Convalescence

Off The Table

Ruth is ticklish.

The nerves jump and spark in that (frankly, lovely) curve where torso slides into rib - a slow drag of his fingers reveals that, leaves her giggling, squirming against the door. She stills when he teases her, fingertips grazing the strip of bare skin between her tank top and the waistband of her tiny pajama shorts, matching the low timbre of his voice vibrating against her.

"I've been thinkin' 'bout you in these tiny little shorts since you sent me that photo asking if I liked them," his teeth sink into her silky skin and his fingers rub circles on the rounded prominence of her hip-bones. "I was in a senate hearing, Ruth Kaitlyn."

Well, he might be in DC to help other mayors appeal something before the senate but she is definitely not. Ruth is here purely for her husband and she has zero regrets about coming. Senate hearings have meant long, boring days and he more often than not came in mentally drained and needing relief from the monotony and that meant sex was rarely off the table. Actually - that meant sex was on the table, quite literally. That poor table barely held up to the enthusiasm of Ruth as Bo's mouth worked her over.

"That table won't support your enthusiasm, again, baby," it's almost as if he can read her thoughts, until she realizes that she's been eyeing it and sucking on her bottom lip. "The legs were shaking the other day."

Ruth offers her husband a wry grin at that. "I was a little shaky myself." Boaz just smiles and tugs at the waistband of her shorts until the cartoon print pajama shorts puddle around her feet, leaving her in a tiny tank top and a pair of panties that barely cover anything. She's lost to him, already, breathless and whimpering, hands scrambling for purchase on the wall when her husband sinks to his knees.

"I think I like you like this," he finally growls, pressing a kiss just below her belly button. The kisses drag, teeth and tongue and she whines, high and loud, at the torturous nature of his foreplay. Her tank top is bunched beneath her breasts when he gets back on his feet and dips his head to capture a nipple in his mouth. The cotton tank top is just thin enough, she can feel him suck on it, she can feel it harden in his mouth, straining against the fabric. Another whine and he's grinning around the hard flesh; "I definitely like you like this."

Ruth grumbles something that sounds like a vague order for him to get on with it. He only listens for the few seconds to takes him to lavish the other breast with the same attention. It is only when both nipples strain through wet cotton that he sinks to his knees, again, gently spreading her thighs with his hands.

Bo takes a few minutes to lap at her through the thin lace of her panties, nudging and mouthing at her until the creamy thighs on either side of his head tremble. A tip of his head and he's tenderly kissing the quivering muscle until the tension releases and she's calm again. "Easy, baby."

Ruth whimpers.

Not one to ignore such a blatant hint, he hooks his thumb into her panties and gives them a sharp tug until they're straining around her knees, the sound of slowly tearing fabric barely heard for her loud moan when he swipes his fingers through her soft folds, all wet heat and silky skin, mouth watering in anticipation at the slick arousal that coats his fingertips. "You're soaked, baby."

"I've been waiting for you, all day," Ruth groans her explanation, staring down at her husband with wet, heavy eyes, blurring the silver at his temples. Her head falls back against the wall when his tongue presses firmly against the throbbing ache of her clit. "That feels so good, Bo."

Boaz laughs against her, shifting up to lap at her dripping heat. A series of breathless whines escape her when he licks hard, relentless circles, and hot stripes along her entrance before his tongue is wedged firmly inside of her. A slow, steady rhythm has her rocking her hips against his mouth, almost desperately, searching for more friction.