Page 9 of Darling Bride

He sniffs, clearing his throat. “This is…good. Pretty good.”

I watch my mother hug Diane and herd my children down the walkway. Maybe I clear my throat too.

“Yeah,” I say. “Pretty good.”

I hug my mother goodbye and help her into the truck beside Matthew. Then, after threatening my son into promising to behave, I shut the door and step back as they pull out of thedriveway. The crunch of gravel dies away. Silence falls over the ranch.

Behind me, the screen door shuts.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles in the good kind of anticipation. I’m not particularly complicated anymore. Maybe that worked its way out when I was a younger man. Now, all I need is the land under my feet and my wife at the end of the day. Maybe throw a few good meals in between, and I’m more than happy.

I go up the walkway and lock the front door. She’s in the kitchen, humming. Quietly, I walk to the end of the hall and lean against the wall to watch her. Standing right where I stood the day we met.

She’s plating dinner. The radio bubbles in the corner, by the toaster. Maddie gave that radio to her as a wedding gift, and she likes to turn it down low and listen while she cooks.

“Hey, darling,” I say.

She looks up, shaking her hair back. “You hungry, sir?”

My eyes drop, lingering over her body. “Yeah, I could eat.”

She rolls her eyes, but she loves it. I sink down at the table. Tomorrow is Tuesday, our free use night where I get to do whatever I want with her. But tomorrow we won’t have that freedom once the house is full again. When that happens, we both know we’re switching up our days so we can make a little noise while the kids are gone.

Some nights I make her crawl on her hands and knees. Fuck her, all tied up, until she’s incoherent. Other times, I lay her out on the table and eat, just to see how long it takes for her to beg for a break.

I’m not sure how I want her tonight. Not yet.

She sets the food down, a plate for each of us. We eat in silence, our hands interlocked. Then she whisks the empty platesaway and starts the coffee pot. I stay where I’m at, watching her sober face as she disappears into our bedroom.

The coffee heats, filling the room with the scent of our private rituals. The bedroom door opens behind me. I keep still, listening for her bare feet as they move past me. I glance up and my stomach flips.

She’s so damn pretty, I never get tired of looking. Over the years, I’ve picked up the subtle ways she expresses her desire. One of them is her little blue slip. She’s had to replace it a few times. Maybe that’s my fault, my hands got ahead of my head. But every time she makes one that looks just like it.

It’s been a decade and a half of that blue slip, and it still takes all my words away when she wears it.

Her blonde waves and curls tumble soft down her back. Her only jewelry are her rings and discreet collar. It’s so simple, and maybe that’s what gets me going the hardest.

Eyes down, she pours coffee and a glass of whiskey. I shift my chair back, spreading my knees. Obediently, she perches on my thigh, her toes barely reaching the floor.

I push my face gently between her neck and shoulder. She smells sweet, like the perfume she wears sometimes. When I kiss her below the ear, I taste it bitter on my tongue.

“Were you a good girl?” I murmur.

Her spine lengthens. I feel her sex pulse once against my thigh.

“Yes, sir,” she breathes.

Baring my teeth, I graze her shoulder. She moans softly, head falling to the side to give me access to her silky skin. My hand slides around her waist, turning her to straddle me. Gripping her soft thighs and wrapping them around my body.

Her breath hitches. I brush her hair back, my hand tightening on the back of her neck. Her pupils blow. Her breasts strain and I tug one shoulder of her slip down. Revealing a pink nipple,hard and inviting. My mouth closes over it and her hands wrap around my wrists. Holding tight as she lets her body go limp.

A sigh slips out. Like a little prayer on her lips.

I release her breast. “You going to be a good slut for me tonight?” I murmur.

“Yes,” she gasps, writhing. “Yes, sir.”

In one movement, I flip her around to face out. She moans as I push her slip up and pull her thong to the side. Her naked cunt is silky. When I run my fingers from her clit to her entrance, it’s so wet that my touch glides. Jaw hard, I reach between us and unleash my cock, pushing my belt and pants aside.

---