farther, deeper and deeper, and I swear to God trying to reach my stomach.

Ryan gasped my name. I planted my lips firmly against the soft skin of his groin and swallowed around his shaft and tip, again and again, then I moaned around his cock. It flexed in my throat, strained within me, and he groaned out loud. Slowly, so very slowly, I lifted my head, changing the angle, pulling my throat off his long member so that I could suckle on his salty-sweet crown which was leaking precum onto my tongue, kissing and licking and slurping before pushing my mouth back down and letting his dick glide down my throat once more.