Spoken Desires Wicked Intentions

Her sexual awakening and new found freedom to indulge herself has changed Jennifer. She is finding her desires and fantasies are taking a darker turn to places they should not go. Will she follow where they lead?

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Spoken Desires - Wicked Intentions

Jennifer flicked the faucet off, shaking the last droplets of water from her fingertips. The plates in the drying rack gleamed under the kitchen light, and the scent of freshly washed counters filled the air. It was an ordinary moment, another tick in the routine of her day. She reached for the dish towel, intending to move on to the next task--fold the laundry, check the mail, something.

But then--

A thought. A flicker. A whisper of something unexpected.

It wasn't something she had been dwelling on, not something that had been building. It came from nowhere, like a sudden gust of wind throwing open a door. One second she was wiping her hands dry, and the next, she was standing completely still, her breath caught somewhere between awareness and a distant pull.

Something changed in her perspective at that exact moment. He had been a fixture in her life that blended so seamlessly into her world that she never gave him a second glance. They had shared milestones, celebrated birthdays and graduations, rejoiced in victories, and made memories during holidays and vacations. He was safe. Familiar. A given. She remembered the first time she met him before she was married, at a family gathering, a gawky teenager, all awkward limbs. He was hesitant with her, navigating the moment with the uncertainty that often comes with teenage inexperience.

A key turned in her mind and the lock clicked open... The lanky boy she first met was gone, replaced by a man who seemed to take up all the space in the room. He stood at least seven inches taller than her now, his frame solid. Jen thought about him...the breadth of his shoulders, so different from the lanky boy she once knew. Her thoughts strayed, unbidden, curiosity creeping in as she wondered just how much he had grown--not just in height and muscle, but everywhere... A warmth spread through her at the thought, unexpected and unwelcome, and she quickly looked away, her pulse quickening. It was ridiculous, really--this was Andy, the same boy she had known forever. And yet, he wasn't. Not anymore.

In the months that followed, Jen found her thoughts drifting back to Andy more often than she cared to admit. It had started innocently enough--little moments where she'd recall how different he looked now, how his voice had deepened, how he carried himself with a quiet confidence that made it impossible to see him as the shy boy she once knew. But those thoughts, once fleeting, had begun to linger, twisting into something else entirely. She caught herself wondering what his hands would feel like on her skin, how strong he really was, how easily he could move her if he wanted to. At night, when she was alone, her mind ventured even further into dangerous territory--imagining him above her, pressing her down, his body heavy and unrelenting. The seed that had been planted the moment she realized he was a man had taken root, growing into something wicked, something she couldn't shake. It wasn't just curiosity anymore.

When Jen learned that Andy would be flying in for their cousin's wedding, a sharp jolt of anticipation shot through her, quickly tangled with something dangerously close to panic. She told herself it was just excitement but deep down, she knew better. These last few months had changed things, twisted her thoughts into something she wasn't sure she could hide when they were finally face to face. Would he notice the way she looked at him now? Would she be able to keep her voice steady, her body still, when every inch of her was humming with restless energy at the thought of standing close to him? The war inside her raged--anxiety clawing at her ribs, warning her to stay distant, to be careful, while need whispered something darker, something reckless. What would she do when she saw him? When she spoke to him? Would her voice betray her, or worse, would her body? The thought left her breathless, nerves fraying.

Jennifer had spared no effort in preparing for the wedding, every detail meticulously chosen with a singular goal--to look breathtaking. She sat in front of the mirror, smoothing a hand over her freshly styled brown hair, the soft bangs grazing her cheek just enough to add an air of mystery. Her makeup was flawless, a smoky eye look accentuating the depth of her brown gaze, a hint of color on her lips to complete the effortlessly sultry look. The emerald green dress she had chosen was a masterpiece in itself--sleeveless, backless, and hugging her every curve before stopping just at mid-thigh. It was elegant, appropriate for the occasion, but undeniably sexy, the rich color making her skin glow. The relentless hours she had poured into the gym were on full display, her toned arms and sculpted back highlighted with every movement. Slipping into her sheer black thigh-high stockings, she felt the silk glide up her legs, a luxurious contrast to the lacy black bra and panty set she had chosen underneath--her little secret, her armor. And then, the final touch--her black patent leather Louboutin heels. Four inches of perfection, arching her feet just enough to set her calves at the perfect tension, making each step a statement. As she stood, smoothing the fabric of her dress, she took a deep breath. Tonight, she wasn't just showing up. She was making sure Andy saw her--really saw her.

