Chapter 3: Morning's Erotic Awakening
Dan’s hands fisted in the sheets, his hips lifting off the mattress as the peak crashed through him. Amy took him deep, swallowing around his pulsing cock until he was spent and shuddering. She released him with a soft, wet sound, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before resting her cheek on his thigh. The morning sun warmed her bare shoulders.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice husky.
“Christ,” he breathed, the word dissolving into a laugh. “You’re going to kill me.”
“What a way to go.” She crawled up his body, her heavy breasts dragging across his skin, and settled against his side. The scent of her, sleep-warm and familiar, filled his senses. “You were grinding your teeth in your sleep again. Thought you needed a better wake-up call.”
“Diagnosis and treatment. Efficient.” He turned his head, nuzzling into her hair. “Thank you.”
They lay in quiet for a moment, the only sound the distant call of a robin in the backyard. Dan traced idle patterns on the smooth skin of her back, down to the dip of her waist. His body was lax, but a familiar current was already stirring again, slow and deep. It always did, around her.
“What’s on the docket today?” he asked.
“Laundry. Maybe start that new Daphne du Maurier. The grocery store after three, when the bread’s marked down.” She propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at him. Her nipple, a dark pink against her pale skin, brushed his chest. “You’re buried in that backend overhaul.”
“Yeah. It’s a fucking knot. Feels like I’m coding in quicksand.”
“Then you need a proper break.” Her hand slid down his stomach, fingers trailing through coarse hair before wrapping around him again. He was already half-hard. “No more thinking about code.”
She kissed him, deep and slow, her tongue exploring his mouth. He could taste himself, a faint salty tang, and it sent a fresh jolt of desire straight to his core. He rolled her onto her back, the old bed frame groaning softly under their weight. The sunflower sundress from last night was a puddle on the floor; she wore only a pair of simple cotton panties. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down her legs, tossing them aside.
The sunlight fell across her body like gold leaf, highlighting the curve of her hip, the soft swell of her stomach, the incredible, breath-taking weight of her breasts as they settled against her ribs. He looked at her, really looked, as he did every time—this woman, her kindness, her fire, all laid bare for him.
“My god, Amy,” he said, the words choked.
She reached for him, pulling him down. “No thinking. Just feel.”
He kissed her neck, her collarbone, then took a nipple into his mouth. He laved it with his tongue, sucked deeply, his hand cradling the immense, soft weight of her breast. She arched beneath him, a sharp gasp catching in her throat. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Yes. Like that. Harder.”
He complied, alternating between breasts, worshipping them with his mouth and hands until her breaths were short, frantic pants. He moved lower, his tongue tracing a path down her sternum, over the quivering plane of her abdomen. He parted her thighs, the scent of her arousal, musky and sweet, filling the air.
He didn’t tease. He buried his face in her, his tongue finding her clit in a firm, slow circle.
Amy cried out, her hand flying to his hair, not to guide but to clutch. “Oh, fuck, Dan. Right there.”
He feasted on her. He licked and sucked, drinking her in, his own need building into a sharp, demanding ache. Her thighs trembled against his ears. Her pleas became a fragmented, filthy mantra. “Don’t stop, please, I’m so close, just like that, you fucking beautiful man, lick my cunt, yes—”
Her orgasm hit with a sudden, violent tension. Her back bowed off the bed, a raw, guttural scream tearing from her throat as she ground herself against his mouth. He rode it out with her, gentling his touch until the last tremors subsided.
Before she could even catch her breath, she was pushing at his shoulders. “Inside me. Now. I need to feel you.”
He rose over her, his cock, fully hard and thick, nudging at her entrance. He pushed in with one long, slow stroke, sheathing himself completely in her wet, gripping heat. They both groaned, a unison sound of perfect, agonizing relief.
He set a punishing pace from the start, each thrust driving the breath from her lungs. The headboard began a rhythmic tap-tap-tap against the wall. Amy wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back, taking him deeper.
“Is this what you need?” he grunted, his control fraying. “This what you woke up for?”
“Yes! Fuck me! Harder!” Her head thrashed on the pillow. She reached between them, her fingers frantically working her clit. “Gonna come again. Make me come on your cock.”
The slap of skin on skin, their ragged breathing, the creak of the bed—it was a brutal, beautiful music. Dan watched her face, etched in ecstasy, and felt a possessiveness so fierce it bordered on violence. He pistoned into her, his balls slapping against her ass. The pressure coiled, unbearable.
“Amy,” he warned.
“Come in me,” she demanded, her eyes flashing open, locking on his. “Fill me up. Do it.”
Her command shattered the last of his restraint. With a roar that was more groan than voice, he plunged deep and stayed there, his hips jerking as he emptied himself in hot, pulsing jets. Below him, Amy screamed, her inner muscles clamping around him in a series of relentless, fluttering spasms that milked him dry.
He collapsed, careful to keep his weight on his forearms, his forehead damp against her shoulder. Their hearts hammered against each other, a frantic, slowing drumbeat.
Minutes passed. The sun had climbed higher, painting a bright rectangle on the opposite wall.
“The lasagna was great last night,” he mumbled into her skin.
She laughed, a breathy, sated sound. “You’re such a romantic.”
“I’m a realist. You’re an amazing cook and a sexual tyrannosaur. I’m a lucky man.”
She swatted his backside gently. “Go shower. You smell like sex and my ambition to be a good housewife is itching to change these sheets.”
He rolled off with a sigh, his body feeling blissfully wrecked. As he stood, he looked back at her, splayed across their rumpled bed, golden and utterly content. The backend overhaul still waited in his office, a digital knot of problems.
But here, in this sunlit room, everything was perfectly, explicitly simple.