AN: Well this would be my fist ever Sanctuary fiction. So bear with me please. I am very interested in the dynamic between John Druitt and Helen Magnus. I think their relationship is interesting and is a canvas for creativity. Their emotional connection, although complicated, is also very simple at the same time. Although I have a gut feeling that the executive producers will most likely drown this ship (I'm really not a pessimist! . ), I think a few episodes that actual give them an opportunity to explore the then and now part of their relationship and love is much needed to add some spice to the show. But then again, as much as I love seeing Chris play Biggie, I just want to see more of John being all badass and making out with Helen. ^,^ So here we are. I hope you all enjoy this fanfiction.
Just to state. I recently watched the episode "Out of the Blue", and I was interested in the perception of the suburbs. However, I was specifically far more interested in the relationship between John and Helen (is that really a surprise?) and so this fiction takes place in this alternate universe and a semi-remake of their lives.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters at all. However, I do own part of the semi-original plotting…I think…? If I did own them they would be having so much more fun! Sigh. C'est la vie.
Quaint. That was the word he had to use to describe the neighborhood they lived in. The atmosphere was light and the neighbors were fairly quiet and friendly enough. John turned into the drive and parked his black Mercedes CL600 Coupe next to his wife's charcoal gray Audi A7. Turning off the engine, he reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed the white paper bag along with a thick case folder haphazardly stuffed with papers and sticky notes. Exiting the vehicle, he was instantly bombarded with the sound of music emanating from the residence in front of him.
A quirk of a smile plastered onto his face. His wife's creative juices were flowing thickly tonight if the choice of song she was playing was any indication. 'I wonder what other juices will be flowing tonight if I get this right,' he thought playfully. For a brief moment his smile faltered as the thoughts of the recent strain in their marriage surfaced to the forefront of his thoughts along with the argument they had earlier in the morning.
This morning had not been one of their good days. John had awoken late, a rare occurrence for him considering that he always had an alarm set for 5 A.M. every day. He had rolled over and opened one bleary eye to a set of black clock hands telling him that it was exactly 6:17 AM. After cussing up a storm from the bed to the bathroom, he showered and shaved in a span of 15 minutes followed by two cuts staunched with toilet paper. Another ten minutes had him dressed in a black pin striped suit, crisp pale blue button down shirt, silver tie, and a stubbed and throbbing toe from hitting the foot of the bed on his way to the dresser to grab some socks.
Downstairs, Helen rolled her eyes at the shouting and cursing that her husband was currently hollering above as she prepared their morning tea. Usually John would have made their breakfast while she would be caught up in her new painting series or catching up on her sleep. Most times, he would usually leave her a plate of eggs and toast and leave them on the counter for her to find after he left, but he always brought her a steaming cup of freshly brewed tea in the living room if she was up. He had always known how to make her tea even when they were dating.
Stomps descending from the stairs broke her little reverie and she finished pouring the black tea into the plain porcelain cups. She added milk to hers with two sugar cubes and set a slice of lemon next to John's cup. Unlike her husband's personality, his tea preparations were simple.
"The bloody alarm clock is broken," he practically snarled as he entered the kitchen. At seeing the tea service prepared a sigh of relief was given before he squeezed the lemon slice into his cup and took a large gulp. Helen watched with slight amusement at the wince that overcame John's handsome countenance as his mouth and throat burned from the steaming hot liquid. She hid her laughter at watching him purse his lips in the manner that spoke of his discomfort by taking a sip of her own brew. After a breath, he continued, "we need a new damn clock."
"We don't need a new clock John. I turned it off so you could sleep a little longer. I was just about to wa-"
"You what?" John sputtered, slamming his cup down onto the counter, spilling the dark amber liquid all over the spotless countertop. "Why the hell would you do that Helen! You know I have to be in the office early to review this case!"
"John!" Her voice was fierce and brooked no room for argument as her sapphire eyes locked with his, "you came home past midnight from the office and continued to stay awake until 3 this morning just poring over that case file!" She cradled her cup close to her chest, eyes breaking the connection as she stared into the golden pool of liquid on the counter. "You've barely had 3 hours of sleep and even when you do manage to rest for more than a few hours you toss and turn. Can't you see this Ripper case is wearing you out John?"
"It is my job Helen," he emphasized each syllable with a stab of his finger onto the counter between them, "what would you have me do? Hmm? Walk away from the case and let the bastard walk away scot-free? Should I simply just drop all that I have worked for up to this point and let him rape and mutilate another prostitute?"
"That is not what I am saying and you know that!"
"Then what do you want woman!"
"What I want is my bloody husband!" She retorted heatedly. As if mimicking his earlier actions, Helen slammed her own cup down and angrily walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. John closed his eyes and breathed deeply, urging the race of adrenaline pounding through his veins to simmer down. A crash of music met his ears. She was angry. The only time Helen would play heavy metal was when she was pissed off.
Rubbing his eyes, he cast a glance over his shoulder and eyed the beautiful back of his wife as she pointedly gave all her attention to the half finished canvas in front of her. He was tempted to go over to her, to talk to her again and hash out this problem. But he was late. With another sigh, he gathered his keys and files and walked out the door.
Presently, the tall male leaned against the sleek body of metal. He was currently gathering his wits about him. While at work, he drifted into his thoughts more than once. His co-workers had to continually pull him from his self deprecation several times during the meetings, some even expressing their concern; but as usual he gave a charmingly wry smile and made some excuse related to the case about his lack of attention. They accepted the excuses with ease. Whether it was from their fight or the fact that for once in all of their years of marriage, Helen had walked away from an argument, John was worried. Her stubborn pride and sharp wit always forced her to fight him tooth and nail until either one or the other gave in. But not this time.
Her physical reaction to his angered retort hurt more than her biting words alone. This was different. She was different. 'No,' John corrected, 'we are different. Nothing has been the same since this Ripper case. When was the last time we had a romantic dinner? When was the last time we just sat on the couch with a glass of wine and cuddled and stared at her paintings? Bloody hell Johnny boy, when was the last time you had sex with your wife?' The fact that he could not even remember forced his self-deprecation to morph into depression. She was right. He was not being a husband at all. He had broken his vows to her. To love and to hold and to cherish above all.