Jen adjusted the strap of her dress, a slow, deliberate motion that allowed her fingertips to graze the smooth fabric against her skin. The emerald green shimmered under the low reception lighting, accentuating the elegant curve of her back. She felt powerful in it. Beautiful. Dangerous. A woman with secrets wrapped tightly beneath a façade of perfection.

Her husband stood nearby, engaged in casual conversation with his brother, unaware of the electric undercurrent pulsing through her veins. Jen sipped her wine, scanning the room, her gaze flickering toward Andy. He was deep in laughter with his own company, relaxed, unaware that he had already become the subject of her quiet curiosity. The once-gangly presence of her nephew had matured into something more defined.

Perhaps it was the cut of his suit, how well it framed his physique, or the way his laughter seemed richer, deeper than before. Or perhaps it was something within her, something that had awakened--a hunger that craved the thrill of walking the razor's edge.

She let the thought settle, savoring it. It wasn't reckless, not yet. It was only an observation. A curiosity.

But curiosity, when fed, has a way of growing.

The night carried on with a rhythm of clinking glasses, warm chatter, and the occasional burst of laughter from the dance floor. When Andy drifted toward her, offering some offhanded comment about the music, Jen turned slightly, allowing the scent of his cologne to mix with the warmth of the room.

"You're enjoying yourself tonight," she mused, her voice laced with something light, teasing.

Andy chuckled, his hands slipping into his pockets. "Shouldn't I be?"

Jen tilted her head, lips curving. "Of course. It's a celebration."

Jennifer knew how to play the game without ever making it obvious. A fleeting glance, just a second longer than necessary, her lashes lowering as if she were considering something unspoken. The way her fingers absently traced the rim of her glass, slow and deliberate, as she listened to him speak. When she laughed, she leaned in just a little, close enough that he could catch the faintest hint of her perfume--warm, intoxicating. Her hand would brush his, so light it could have been accidental, but the way her lips quirked afterward told him otherwise. And then there were the pauses, the moments where she held his gaze in a crowded room, letting the silence stretch just enough to make his pulse quicken before she turned away, leaving him wondering if he had imagined it all.

The music pulsed through the air, a steady rhythm guiding their movements as they laughed and swayed together in the crowded space. Jennifer moved effortlessly, her body flowing with the beat, never too overt, never drawing attention--except his. She shifted her angles just so, letting the dim, flashing lights catch the curve of her hips, the arch of her back, the way her dress clung in all the right places. When she spun, her gaze found Andy's for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement and something else--something just for him--before she twirled away again, lost in the group. Her fingertips grazed her collarbone, adjusting a strap that didn't need fixing, and when she laughed, tossing her hair over one shoulder, it felt like a whisper meant only for him. Each movement was subtle, deliberate, a silent invitation he was becoming increasingly aware of, though no one else seemed to notice.

The crowd swelled around them, the energy electric, bodies moving in rhythm as Jennifer and Andy drifted from the others, lost in the pulse of the music. She twirled, her back to him now, her silhouette illuminated in the shifting lights. Andy hesitated, his hands finding her hips, his grip light, uncertain. Their movements fell into sync, his touch guiding but never claiming, a respectful space still lingering between them. But Jennifer wasn't one for hesitation. Without a word, she shifted, pressing back into him, her curves fitting against him with effortless precision. Andy stiffened, a sharp inhale barely audible over the music, but Jennifer only smiled, rolling her hips with a slow, teasing motion. Up. Down. A deliberate rhythm that sent heat coiling in his stomach. Andy's fingers tensed against her waist, his restraint palpable, but Jennifer only leaned in further, her body speaking a language meant for him alone.

Then the music slowed. The atmosphere changed.

