Chapter 12: Reclamation
The muffled squawk from the phone on the countertop was drowned out by the sharp, rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh. Ethan drove into her ass with deep, powerful strokes, each one jolting Vivian forward against the cool stone counter, the edge digging into her hip bones. Her grip on the counter’s edge was white-knuckled, her knuckles sharp islands in the flushed skin of her hands. Sweat beaded along her hairline, trickling down her temple, mingling with the scent of burnt pancake and coffee that hung thick in the air.
"Oh, for God's sake, Richard!" Vivian gasped into the void near the phone, forcing her voice into a semblance of annoyed exasperation, though it was frayed at the edges, breathless. She pushed back against Ethan’s thrusts, meeting his force, her body arching. "You're… breaking up! Or… or I am. Can barely hear you over the… the damn dishwasher." She angled her head, her cheek pressing against the cool stone, her eyes meeting Ethan’s intense gaze. He grinned, sweat beading on his own brow, his rhythm unwavering. Deep. Relentless. Owning the tight, clenching heat.
The phone speaker vibrated with Richard’s tinny, amplified frustration. "Dishwasher? At this hour? Vivian, what the hell is that banging? Are you renovating? It sounds like… like someone’s knocking down a wall!"
Ethan chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that Vivian felt vibrate through her own frame. He slowed his pace slightly, pulling almost entirely out, letting her feel the agonizing, empty stretch before slamming back in with devastating force. Vivian cried out, a sharp sound she quickly choked into a cough, pressing her forehead hard against her arm.
"Renovating… cough… yes!" she managed, her voice strained. "New… shelf unit. Awkward fit. Heavy." She closed her eyes, focusing on the exquisite, burning stretch, the overwhelming fullness that radiated through her pelvis. Ethan’s fingers dug into the ample flesh of her hips, guiding her, pulling her back onto him with each deep stroke. The thud-thud-thud of their connection, the wetter, slicker sound emanating from where their bodies joined, seemed impossibly loud in the confined space. "Richard, this isn’t productive," she continued, her voice gaining a shaky firmness. "Thursday. Henderson’s office. Or I will file that motion. Your… choice." She punctuated the last word by slamming her hips back hard against Ethan, drawing a guttural groan from him that vibrated through her bones.
"Fine! Fine!" Richard spat, the word distorted. "But this racket is ridiculous! Sounds like a bloody demolition derby! Are you sure you’re alone? It sounds…"
Vivian reached out a trembling hand, fumbling for the phone without looking. Her fingers found the cool plastic, and she slid it closer, angling the speaker slightly away. "Of course I'm alone, Richard," she lied, her voice regaining a sliver of its usual polished control, though it trembled minutely. "Just… clumsy. Dropping tools." She felt Ethan’s hand slide from her hip, down the curve of her thigh, his fingers finding the slick heat between her legs. He rubbed hard circles over her clit as he continued to piston into her ass, the dual assault making her vision blur. She bucked, a helpless moan escaping before she could stifle it. "Gah! Damn… splinter!" she gasped into the phone, her knuckles white again.
"Splinter? Demolition? Vivian, you sound completely unhinged!" Richard shrilled, suspicion thick in his voice now. "I’m coming over."
"No!" The word ripped out of Vivian, sharper than intended. Panic warred with the molten pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in her core. Ethan’s fingers worked faster, his thrusts deeper, sensing her impending peak. "Absolutely not, Richard! I have… ah!… a graduate student coming for a consult… shortly. You are not welcome here. Ever. Again." The finality in her voice was steel. The coil snapped. An orgasm tore through her, violent and consuming, clamping down hard around Ethan’s invading thickness as her body bowed and shuddered against the counter. She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, muffling the cry that threatened to shatter the illusion, her body convulsing in silent ecstasy. "Umph!... Box… dropped it… heavy box…" she managed to gasp into the phone, her chest heaving.
Ethan slowed his thrusts, riding out the powerful spasms clutching him. He leaned over her, his breath hot on her sweat-slicked back. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise vibrating against her skin. "So good for me." He kissed the nape of her neck, sending fresh shivers through her.