However, that was changing tonight. Tonight would be just about them. No Ripper case, no responsibilities, no worries. Just John and Helen, man and woman, husband and wife. With a new surge of confidence, he made his way towards the front door. The element of surprise was in his favor, with the music as loud as it was, John was able to unlock the front door and slip inside without her being aware. He carefully treaded down the short hallway towards the living room. There stood his magnificently beautiful wife, bathed in the soft glow of the studio and lamp lights. She had changed from her earlier outfit of earth tones into a more subdued monochrome mixture. Her skinny jeans were gray denim that hugged the full curves of her derriere and showed off the swell of her hips perfectly. The skinnies were paired with a dark gray tank top that hugged her body like a glove and he was sure that it would offer a tantalizing view of her breasts. John was usually a leg man, and it was true that Helen had a wonderful pair of legs that he could run his hands up and down all day long, but her breasts were simply delectable. Her attire was completed by a thin black shawl that hung loosely around her shoulders and elbows. He was pleased to find that she wore no shoes, her bare feet digging into the thick carpet.
Casually, he leaned against the hallway wall. Hawk like blue eyes looking her up and down, simply luxuriating at the chance to watch her in her world. He took in the sight of her stroking the canvas with streaks of red tinged with orange as she captured the afternoon hues in her scenic bridge painting. Capturing the solace and serenity one would see and even feel while walking along a bridge during that time of day. He watched as she finished the stroke, stepped back and tilted her head, as if wondering what flaw there was in the scene.
Helen closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her, guide her hand in painting the moment before her. She always enjoyed painting with music, it helped her relax and connect with the pieces she made. This was the last piece of her recent collection. These paintings were all themed for locations in which lovers could enjoy a moment together. She knew, however, that it was a reflection of her current situation with John, well the situation she wanted with John. The past few months had been hell. Ever since he took on the Ripper case, he had become more aggressive. John had always been a prideful and even obsessive male. He was at times arrogant and very, very stubborn, which was one of the many reasons he was such a successful prosecutor. The greatest lawyer in the DA Old City has ever seen in the last 50 years, or so the newspapers claimed. But with the lack of sleep and the persistent demands of his new case, John had become irritable and acerbic in his remarks and demeanor.
She was very understanding at first, knowing that the case was important to him. It may have sounded cliché, but despite his faults and seemingly aggressive nature to be the best, John took the case for personal reasons. He was sympathetic to the woman who had survived the last attack and empathetic to the few families the dead victims had. His own past was coming into play with this new case, a part of him that they had spoken little of in the beginning of their relationship. Later, when he had revealed that past, she had cried for him, cradled him, and knew that she loved this man. However, months and months of dealing with this descent into obsession was wearing her thin. They fought, much like other couples, but the fights morphed into more than just a battle of shouts followed by apologies and an exchange of loving gestures. They became vicious attacks meant to wound and scar the other party. In the end there were no comforting words, not even tears, just silence.
As the guitar melody grew in intensity, she found herself lost in the thrums of the rhythm and the deep tones of the singer. Her body began to sway, hips shifting from left to right as the words caressed her, wrapping around her body like John's arms would at night many moons ago. Little did she know of her audience silently watching her from afar.
John was enthralled by the sight of his wife so lost in her music, her art. His eyes languidly roved over her swinging hips, mesmerized by the gentle sway, captivated by the sensuality as she moved in time with the music filling the entire house. He felt himself harden at the sight of her. A tightening in his groin as the familiar stirrings of passion and desire filled his entire frame. He wanted this woman, his woman, his Helen. Using his shoulder, John maneuvered his body off the wall and made his way into the kitchen. Not wishing to disturb her ambience, he gently placed the case file and the paper bag onto the island making as little noise as possible. He was glad that the kitchen offered an open view of the living room. No walls to obstruct his sight.
After a few more moments of watching his wife dancing, John reached for the white paper bag and opened it. He removed a clear plastic container filled with thin rectangular pastries that were coated with a top layer of thinly sliced sugared almonds. Earlier, during his lunch break, John had walked towards his favorite sushi restaurant. He noticed that the lot next to the restaurant, which had undergone weeks of renovations, was finally open. Mary Anne's, it was a bakery. After having a light meal, he decided to have a look into the bakery to see what sweets it had to offer. John personally did not have a sweet tooth, but Helen certainly did, perhaps he could find something there that would suit her tastes and offer him a good basis for an apology for his not so recent abhorrent behavior.
The atmosphere of the bakery was very light and friendly. Small, yet very intimate. The woman behind the counter smiled pleasantly his way. She was short with even shorter cropped hair pulled into a Mohawk that was tinged with bright purple tips. After some small talk, John had revealed that he was looking for a desert that his wife could enjoy late at night while she painted and also one that could also work as an apology. The bakery owner had offered him the plastic box filled with what she called Almond Wafers. Apparently, women enjoyed the pastries very much and could never resist the small rectangular slices of heaven. According to her, the wafers were also good to pair with tea or coffee, John was sold. And so he had bought them and left the bakery with a rather triumphant smile.
Making sure that Helen was still thoroughly distracted by her work and music, he pried the top of the plastic cover off the container, glad that the noise he did make was muffled by his hands and music. He looked around the kitchen and found a deep burgundy dinner napkin and piled four slices of the wafers onto the cloth. He gently wrapped the treats and palmed the small bundle as he made his way towards the living room and his wife.
Helen was still unaware of her husband and his actions behind her, she had resumed her painting, adding a few more bright yellow hues to the scene as she continued to dance. It was so easy to forget the world and her problems when she painted. With her canvases, her brushes, and her music, she could paint her own truths, her own happiness. When she felt a hand snake around her waist and a large palm settle over her stomach, her heart nearly skipped a beat. She tensed for a moment before relaxing, her body instantly knowing that it was John behind her. Even before the scent of his clean aftershave and masculine cologne could invade her senses, his touch was all she needed to know that it was him. Only John could make such a simple gesture as hugging her from behind more sensual, erotic, and arousing.
"Hello darling," he murmured in that wonderfully rich deep baritone. His nose burying into the soft tresses of her hair and inhaling deeply the sweet fragrance of lavender and heather and a scent that was just utterly Helen.
"John," she exhaled softly, heart fluttering madly at the purring tone he used at the word 'darling'. This was something that he had not done in ages. She cast a glance at the clock on the wall and noted that it was only half past 9, "you're home earlier than I expected."
"Mhmm," was his only response as his nose traced the line of her jaw. The hand that he had braced upon her stomach moved to completely encompass her waist, settling at the opposite side of her hip. His lips brushed her cheek in a closed mouthed kiss.
Helen was losing the battle of her mind and body. "What are you doing home so early? I thought you wou-," she gasped loudly as his lips moved to her neck and he opened his mouth to suckle upon her rapid pulse point, her arms instinctively reaching back to grasp the back of his neck as her body arched up in pleasure, "-would be back later this evening." She finished her comment with a sigh of pleasure, eyes closed as she felt the heat of John's arousal pressing insistently into the small of her back.