He hesitated, as if unsure whether to take her hand, whether to close the space between them. Jen decided for him, stepping into the moment, allowing her palm to find his, guiding him into the dance. It was innocent--at least in appearance. The playful teasing of their fast-paced dance melted into something more intimate, her body pressing just close enough to keep him aware of her presence, her every shift a deliberate whisper against him. Her fingers skimmed the back of his neck, feather-light, as she swayed. She didn't push, didn't make it obvious, but the way her hips barely brushed his, the way her chest subtly rose against his own, was enough. And then she felt it--the unmistakable response to her teasing, firm against her stomach. Heat curled in her core, a thrill running up her spine, but she didn't falter. Instead, she let the moment stretch, her hands slipping just a little lower on his back, holding him there, letting him feel that she knew exactly what she had done.

Jennifer suddenly stilled, her brows lifting as if in mock surprise. She took a small step back, just enough to create space, her lips parting as if she had just noticed something scandalous. "Andy," she said, her voice laced with feigned shock, eyes wide with playful accusation. "Is that--?"

Andy froze, his face draining of color before flushing a deep red. Panic flickered in his eyes, and he immediately let go of her, stepping back as if burned. "Oh God--Jennifer, I--I'm so sorry," he stammered, his voice barely audible over the music. His hands shot up, palms open in surrender, his expression stricken. "Please don't--don't tell anyone, okay? I swear, I didn't mean to--I wasn't trying to--" His words tangled over themselves in a desperate attempt to undo what had already happened, his frantic gaze searching hers for mercy.

Jennifer held her serious expression for a beat longer, letting him squirm before a slow, wicked smile curved her lips. And then--she laughed. A warm, sultry sound that sent relief and confusion crashing into Andy all at once. She leaned in, her fingers grazing his wrist, grounding him as she tilted her head. "Relax, Andy," she murmured, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "It's actually kind of flattering." She let the words sink in, her gaze never wavering from his. "Besides... I was hoping you'd like it."

Andy stood frozen, his breath shallow, his pulse pounding in his ears as he stared at Jennifer, caught between two warring emotions--desire and fear. His mind scrambled to process what had just happened, the playful tease that had nearly sent him into a full-blown panic, only for her to twist it effortlessly into something else, something intoxicating. Her words replayed in his head--I was hoping you'd like it--and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to run or pull her back into his arms. The heat in her eyes was unmistakable, but so was the control she wielded, like she knew exactly how much power she had over him in this moment.

As the final notes of the song melted into the air, Jennifer leaned in again, her lips brushing close to his ear. "I'm going back to the table," she murmured, her voice smooth, deliberate. "I'll excuse myself to the ladies' room. You're going to wait two minutes, then tell everyone you need to step outside for some fresh air." She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, a knowing smile curving her lips. "And when you do... meet me in the coat check room." Her fingers traced lightly down his arm before she turned toward the table, pausing only to glance at him one last time. "Is that alright with you?"

Andy swallowed hard, his throat dry, his body tense with anticipation and uncertainty. He couldn't speak, could barely think, but he found himself nodding. Jennifer's smile deepened--satisfied, assured--and then, just like that, she was gone, leaving him standing in the middle of the dance floor, the air thick with the promise of what was to come.

Andy slipped into the coat check room, his breath uneven, his pulse hammering in his throat. The dim light barely reached the back of the space, where Jennifer stood waiting, her body half-hidden in the shadows. The moment their eyes met, there were no words--just a magnetic pull that snapped between them, drawing them together in a fevered clash of mouths and bodies. There was no time for hesitation, no space for tenderness--just the urgent, unspoken agreement between them that this had to be quick, hard, and consuming. Their hands were frantic, their breaths sharp, their bodies moving with a desperate hunger that refused to be denied. The risk of discovery only heightened the tension, making every touch, every movement, all the more electric. This wasn't about romance; it was about raw, unfiltered need, a moment stolen in the shadows before the world came crashing back in.

