Avenoir

Avenoir - John

John

"Come here," I pull her with me, back to the couch where I finish unbuttoning my shirt. I pull it off, flinging it over the armchair Marlena usually sits on when she is conducting sessions. But even as I do it, my eyes never leave her for a second. Despite her reassurances, I am still anxious and I fear that if I turn away, if something happens to interrupt this, she will fade away and I will find out that this was never real. That my poor, confused, lovesick head was making all of this up, once again.

She looks fucking incredible. Satin and lace panties in a virginal white, offsetting skin which is pale but with a lingering hint of gold from summer. The freckles scattered across her shoulders and her décolleté bring back a thousand memories. Really fucking wonderful ones. Dancing with her at Blondies, my lady in red. Lying in bed, kissing them in a hotel room in Stockholm. Pulling that pink satin robe off her shoulders and pushing her across the table so that I could spank that fine little ass of hers and fuck her quickly before the kids woke up and I had to get off to work.

If those freckles could talk, oh man, the stories they would tell.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks me, and I realize I am smiling.

"I was thinking about when we were married," I tell her, coming close to her. She threads her fingers through the hair on my chest and I have to stop and swallow heavily.

"What about it?" she asks, her eyes green like the canopy of a summer forest, light glittering through in flecks of sparkling gold.

"Sometimes you used to get up early," I tell her. "I wouldn't get my good morning kiss... or anything else." The corner of my mouth curls up as I smooth my hand over her freckled shoulder and down her back until it comes to rest on her rounded ass. "Do you remember what I would do to you?" I squeeze her gently and then slap her lightly and she gasps, her eyes widening.

"Oh." The pink flush on her cheeks deepens and she bites her lower lip, looking up at me from under heavy-lidded eyes with an expression that is both innocent and as sexy as fuck. She knows that look gets my motor revving. She knows that look used to get her into all kinds of trouble. "I remember."

If I am honest, it is the first time in years I have really allowed myself to remember that time in any kind of detail. Remembering those glorious short months that we had together, when we made love all over the house and all over Salem, (where we could get away with it), has always been too much like torture to be pleasurable. Knowing that she was back in my life, in our lives, was heavenly. Knowing that I couldn't touch her, couldn't hold her, and make love to her because she wasn't mine, was hell. All the more difficult to bear because it was my own fault. Because I had pushed her away when she first returned home.

"Oh baby," I pull her close to me, kissing her again as she curls her fingers against my chest, pulling on the dark hairs, the feeling sending spikes of pleasure through me, collecting at the base of my twitching cock. My cock, which is aching with the anticipation of being buried inside her after all these years. "My God, I have missed you so much."

"Mmmmphhh," I smother her reply with my mouth, my tongue exploring the recesses of that dark, wet space, digging and searching for, I don't know what. Just more of her. The taste of her and the noises she makes. The way she squirms in my arms as I explore her body with my mouth and hands.

Her hands slide up my chest and over my shoulders and loop around my neck and then I feel her calf against my thigh and with a single movement, I pick her up and she wraps her thighs around my hips, grinding herself against the bulge of my eager penis. She is as light as a feather in my arms as I carry her to her desk, and with a sweep of my arm, I send her blotter, pens, and the pictures of the children flying. I half expect her to react with exasperation, but she is too caught up in the moment to notice, or care if she does.