His next words, whispered in her ear, made her heart melt and erased all the months of uncertainty and indifference between them, "to spend time with my enchanting wife."
"John…," she whispered, her tone laced with what sounded like tears.
"Shh, shh, my love. It's quite alright. You were right this morning. I have not been your husband at all these past few months and all the aggravation and frustration I have towards the Ripper case has been taken out on you. Please accept my apologies, darling. You are the last person I have ever wanted to hurt."
"Oh John," this was her John. The man whom she fell in love with years ago. The kind gentle man who stole her heart and held it gently in his hands, "you know I would always forgive you."
"Like a true Goddess, your heart is pure and your love everlasting," he nuzzled her neck once more, his arm squeezing her affectionately before pulling back a bit, "I do bring treasures for my Goddess as a token of my apology." He lifted the burgundy napkin to her eye level.
"And what sort of token of apology do you bring, sir?" She released her hold upon his neck and reached up to take the thick napkin. Holding the makeshift sack in one hand, the fingers of her other hand dexterously unfolded the edges to reveal the golden pastries inside. Her eyes lit up with joy as she saw the offering. She had such a sweet tooth and the little pastries looked delicious.
John watched her face casually from one side, a Cheshire grin forming over his lips at the look of complete surprise and happiness that overtook her features at the sight of the sweets. Gracefully, he plucked one almond wafer from the red nest and pressed it to her lips. "Almond wafers. I was told from a very knowledgeable source that these are tasty light snacks that go well with tea."
She easily fell into the playful game he was setting. Slightly turning her head, Helen locked her eyes with him. Her mouth opened slowly and allowed him to push the pastry into her mouth. With a seductive smirk, she bit down and savored the flaky texture of the sweet dessert. The almonds were glazed perfectly and added a pleasant crunch for every bite. "This is most definitely not a wafer John. It resembles a puff pastry more than a wafer," she quipped after swallowing.
"I am no expert in bakery items, my dear. Just merely stating what I was told," a dark chuckle reverberated against her ear, "good?" He questioned lightly.
"Oh very good, my love. You chose well," she retorted cheekily before trapping the last portion of the almond wafer between her teeth. Tugging gently, her husband was forced to release his hold on the item as she pulled it into the cavern of her mouth. Closing her eyes, she leaned back into John's embrace, not catching the darkening in his eyes as he watched her every minute movement, "very well."
"I'm glad," he stated huskily. Helen knew that tone, years of practice and intimate knowledge of each other allowed them to communicate on levels with more subtlety. Her body instantly reacted to John's voice. A rush of wetness pooling between her legs as a surge of heat flooded through her veins. Languidly, she opened her eyes, turning her head completely. When she saw the heated look in his eyes, Helen knew how this night would end. Her mind practically screamed to take him, to tear that suit of his body and ravish her fine husband until they both passed out.
John groaned in response to that mischievous twinkle in his wife's eyes. His groan turned into a growl when Helen suddenly grabbed the hand that had offered her the wafer and sucked his index finger into the warm moist cavern of her mouth. He felt her tongue swirl over the pad of his finger before running down the entire length. His mouth parted open as he watched more of his finger disappear into her luscious mouth all the way to the second knuckle. "Naughty," he grounded out roughly.
With one final swipe of her tongue, she had sufficiently cleaned his fingers of any lingering flakes and sugar. She released the long appendage and reached for a pastry herself. Turning in his arms, Helen lifted the prize to his mouth. She watched demurely as John took the entire item into his mouth. He captured the tip of her thumb with his teeth and nibbled at the flesh. He winked at her before releasing and finished chewing.
He loved how his wife blushed at his antics; the tinge of pink flowering her cheeks was flattering to her skin tone as well as his ego. Chewing slowly, he leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to her temple, lingering there as he felt her body begin to sway to the music once again. He gave into her subtle demand and pressed his hips forward, closing any space that was between them, and moved with her. Lost in the sensation of her soft body pressing against his perfectly, he allowed the music to flow through him through her.
Helen pressed even closer, one hand splayed open upon his thumping heart while the other that held the napkin remained lightly curled and pressed against her breast and his abdomen. Both became lost in the sensation of the other, trapped in a world where there were no outsiders, no interference, nothing to stop them from being together, from having this night for themselves. The song finally ended and the small peace they achieved was broken. John was the first to move, his arms, which had wrapped around her completely through their dance, slid to grip her waist tightly; holding her firmly against him still. Soon after, those magnificently large hands of his roamed over the small of her back and drifted downwards to palm the firm yet soft cheeks of her arse.
Helen chuckled and lifted her head to stare into the blazing eyes of her husband. She arched a fine dark brow in question and tossed a teasing glance over her shoulder at his hands firmly clasped against her derriere and looked pointedly back at him, "something you wanted, love?"
"Something indeed," he responded lightly, both his eyebrows shooting up comically as a devilish grin wove itself onto his face. John watched as his wife lifted up the burgundy dinner napkin once more and retrieved yet another pastry. She waved the little snack in front of him, no words were needed as he understood what she wanted. He contemplated his next move. Picking up the last remaining pastry would require him to remove atleast one hand from the perfect curves of her bottom.
As if reading his mind, Helen was quick to scold him, "what is the worst that can happen if you remove one palm from my ass, John?"
"For all I know the world may very well end, my dear. And if not, you might escape my being and leave me bereft to suffer in loneliness for all eternity," his dramatic speech was delivered with a pout.
"The cheek of this man," Helen muttered breathlessly at the same moment her heart again melted at his words. John, in the confines of their home and privacy, was a playful man. She knew others only saw his harsh, stoic exterior laced with some old world charm; but with her, he was always open, teasing and easily fell into their casual and light banter. She had watched this man rip apart the defense with his sharp wit and tongue and caress and glorify every inch of her body as if she were a fragile glass statue that would shatter at even the slightest pressure. Before any other thought crossed her mind, John released a feigned annoyed sigh before lifting one hand from her buttocks and pick up the last remaining pastry.
Triumphantly grinning, Helen moved her pastry closer to his mouth and John swiftly gobbled the entire piece without preamble, making an effort to torture her by licking both her fingers in the process. At the same time he had lifted his own piece to her mouth level and she took a more subdued bite of her offering, finishing off the almond wafer in two bites rather than wolfing it down as John did. When she swallowed the last bit, she pressed a kiss to his thumb. She peered at him from under her lashes as a shy smile overtook her features, one of her hands roving towards his broad shoulder as fingers absentmindedly caressed one of his ears. This time, it was John who found his breath hitching at the innocent gaze she aimed towards him. He lowered his head and with slow and deliberate movements, he brushed his lips lightly across her full ones, "I want only you, Helen."
