In case my husband happened to notice my new jewelry, I had constructed a brief, believable story about having discovered a new, online Celtic store where I had purchased my necklace. But as I had rather expected, he heeded neither me nor my medallion. I, however, couldn't keep my hands off it, stroking it constantly, sliding my finger along the sparkling silver chain, or rubbing the edge of the cross along the length of my lower lip. My thoughts were constantly centered around Trey, as my fingers constantly caressed the gift he had given me.
Somehow we had managed to get cleaned up that afternoon before my husband got home, with Trey even managing to make it look like he'd just walked in the door himself. Ever oblivious to his wife of 17 years, my husband headed straight back to his home office to boot up his personal computer and do who knew what. He never once questioned my wet hair, silver chain, or dreamy smile.
Feeling loved and desired even while fighting of the anguish of Trey's ever-looming departure, I turned on the kitchen radio and bumped and grinded my way through dinner preparations, hands easily mixing and tossing ingredients, wondering if Trey would realize with every bite that I had prepared this for him, that my fingers had added this touch or that, in hopes of pleasing his palate as well as I seemed to be pleasing his sexual appetite. Gasping a silent laugh, I raised my hands and rocked my hips, singing along with Madonna's offer to dress up her lover.
A startled squeal squeaked through my lips when I felt Trey's body press up against mine, his hands sliding over my waist, along my ribs and up my arms 'til he held them there, fingers folded over mine, dirty dancing me right there in my kitchen with my husband just down the hall. I moaned, loving the feel of him against me, before he spun me around and pulled me close, mouthing the words to the song against my lips as his hands skimmed along my quivering length. Unthinkingly I slid my hands around his neck, holding him close, gasping at the repeated brush of lip against lip.
The sound of my husband's step in the hall had us breaking apart, Trey to the sink where he reached for a glass, and me to the counter where I slid my hands back into the mix for the chicken coating. A quick smile at Trey turned into a horrified stare as I saw the clearly defined outline of my hands on Trey's satiny blue basketball shirt. In an instant I died a thousand deaths, but while my mind shrieked in fear, my body flew into action. As my husband stepped into the room, I stepped behind Trey and slapped at his back, before stepping forcefully onto the imaginary bug I'd just brushed off him and killed. Far from realizing the true nature of things between his best friend and I, my husband praised my quick action.
Dinner was a quiet affair that night, Trey and I both exhausted from our romp in the rain, as well as our sexy interlude with the champagne bottle when we got back home. We still tangled our legs under the table, but were able to keep our hands apart for once. After dinner we all went into the den to watch a movie, the three of us quiet and content. When the movie ended, Trey and I cleaned up while my husband headed down the hall. With a quick peck on his sexy lips, I whispered that if he was going to be for another twenty minutes, I'd meet him outside –then I headed down the hall to my bedroom, feigning interest in a book until my husband snored his way into oblivion.
Slipping soundlessly out of the bed, I slid into my trusty sweats and a t-shirt, tiptoed to the door and slipped through it without a sound. Closing it quietly, I paused outside the door to Trey's room, but there was no light or sound to indicate that he was still awake. Hoping against hope, I crept down the hallway and out the French balcony doors, closing them soundlessly behind me. Turning, I muffled a scream as I bounced off Trey's chest, his hands reaching up to grasp me as my knees buckled. Laughing at my own fright, I rested my head against his neck before taking his hand and leading him across the lawn and under the apple tree where I'd wiled away hours talking with him on the phone and obeying his every erotic command as we'd shared late-night sessions of phone sex.
With a quick kiss on his lips, my tongue tasting his ever so briefly, I explained that all those times he'd had me undress and finger my wet pussy to the sound of his deep, thrilling voice, this was where I'd done it—right here, under this tree, gazing up at the stars and wishing so badly that he were there with me, on me, in me. This, right here, was my spot – his spot – our spot. And right here, in the sweet green grass, under our tree and gazing up at the stars, I needed him to hold me, just hold me, so I could have this memory when time came for him to leave.
Wrapping those strong, safe arms around me, Trey informed me that even though we were both exhausted from our loving during the day, if we laid down in that spot and curled up together, we were sure to end up fucking yet again. Grasping my hips in his big hands, he ground against me, letting me feel his thickening cock, muttering that he was halfway ready already, that he couldn't seem to get enough of me.
I moaned in delighted response. Even as satiated and peaceful as I felt, my body still quickened at his touch, my heart still raced at the sound of his sexy voice. I refused to let my mind dwell on the fact that he was leaving, and instead focused on the fact that he was here, with me, close enough to touch, taste and kiss – and I was hellbent to do all three.
Taking his hand, I tugged him down to the grass with me. He sprawled out, pillowed his hand behind his head and curled me up into his arm, my head on his shoulder. My fingers idly traced the logo on his shirt while I listened to his heartbeat under my ear, more peacefully content than I could ever remember being.
-So this is it, huh, he murmured.
Startled by his soft whisper in the quiet night air, I jumped, making him laugh. Oh, how that sweet, sexy sound rolled over my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms.
-This is what, I gasped when I was finally able to breathe again.
-This is where you are when you do all those sexy things for me on the phone?
-Yeah, I blushed. Right here...with the stars up above and the crickets watching.
-Cool. He stroked my arm, one lazy finger sliding up and down, caressing me, holding me, loving me.
-Show me, he said, turning those molten chocolate eyes on me.
-Show you what, I stammered, beginning to get nervous.
-Show me how you do it – how you lay here, talking to me, doing all those sexy things we do. Show me what it looks like when you're pulling on your nipples, licking and sucking them, making me all hard and hot on the other end of the line. Let me see it.
I stared at him, torn between lust and fear. Yes, this man had seen me naked and done incredible things to my more-than-willing body – but now he was asking me to let him watch while I pleasured myself. This was a totally different thing. This was something very private, and while we'd even done "private" things in public very recently, this was
personal
.
I wanted to tell him no, and even opened my mouth to do just that – but he just slipped his fingers into my hair and cradled my head against him, and I was lost. There was nothing I could, or would, deny this man. Feeling my shoulders tense, he rubbed the nape of my neck, soothing me.