"This is absurd, Vivian!" Richard’s voice was a furious buzz. "I don’t believe a word you’re saying! That banging… those noises…"
Ethan pulled out slowly, the withdrawal an intense, burning slide that left Vivian feeling cavernously empty. She sagged against the counter, trembling, her legs barely holding her. Ethan turned her gently. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown, lips parted as she dragged in ragged breaths. The chemise was rucked up around her waist, her chest flushed and heaving. Ethan’s gaze was molten, admiring, possessive. He cupped her cheek. "Keep talking. He loves hearing you." He guided her slowly down to her knees on the cool tile floor.
Vivian looked up at him, understanding dawning, a spark of defiance – and arousal – reigniting in her blue eyes despite the aftershocks still trembling through her. She took the phone properly in her hand now, bringing it closer to her face as she settled on her knees before Ethan’s hard, glistening cock. It stood thick and heavy, flushed a deep red, slick with her arousal and the evidence of where he’d been. The smell of sex, salt, and exertion filled her nostrils.
"Richard," she said, her voice miraculously smoothing into a semblance of weary professionalism, though it held an underlying huskiness she couldn't completely erase. "Your paranoia is tedious. I have a life, messy as it is right now, that doesn't involve you. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is Henderson’s office on Thursday." She leaned forward, her lips parting. Her tongue flicked out, tasting him, tracing the broad, veined head. Salty. Musky. Intimately familiar. She took him into her mouth slowly, her tongue swirling around the sensitive ridge.
"Tedious? PARANOIA?" Richard’s voice was dangerously high. "I hear banging, gasping, and God knows what else! You sound… breathless!"
Vivian hollowed her cheeks, sucking firmly as she took more of him in, sliding down his impressive length, feeling the thick shaft stretch her lips wide. She made a soft, deliberate sound deep in her throat – a muffled moan of appreciation that vibrated around him. "Mmphh…" she managed around his girth, pulling back slowly, then sinking down again. Her free hand came up, cupping his heavy balls, rolling them gently. "Just… slurp… catching my breath, Richard," she said, pulling off with a slick pop, her voice slightly thick. "After moving… ah… that shelf unit. Very… strenuous." She looked up at Ethan, her eyes meeting his, a silent challenge and promise in them. She darted her tongue out again, licking a long stripe from base to tip.
"Strenuous? It sounds… obscene!" Richard spluttered. "Are you… are you eating something? What is that wet noise?"
Vivian smiled around the head of Ethan’s cock, her tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive slit. She took him deep again, relaxing her throat, feeling him nudge the back. She gagged slightly, the reflex making her eyes water, but she pushed through, bobbing her head with increasing rhythm. The sounds were unmistakable now: wet slurps, rhythmic sucking, the soft grunts Ethan couldn't quite suppress as he watched her, his hand tangling gently in her blonde hair. "Schlurp… uh… Sorry, Richard," she managed, pulling back, a thin strand of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening tip. "Just… cough… eating an apple. Very juicy one. Dropped it earlier." She dove back down, taking him deep, her nose pressing into the coarse hair at his base. She worked him with her mouth and hand, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing, the sounds slick, messy, and loud. Her other hand, holding the phone, trembled slightly, but her focus was entirely on Ethan, on the feel of him, the taste, the primal satisfaction of serving him like this, of being used for his pleasure while her ex-husband raged impotently on the line.
"An apple? It sounds like… like… Vivian, I know what that sounds like!" Richard’s voice cracked with a mixture of fury and dawning, horrified suspicion. "What are you DOING?"
Vivian pulled off again, gasping for air, saliva glistening on her chin. She looked up at Ethan, his face taut with pleasure, his eyes dark and possessive. She gave his cock a few firm strokes, her thumb rubbing the swollen head. "What I’m doing, Richard," she said, her voice low, husky, and filled with a fierce, almost vicious pride that she made no attempt to hide, "is moving on. With my very strenuous renovations. Alone." She emphasized the word ‘alone’, but her gaze locked with Ethan’s spoke volumes of the opposite. "Now, unless you have anything pertinent to the actual division of assets… schhhllp…" She took him back into her mouth, deep and slow, her throat working around him, her eyes never leaving her son's. "... I suggest you hang up… mmmpph… and wait for Henderson’s email. Like a civilized human being." She began to suck him in earnest, bobbing her head faster, her hand stroking the base, the wet, rhythmic sounds obscenely loud in the kitchen, drowning out Richard’s sputtering fury.
"VIVIAN! YOU… YOU WHORE! I KNOW YOU’RE NOT ALONE! THAT SOUND IS—"