"Kiss me, John," his words of want opened a carnal ache within her. This man only wanted her and by God, she craved and needed him.
"I believe, my lady, that I already have."
"No, a proper kiss," her tone was stern but the timbre of her voice spoke of an ache that needed to be sated.
"As the lady wishes," he muttered helplessly against her lips before capturing the full plump tiers in a fierce impassioned kiss. Helen had kissed plenty of boys in her youth prior to meeting John. And they were just that, boys. This kiss, full of erotic passion and burning desire, was the kiss of a man. A virile man.
Instinctively, her mouth flowered open, giving him access. John was quick to plunder his tongue into the moist cavern of her mouth. He swiftly invaded every inch he could before he felt Helen's own tongue begin to duel his in that dance for dominance. Briefly, he raised his white flag and retreated. His wife was quick to stake her own claim over him, twisting with his own tongue for a few seconds before tracing his palate and the roof of his mouth. Helen was becoming light headed from the lack of oxygen, but she wanted more, she did not want the kiss to end.
Throwing her arms around his neck, Helen realized she must have moaned at some point as she felt a rising growl vibrate in John's chest, a type of growl that answered, never stated. Finally, their intimate connection was broken by a gasp when her entire body was lifted, her legs automatically wrapping around John's narrow waist as he carried her from the center of their living room towards the couch. He deposited her among the thick cushions as gently as a man in a haze of passion could, before kneeling on the floor in front of her like a servant paying respects to his queen. Balancing her weight on her elbows, Helen still had to look up at the towering form of her lover despite him being on his knees in front of her.
He couldn't resist the woman in front of him. She was staring at him with such raw devotion and desire that John had to lean forward and capture her lips in yet another heady kiss. His palms massaged over her out thighs, gliding sinfully towards her hips before trailing the edges of his fingertips along the low slung waistline of her skinny jeans. There, his hands met at the center. A gentle tug and the button was undone, another tug and the sound of the zip could be heard. Helen broke the kiss long enough to slide her hands underneath his business jacket and unceremoniously shove it down the length of his arms to pool onto the floor behind him. John growled again against her mouth as he was forced to remove his hands from her skin in order for the jacket to successfully meet its doom with the rug. Free once more, his hands were quick to return, this time sliding underneath the tank top to make full contact with her flushed and heated skin.
Helen's back arched in complete surrender to his touch, the heat from his hand burning a trail over her already sensitive skin. His hands were calloused, the only indication that John had other hobbies aside from sitting at a desk or standing in the court room. Skimming over her ribcage, those well-experienced hands settled on the underside of her breasts as his mouth suddenly tore away from hers before attacking her throat with vicious intent. His teeth nipped at the flesh of her collarbone, leaving red trails of teeth marks and hickeys all the way to the slope of her breasts. She almost forgot how possessive John could be in the midst of their lovemaking. There were times she was forced to wear scarves in the middle of summer just to hide some of his more amorous displays of affection.
With her lover thoroughly distracted in reacquainting himself with the hills and valleys of her décolletage, Helen decided to actually get some semblance of motion in this little act. Her fingers were quick to loosen his tie, the silk material slithering to the floor. Next were the buttons of his shirt. She cursed underneath her breath when her fingers fumbled with the tiny buttons and it sure as hell did not help with John being less than cooperative in giving her better access with his head bent over as well as blocking the view of her hands. Without any warning and just a tinge of annoyance, she quickly tore open his shirt, buttons ripping off and flying in all sorts of directions.
It seemed her breasts were efficient in distracting her husband since he continued to flower them with kisses and suckles despite the fact that she ruined one of his shirts, most likely, beyond repair. He did, however, respond when she removed her tank top and stopped him in mid-suckling to frown at her. An arch of her brow should have stopped his next comment, but John ignored all warning signs and quipped rather ruefully, "I was in the middle of something there."
"I was very much aware of that," she bantered back as she stared down at the glistening hickey at the center of her cleavage. She had to grudgingly admit, it was a rather impressive hickey.
"Well, I must say, the view is much better than it was before," the tenor of his bedroom voice caused a shiver to run down her spine. The man was too damned good when it came to seduction. She noted, with a stroke of feminine satisfaction, that he was enraptured by the sight of her full ample breasts encased in the bright red lace bra she wore. Not one to be deterred so easily, John suavely gave her another long, slow, sensual kiss. One that robbed her of all ability to think as one hand slipped behind her back and unclasped her brassiere. As much as he enjoyed watching Helen parade around in her knickers and bras, and indeed it was a glorious sight, it was a massive hindrance to his plans for the night.
That piece of underwear was thrown over his shoulder and his hands finally palmed the swell of her naked breasts. They fit his hands perfectly, as if made to be glorified by him alone. John's thumbs stroked the nipples of her breasts until they pebbled and peaked under his ministrations. A moan escaped her lips and John greedily swallowed the sound. Again, he broke the kiss, both breathing deeply, sharply; the air sliced through their lungs with each breath. With one kiss to her lips, and two more for each nipple, John traced down the length of her body back to her jeans. Hooking both thumbs into the waistband, he gently peeled off the fabric exposing inch after delicious inch of her long legs.
Naked, except for her matching red knickers, Helen looked beyond splendid. The moonlight from their open curtains bathed her in an effervescent white glow and the studio lights splashed a golden tone to her skin. When he had described her as a Goddess earlier, it was no jest. She did indeed look like a Goddess, resplendent and unearthly in her cushioned haven.
"Beautiful. Such utter perfection and it is all mine," he murmured gently as his head moved between her legs and teeth lightly sank into the soft skin of her inner thigh. A sharp intake of breath; nails digging into the taut skin at the back of his neck, and Helen Druitt was lost in a sea of pure sensations. John repeated the process to the other thigh, inching closer and closer to her dripping sex. Reaching his destination, he nuzzled the damp lace cloth there, intentionally pressing his nose against her clit forcing her to buck her hips against his face. Satisfied, he inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar scent of his wife at the peak of her arousal.
"John…please…," she mindlessly whispered. The feeling of him pressed against her body so intimately was driving her insane. She needed more. So much more. And only he could fulfill her needs. John smirked. He was driving this woman wild; she was begging him to pleasure her. And pleasure her he would.