Jennifer gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him flush against her, a muffled gasp leaving her lips as Andy's large hands claimed her hips, sliding down to seize the curves of her backside. He crushed her against him, the force of it stealing her breath, pressing her into the solid heat of him. Her fingers dipped lower, a teasing, knowing touch that had him stiffening further beneath her palm, his sharp inhale cutting through the silence.

Andy didn't hesitate, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her dress, fingers skimming along the inside of her thigh before pressing into her, filling the space that ached for him. His large finger filled her making her knees buckle, her breath catching in a strangled whimper, but she didn't falter--the excitement she was experiencing was evident in her wetness. His fingers slid easily in and out of her creating a friction that started to build a pressure low in her abdomen.

Jennifer's fingers moved with purpose, her touch both eager and measured as she worked to free him. She started at his belt, slipping the leather from its loop with a slow, fluid motion before unfastening the buckle with a soft metallic clink. Her nails brushed against his abdomen as she popped open the button of his pants, the muscles beneath her touch tightening in response.

She let the tension hang between them for a second, savoring the way his breath hitched, his anticipation palpable. Then, with a slow, deliberate tug, she eased down his zipper, the sound barely audible over the pounding of their hearts. The fabric parted, and she pressed her palms to his hips, slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs. With one firm motion, she pushed them downward, allowing gravity to take over as they pooled at his feet.

Jennifer took a moment, her eyes flicking downward, drinking him in. A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips as she reached out, her fingers skimming along the length of him in admiration before wrapping around him, feeling the heat, the weight of him in her grasp. Jennifer let her fingers explore him first, savoring the contrast between the heat of his skin and the firmness beneath her touch. She traced her thumb along the ridge, feeling him twitch in response, a flicker of satisfaction curling in her stomach at the power she held at this moment.

She knew what she was doing to him--knew from the way his fingers flexed at his sides, the sharp inhale he tried to contain. She liked that. Liked knowing that she had unraveled him this much already. But there was more she wanted. More she wanted to hear, to feel, to taste.

She sank to her knees, a flicker of admiration in her gaze. The air between them was thick, charged, the sound of his ragged breathing stirring something primal inside her. With a slow, measured descent, she parted her lips and took him in, letting her tongue glide against the sensitive skin, relishing the weight of him on her tongue. He was thick, stretching her mouth, and she fought her gag reflex, focusing instead on the way his body reacted--the shudder in his breath, the way his fingers clenched in her hair.

She moved with intent, taking him deeper, adjusting, testing her limits. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that sent a thrill through her. That's it, she thought. That's what I want. She wasn't doing this just to tease anymore--she wanted to wreck him, to have him undone completely before he took her the way she needed him to.

Her hand tightened around the base, her rhythm steady as she worked him with both mouth and fingers, coaxing him to full, aching readiness. Every flick of her tongue, every hollow of her cheeks, was calculated, designed to push him to the very edge--but not over. Not yet. Because when the moment came, when he finally took control, she wanted him desperate. She wanted him ravenous. And judging by the way his body tensed, by the strangled sound he made as his fingers grabbed at her hair, she had him exactly where she wanted him.

Andy pulled Jennifer to her feet, his grip firm as he guided her back against the counter, his breath heavy, his eyes dark with intent. There was no hesitation now, no second-guessing--only need, raw and urgent, pushing them both past the point of control. Jennifer felt it too, a fire low in her belly, her pulse thrumming in anticipation. This wasn't slow, wasn't sweet--it was primal, a hunger that was now boiling over.

She barely had time to catch her breath before Andy's hands were on her, rough in their desperation but never careless. He easily picked her up by the waist and placed her on the coat room counter. He pushed up her dress, the fabric bunching at her waist, exposing smooth, heated skin beneath his fingertips. When his fingers hooked around the thin barrier of lace, shifting it aside, Jennifer shivered, her body instinctively arching toward him. This is happening, she thought, her mind fogged with anticipation. I want this. I need this.

One hand was on her hip, holding her in place, the other held his magnificent cock as he teased her entrance. She let out a breathy whimper, barely aware of the sound escaping her lips, but Andy heard it--she could tell by the way his body tensed, the way his fingers dug into her skin just a little harder. He knows exactly what he's doing to me.