He rearranged her a bit on the couch. Planting her heels at the edge of the furniture left her open to his gaze which caused her to blush. She was practically splayed open for him. Warm hands cupped her bum, raising her slightly off the couch. A light tap to one of her cheeks signaled his desire for her to remain like that for a bit. With measured movements, he managed to slide her damp knickers down her thighs to her knees. He lifted one leg up before sliding it through the flimsy hole and respectfully planted it back into its original position and repeated the process with her other leg. He pocketed the scrap of fabric which earned him a playfully reproachful glare from her.
"And what do you think you are going to do with that?" Her piqued curiosity demanded an answer.
"My, such a forward question for a demure lady to be asking," he teased.
Helen scoffed, with her half reclined on the couch stark naked with her legs wide open for his viewing, she was far from the image of a demure woman. "Continue teasing me, dear husband, and I will leave you down here to suffer while I seek my pleasure without your help."
"Now, now, now. We can't have that now can we?" He winked at her leaning forward to kiss the soft skin just underneath her belly button, causing her to quiver in anticipation, "I was just going to lay it underneath my pillow tonight to provoke pleasant dreams about the owner of such fine underthings."
She had a witty retort to his revelation but was lost in a scream when his mouth quickly descended to her dripping mound, thrusting his tongue deep into her slit. Unprepared for the attack, her arms shot up, nails digging into the cushions and legs pushed her hips closer to his face, "oh dear God!"
Snarling with male satisfaction at her unexpected scream, John forced her hips back down. He enjoyed feasting on his wife like this; her taste was so unique, so addicting, his mouth watered every time he thought about tasting her. He traced her outer lips first, catching a few swipes at her clit to keep her stimulated before delving back in between her folds. He swiped his tongue along her walls once, twice, before pulling out once more. He sucked at her juices for a few seconds longer before releasing. His teeth clamped down around her clit, his eyes roving over her stretched body, enjoying the way her breasts heaved with every short breath she took. The way her arms gripped the cushions around her as she lost herself to him. He fluttered the tip of his tongue against that plump bundle of nerves with the speed akin to a hummingbird's wing, not once breaking contact with her face.
Eyelids snapped open, blue orbs dark as the moon reflected over the glassy shade. She felt it, growing at the pit of her stomach. Tightening like a coil. Then snap. Helen looked down, the last thing she saw was the crystallized gaze of John's vivid sapphire eyes staring right back at her before her orgasm rocked her body. Another scream, a much louder, keening scream tore through the music. One arm dropped gripping at the smooth skin of her husband's bald head as her back arched up in release. She did not feel John's arm wrap around her waist, pulling her back down onto the couch. Nor did she feel him slip two fingers into her quivering sex, rubbing at that sensitive flesh that stretched her orgasm moments longer. All she could feel was complete and utter bliss. Mind-numbing bliss that seemed to stretch out forever.
John retracted his fingers from her pussy. Enjoying the feeling of her creamy juices smeared across the long digits and sliding down towards his palm. He gave one last lick at her clit and moved to wrap his mouth around the opening before sucking out the remaining juices that flowed from her body like a river. He savored every last drop and one swipe had her clean. Her body continued to shake uncontrollably as he urged her legs down from their perch, massaging the limbs before sliding them down towards the floor.
He settled his chin onto her stomach and waited for her to stop shaking and finally return to the real world. When her eyes finally opened, he could not help but simply flash a lopsided half cocky grin. She shook her head and laughed. Slowly, she was starting to become aware of her surroundings once again and her breaths finally evened out. Hazily, the hand that was still perched upon his head smoothed down the side of his face. Tracing the curve of his cheek, the edge of his jaw line, and finally settle to tap over his still wet chin. He slanted his head and kissed her fingertips, still refusing to break eye contact with her.
"Make love to me, John."
His eyes closed briefly, savoring the moment, the gentle caress of her voice upon his ears as she whispered those sentiments. No words were spoken, none were needed. He stood then, his full height, uncuffing his dress shirt before tugging it off. His hands dropped to the leather belt but her movement caught his attention. She sat up on the couch, both hands reaching out to stop his. She moved them away from the buckle of his belt. Her small slender fingers traced over the prominent bulge in his pants, a soft groan of surrender the only indication that was enjoying her touch. A sudden desire to undress him herself became strong and so she tugged and unlatched the belt before unbuttoning his trousers. Due to the insistence of his hard-on, the zipper seemed to press downwards of its own accord, giving him only slight release.
John let the striped black fabric pool at his feet before toeing off his shoes and to Helen's surprise and slight amusement his socks as well. There he stood before her, in only his black boxer briefs. Helen leaned back onto the couch, arms moving to stretch out across the back of the hump. One hand lazily traced her lips before the nail of her index finger was trapped between pearly white teeth in deep thought and concentration. All the while, John just stood there waiting for her command.
Helen had to admit, her husband was a prime example of a fine male specimen. He was the epitome of masculine virility. Tall, broad shouldered, wide chest rippling with pectorals, abdomen flat and taut with muscles. His thighs were muscular and his legs long. With a devilish smirk of her own, Helen released the trapped fingernail only to twirl that finger in a circular motion, indicating to John that he should turn around. With a rather ungentlemanly snort, he did as he was told and present his back to her. She ignored the snort and continued her appraisal of her husband's assets. The muscular lines of his back were just as breathtaking, tapering down to a narrow waist. She spent a few moments longer just eyeing the small yet firm globes of his ass before completing her survey.
As if on cue, John once again returned to facing her. A full-fledged grin now plastered to his face. On an egotistical level, he was glad that his wife obviously approved of his physical condition. Helen chose to ignore his self satisfied smirk and continued her perusal; there was only one part of his anatomy she had yet to fully scrutinize. Her sight zeroed onto his crotch. She felt somewhat sympathetic for him as his erection seemed to be trapped between his thigh and the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs. She could clearly make out the shape of the head poking out against his leg. Taking pity on him, Helen slid her finger downwards.
John slowly eased down his boxer briefs; a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he finally released his erection from the tight confines. When he stood straight once more, his eyes naturally sought out its accompanying twin. The desire that he saw there made him swell all the more, although the sight of her fully nude with her pert breasts aimed at him along with her long legs tucked underneath her did help in the swelling department.
Helen bit her bottom lip, chewing on the flesh as her gaze remained trained on John's swollen cock. Although she had never verbally commented on his equipment, she still very much thought about it. To place in rather lament terms, John was more than well-endowed in that department. She had seen her fair share of them to compare as well. There was a phase in her artistry in which she dabbled in nude art. A phase that at the time her current husband had been her boyfriend did not enjoy but still supported. And despite all the models she had become intimately acquainted with, none had ever come close to John, none. He certainly had nothing to worry about.
He noted her faraway look, something that he had to admit he did not enjoy. Well truly, what man could stand the prospect that his lover's thoughts were wandering away while he stood stark naked in front of her. None. With one long stride, he closed the distance between himself and Helen. He leaned forward to grip her hips, making sure the hold was not too tight, but firm enough to pull her out of her deep reverie. His tactic worked, he watched his wife slightly shake her head before looking at him with a slight furrow in her brows.
"And where were you just then, Helen?"
The blush that graced her cheeks was a deep crimson. "Nowhere," she replied quickly, too quickly. She did not want to admit to John that she had been mentally comparing his cock to others she had seen, especially the fact that so far he had won all the rounds. No, even that was embarrassing for her. 'Besides,' she thought skeptically, 'his head's already large enough.' She mentally groaned, 'pun not intended!'
A brow was lifted at her rather quick response but he did not push. A nagging feeling told him that he would lose that verbal spar within seconds if he did. Instead, John gently eased his wife higher on the couch, his knees sinking into the edge of the cushions. He settled her bottom right on top of his thighs, her legs hooking around his waist, and their body connecting intimately for the first time. The underside of his rigid cock was nestled firmly against her pulsing core. Despite having licked her clean earlier, Helen's arousal was flowing heavily and coated his erection with its slick juices. She rocked her hips, nudging that thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock to rub against her clit, sending shivers of delight to run along her spine.
Soon John picked up her rhythm, and together they rocked against one another. The pace was slow, steady. Their breaths mingling as lips connected for brief kisses before attentions were returned to their rocking. A thin sheen of perspiration covered both their bodies, the warmth that had gathered upon their flesh rose into a heated conflagration. Not being able to take much more of the torture, John pulled back, the grip on her hips tightening painfully so, she was sure he would leave bruises in the morning. He lifted Helen up, position his cock at her dripping center.
"Now, Helen. Please, darling, I need you," he begged her, urged her. With John balancing her with his hands, she reached down between them and wrapped her fingers around the thick shaft. The tips of her index finger and thumb barely met. She knew what he was asking of her. She guided him to her moist slit, teasingly both of them by running the massive mushroom head up and down, making sure to pass along her clit each time. With a shuddering breath, she pressed him closer to her opening, both their hips moving in that age old dance, compensating in synch until they matched. She released him and in a slow, hard thrust, John impaled her.
She sucked in a hard breath, hands moving to that boundary where his neck met his shoulders, nails latching deeply into the skin causing crescent indents to mold into his skin. Her recent orgasm still hadn't prepared her for the sensation of being stretched so thinly, but then again, all of their years of coupling still had not prepared her for the sensation. It always felt new, breathtaking, and slightly painful.
She was grateful when her lover stopped, giving her a moment to catch her breath. One of his hands moved to brace his weight on the back of the couch, also giving him an opportunity to change the angles of their body. With her more reclined and her weight resting mainly on their connected hips, maneuvering would be easier for him. John tried to slow his pounding heart, tried to regain some semblance of control before he spiraled into insanity and gave into that primal urge to just pound the woman beneath him. 'Calm down Johnny. Tonight has to be about her,' he thought vigorously, 'but God! She's so bloody tight!'
Helen tugged on his ear, their mutually accepted signal of "go ahead and do it." His other hand lifted from her hip and with a tenderness that was at odds with his desire to ravish this gorgeous woman, her cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her sweetly. She trembled. He thrust. The remaining inches of his cock was buried into her warm wet pussy. She broke the kiss, her body shaking in a mixture of pleasure and pain as her nails dragged viciously from his neck down towards his bulging biceps. John buried his face into her neck, a ragged groan dragged from the pits of his stomach and floated towards her ears. Lord have mercy, she was so fucking tight. It couldn't have been that long since their last raunch!
After a moment longer, he slowly withdrew, not wanting to hurt her. He eased his hips back in, setting a slow but steady rhythm. Helen thanked God that she was soaked in arousal, it helped his thrusts ease into her passage with less friction. Soon that pool of heat once again centered in the pit of her belly, the feeling of John above her, inside her, all around her, was intoxicating. The scent of his aftershave, his cologne, mixed with the oils of his body creating an ambrosia that drove her wild with need. When he pulled back out and thrust back in, she tilted her hip upwards, meeting him with a tender slap of sweat soaked skin. This movement caused him to instinctively reward her with a double thrust.
"Oh God! John!" She hollered, nails digging deeper into his biceps, clawing at the taut skin there. "Harder!" They could go slow and tender later, right now she wanted hard and fast.
A feral grin formed over his long face, mentally sending a thank you to the heavens for creating such a wonderfully vivacious and passionate woman. Without any warning, he slightly parted his knees for better leverage and practically crushed the underlying wooden frame of the couch's hump beneath his fingertips before his hips drove into her with a vengeance. John pounded into his wife as hard as he could, wanting only to fulfill her demand of 'harder'. He moved with blinding speed, the muscles of his thighs visibly clenching as his back locked into position, his hip was the only thing moving, driving hard against her pelvis, pushing her closer and closer to the precipice.
Helen was losing herself quickly; her husband always had this affect on her. He always knew how to drive her over the edge whether it was with his body, his hands, his tongue, or his voice; he simply just knew exactly how to get her off. Her hips met his, thrust for thrust, the walls of her pussy clamping tightly around him, milking every thick solid inch of his cock. She was reaching that peak faster than even she had expected. Perhaps it was from the lack of intimacy in the past few months, or the fact that he was just too damned good at doing it.
"Yes! My God! Yes, John!" Her screams bounced off the walls of their living room, mixing with the strums of a guitar and the pounding rhythm of the drums. Her eyes, which had closed sometime earlier, tore open when she felt John pause, shift, and drive into her in an upwards angle. The bulbous head of his cock slid across that spot, that tender bundle of flesh, before kissing her womb. "Again, again!"
Helen Druitt was mindless, utterly mindless in his arms. He shoved in once again, the slick warmth of her womanhood clutching to him like a lifeline as he once again hit that spot he knew would make her shriek in ecstasy. And he was well rewarded for his efforts with another long string of 'oh god!', 'yes, John!', 'so good!', and even one 'bloody hell!', in varying patterns.
"Yes, Helen. My love. So wonderful. So tight," he whispered reverently against her lips. With him hunched over her form, rocking into her with all his energy, he pressed his forehead against hers. Sweat dripped from both their foreheads, sliding down their cheeks and mixed onto exposed skin and the white cloth of the couch beneath them. He knew she was close, but he wanted her next orgasm to be as intense as the first, if not more. With a new goal in mind, John let go of the back of the couch. His long arms moving backwards to unlock Helen's legs from his back before weaving them underneath the bent angle of her knees, ultimately hooking them right over the crook of his elbows. Satisfied, he pushed his arms forward, effectively lifting her bum off his thighs.
Helen held her breath, giving her husband full control such as he was exerting now, would always end in surprise for her. She could feel him pulling out, purposefully stretching out the withdrawal for her pleasure and torture. When only the tip remained he thrust downwards and her mind went blank. Only a flood of white lights and pure blissful sensations filled her. He was able to drive deeper in this angle, his cock rubbing places that had her mindlessly calling his name over and over again. It was too much. With her head thrown back in pleasure, she came in a flood of liquid heat around that throbbing member buried deeply in her. "John!"
John held his body still as he felt his lover convulse around his aching erection. Her burst of vocal release nearly shattered his ear drum as she called out his name in her peak. With a final kiss to her mouth, swallowing the remaining of her screams, he thrust twice more before a shocking wave of pleasure ripped through him. He held himself inside of her, hips just locked, trapped in the moment as his cock spasmed and released thick coils of his cum to coat her womb and inner walls. She broke the kiss first, sucking in a needed long breath. He pressed his mouth to her forehead instead as he allowed his body to come down from its high.
Helen had no idea where she was, all she knew was that her body was still quaking, not with the aftershocks of an orgasm, no. She was still in the throes of it. For a moment she feared that it would never stop, the pleasure so intense. Slowly, however, after she felt John's small cry of triumph and release, the intense pleasure began to wane and finally settle into a light tingling between their still connected bodies.
"Mhmm, Helen," he murmured deliriously, his lips moving gently against her sweat slickened forehead. Her sated sigh of pleasure was the only response given along with the movement of her hands gliding over his smooth scalp. Nails grazed the fringe of where his hair would have ended had he any, causing a tingling sensation to race down his spine. With one final kiss, he shifted his weight, preparing to separate their bodies and gather the detriments of their recent coupling.
His felt his wife tense, her arms swiftly locking around his neck, preventing him from making any large movements, "don't. Not yet."
He knew how sensitive her body was after an orgasm. It would take her minutes to come down from a high and during a few instances, almost an hour. However, he could not complain. The most erotic sight that John had ever seen in his entire life was Helen at the peak of ecstasy just ready to fall over that edge. She was glorious and irresistible. The way that flush would consume her body, the elegant arch of her neck with her head thrown back, and her dark hair haphazardly surrounding her face like a halo; glorious, truly a glorious sight.
"I am far too heavy for you Helen," he interjected softly. Raising his body with his arms, John was able to look into his wife's blue eyes much better.
"I want to feel your body, John. All of it. Please, not yet," her eyes shifted into that tell-tale doe like shape, easily shattering his resistance.
With a chaste kiss to her lips he murmured his consent, "I will not separate us then. However, I plan on taking you to our bedroom," he only gave her a moment to prepare before wrapping his strong arms around her waist like a steel band and lifting her off the couch, "as erotic as this all was, I believe my wife is deserving of a soft bed to lie in."
Her airy laughter floated around the living room, "you are far too good to me."
"Never," he retorted seriously. In response, Helen kissed his temple as John maneuvered up the stairs and down the end of the hallway into the master bedroom. When he reached that king sized bed that dominated the center of the room at the opposite wall, he balanced Helen in a one-arm hold as he pulled down the thick maroon duvet. His intention was to lay her down gently, tuck her in and crawl onto his side of the bed before cuddling with her. She, on the other hand, had an entirely different plan. As her love bent over to deposit her onto the bed, she used her weight to tug him forward, forcing them both to fall onto the soft mattress.
"Helen!" His voice was laced with a soft tone meant to scold. She easily squelched his argument with a well placed kiss as her hips rotated beneath his. Her pace was purposefully slow. His own hips began to move as well, rotating in the opposite direction as his once soft cock began to harden. Their kiss was just as slow; mouths moving sensually, tongues languidly probing, hands traveling every exposed inch of the other's body. There was no rush this round, just simple enjoyment.
Without breaking the kiss, John's hands searched for Helen's. Fingers entwining as he dragged their connected hands towards her shoulders, locking them there. She pressed the heel of her feet against his bum and moaned her approval; he began to thrust into her in a deliciously slow pace. He eased in and out, taking every care to be gentle with her, knowing that her body had already been used rather roughly earlier.
John felt wonderful inside her body, so thick and heavy, and stretching her body to the point of delicious torment. The feel of that thick heaviness being pulled out slowly, only to be thrust back into her sheath with just as much gentle tenderness had her aching for more than physical release. She wanted to give herself completely to this man. Her body, her heart, and her very soul were all of his to take. And tonight, John took her. His tender gestures, their rocking hips, her small whimpers of passions as he drove her to the brink, and his whispers of love into her ear, all culminated to one powerful release that shook both of them.
Tangled in the sheets, room heavy with the scent of their lovemaking, both passed out wrapped in each other's arms. Twice more in the night, John had awoken her with soft strokes and kisses to her flesh. She gave into his passion.
Helen groggily awoke to the morning rays warming her face. John usually drew the curtains closed at night to prevent the sun from hitting his face, or so his excuse was. She had found, a few months after they had moved into this house, those days in which he forgot to draw the curtains closed at night due to their… energetic activities together, he would draw them when he awoke to his usual 5 AM alarm. She had always found it odd that his excuse was to stop the sun from 'bloody burning his eyes out' when he usually awoke before it arose. John had not been doing it for himself, but for her. So she could sleep without being disturbed by the morning or midday rays after a night spent painting.
Groaning she sheltered her eyes for a bit. It was one of the inconveniences of having full floor to ceiling windows as a wall that led onto the balcony. Turning over onto her stomach, she stretched her sore muscles. The aches and kinks pulled and strained before she relaxed into the soft and silken white Egyptian cotton sheets.
Blinking, the well sated woman turned her head away from the pillow to stare at the rumpled yet empty space next to her. A quick glance to the clock confirmed that it was a little past 8 already, her hand reached out to stroke the sheets and found them slightly warm. John must have just gotten up a few minutes ago. Given the time and the tell-tale body warmth just receding from the cooling sheets, he was most likely preparing for his shower.
A sigh of disappointment fell from her passion swollen lips. Last night was beyond any words that Helen could conjure. John was everything she remembered him being before the Ripper case. Passionate, attentive, inventive, amazing, incredible, insatiable, and God only knew what else. Perhaps there were not enough words in her extensive English vocabulary to describe last night. In fact, there were no words in several languages she knew fluently to describe everything that happened the night before. Unfortunately, morning had arrived and here she was – alone. It was a good start, considering how things had been 24 hours ago.
Still, Helen could not shake the feeling of hurt from her mind. She knew he was busy, and obviously after last night he wanted things to work out between them. But waking up alone hurt. With a sigh, she buried her head once more into the pillow and decided to just lie in bed. All day.
Her self-imposed depression was shattered when she heard the door open. Twisting around in the sheets, Helen faced the intruder and could not help that small gasp of surprise that escaped her.
There stood John, in nothing but black cotton draw sting pants, holding a tray that held a tea pot, two cups, milk, and two plates – one filled with lemon and the other with what looked like the almond wafers he had bought yesterday. A small smile flitted across his face as long strides brought him closer to the bed. He deposited the tray onto her night stand before planting a hand on either side of the pillow her head lay upon.
"Good morning, love," he whispered reverently before kissing her soundly. Her long slender arms wound around his neck, tugging him down until he toppled on top of her smaller frame. Laughing against his mouth, she finally ended the kiss and planted another small one on his nose for good measure.
"A very good morning indeed. And this is quite a surprise I might add, Mr. Druitt," she buried her face into his neck, feeling the bristling edges of his unshaven chin scratch along her cheek.
"So, it's Mr. Druitt now I see madam?"
"Mhmm," she confirmed with a mischievous twist of those delicate lips.
"I should turn you over my knee, dear."
"Oh, please do sir," she kissed him again, thoroughly plowing his mouth with her tongue before pulling back to nibble on his lower lip, "I most definitely need to be punished."
"Vixen," he growled before latching onto her lips and stifling any other comment she had on her sharp tongue. Helen lost herself in the sensation of his lips coercing hers to surrender fully. But she fought back; Helen Druitt never gave up without a fight, even when her husband did that with his tongue.
The sound of ringing filled the air, forcing the two lovers to break their concentration and stare at the offensive black cell phone on John's night stand. He ignored the interruption and proceeded to ravish his wife's neck, tugging the thin sheet down exposing her firm breasts to his hands. Helen tried to ignore the ringing and lose herself in the sensation of her husband suckling and massaging her breasts, but it was too distracting. With a shove, John found himself hovering above his wife with an incredulous expression on his face.
"Did I bite down to hard?" he questioned sincerely eyeing the teeth indentation he left upon her nipple.
"No. Your phone, John. Answer it," she waved dismissively at the still ringing object.
"It's most likely the office calling," he commented off handedly while he lowered his head once again to her breasts, "besides," his voice was muffled with his lips pressed against the side of her left breast, "they are not my main concern right now."
Helen could not help the smirk that curled about her lips. John was all hers for the morning, now that was a rare treat. Her body did not fully relax until the ringing stopped and she melted with pleasure when she felt that throbbing morning erection of his press into her soaking nude womanhood. Unfortunately, her euphoric haven was shattered when the shrill ringing filled the room once again.
John, it seemed, was very adept at drowning out background noise when he had a goal set. She, being the type who reveled in sound to stimulate her senses, was thoroughly distracted if not annoyed. Wrapping her legs around John's torso, she shifted her weight and managed to juxtapose their positions. She, being on top now straddling him as he lay beneath her, gave her the perfect opportunity to lean over him and grab his phone. In clear digital print, OFFICE flashed across the screen of his cell.
She nearly dropped the phone when she felt John's tongue tease her nipple, which was currently hovering perfectly over his mouth. The man certainly knew when to take an opportunity. She pulled up, much to his dismay, and handed him the phone.
"Answer it," a disgusted look passed over his face, "or they will be calling all day. And I will not have that."
Giving another pleading look, which did not budge her decision, John grudgingly answered the phone with a clipped, "Druitt."
He was not happy to be forced to speak with his boss when he was swollen and eager to make love to his very beautiful, very naked wife. With Helen atop him, the sheets had long ago fallen off her body, left him with quite a view. The morning light filtering through the window caressed the side of his wife's body, emphasizing her perfect breasts, flat toned stomach, curvaceous hips, long legs, slender neck, and perfectly angelic face. He heard the long monotonous drone of his superior and he almost groaned out loud.
Helen watched the facial expressions of the half nude male beneath her. She could not help but be amused at his discomfort. With a sudden thought, a feral grin carved itself onto her features. She leaned over and kissed his taut stomach, purposefully keeping her eyes locked with his as she slithered higher. The tips of her nipples brushed across his abs and she felt him flex the muscles.
"I apologize, sir. I just awoke," he commented into the phone, his eyes remaining fixed on his wife. She was planning something, "I seem to have come down with something." She arched her brow at his comment and nipped at one of his nipples. The groan that escaped his mouth was quickly stifled with false errant coughs, "Forgive me sir, I had a long hard night," he looked pointedly at her when he delivered that comment. With a twinkle in his eyes he stated, "and I awoke rather stiff this morning."
She guffawed at his statement. She noted his rather pleased look. Her eyes narrowed in response before she sat up once again and began to grind against his raging cock. She watched, pleased, when his eyes closed in pleasure and he bucked his hips upwards before undulating himself, increasing the friction.
"Of course, sir. Thank you very much. I most definitely will," he ended the call and tossed the cell phone away; hands instantly wrapping around her slim waist, encouraging her to rock faster. "I had plans to see if that woman in the bakery was correct in her assessment of those wafers being a good pair with tea. However, you have given me a far better idea in how we should spend this morning together, darling."
A very unlady like squeal echoed in the bedroom before a very exuberant, "John!" was hollered.
A/N: Well that was kind of laying in my mind for a bit and with such good writers for this couple filling me with inspiration I just HAD to give it a tray. It's not that great to me, but hey. I hope you guys enjoy it.
Also, I am open to opinions and suggestions for a continuation piece to this, maybe even expand on this timeline/alternate universe. Perhaps introduce other characters into this makeshift world and alternate reality? What do you guys think? Is it worth the try, or should I hang up my writing coat and sleep?
Also, Mary Anne's is a real bakery in my neighborhood and their almond wafers are out of this world! Nom, nom, nom, good!
Reviews = Love
-two finger salute-