I’d been asleep for at least a couple hours when the feel of the mattress dipping behind me drew me from the darkness. A moment later, I could smell the subtle scent of our shampoo, mingling with his slightly spicier body-wash. I opened my eyes, but didn’t roll over. The room was still dark, but the red numbers on the clock glowed. One thirty-two in the morning.

“Baby, you awake?” His voice was a whisper, but clear enough that I could tell he wasn’t drunk. If he’d been sampling some of our vineyard’s vintage wine, he hadn’t over indulged.

Not drunk, but definitely horny. I could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he moved closer to me. A moment later, a hand slid over my hip and down my thigh.

“Shae, babe, you awake?”

The hand started to pull up the pale pink silk nightie I’d put on after my shower. I made a non-committal sound as his fingers moved over bare skin. Across my waist and up to cup my full breast.

“It’s late, Allen,” I murmured.

“I know, sweetie.” He pressed his lips against the hollow spot under my ear. “But I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

I wanted to ask him why, if he’d been thinking about me, hadn’t he just come home when he’d known I’d be awake. His office for the vineyard was only a few hundred yards from the main house. He could’ve come up to see me when I’d gotten home from school, or for dinner.

Instead, I’d eaten alone.

Again.

I didn’t say anything though. I was too tired for an argument, or even a discussion. I couldn’t remember the last time I wasn’t mentally and physically drained.

His fingers rolled my nipple even as he pressed up behind me and I suddenly realized that he was naked. His cock was hot and hard against my ass, burning through the silk. I moaned as he began to kiss his way down my neck. I was tired, but my body wanted him. We’d been married for a little less than a year, but we’d been lovers for eight years, and he knew exactly how to arouse me.

“It’s been too long.” His breath was hot against my skin.

I agreed. With school ending and work at the vineyard picking up, we’d barely seen each other all week, never-mind having the time to make love. My head fell back against his shoulder as he moved my nightgown higher. His hand dropped from my breast and moved down my stomach to the juncture between my legs. His fingers skimmed the thin layer of golden curls he found there, then delved between my folds. With practiced accuracy, he found my clit and began to move his fingers in a quick back and forth movement, sending shivers of pleasure through me. His hips rocked against me, rubbing his cock against my ass.

“Please, Shae,” he murmured as his fingers steadily coaxed the dying embers inside me to a flame.

I rolled onto my back, reaching up to wrap my fingers around the back of his neck. In the dark, I couldn’t see him, but I didn’t need to. I knew every inch of my husband. The sparkling hazel eyes, the tousled tawny hair that never seemed to stay in place. His strong jaw and the nose that was just a tad too long to be perfect. His long, lean body, strong fingers.

I pulled him down to me, his mouth easily finding mine. His tongue traced my lips before slipping inside. I ran my free hand down his chest, lightly scratching his nipple with my nails before wrapping my hand around his cock. He groaned as I gripped the base of him tight.

Damn. He hadn’t been kidding, I thought as I stroked the full length of him. He was practically throbbing in my hand. He had to have come straight out of the shower with a hard-on. He’d never been one of those men who acted like he needed to have sex every day, but despite how long we’d been together, we had a healthy sex life.

His fingers slid inside me, carefully stretching me even as his thumb kept up the steady friction on my clit. His free hand bunched my nightgown even more until his mouth found my breast. I could feel myself getting wetter as his lips fastened around my nipple.

“Allen,” I breathed, my back arching.

The hot suction made a straight line from my breast to the place where his fingers were keeping up a steady rhythm. I reached out towards my bedside table, fingers fumbling for the drawer. Even as one half of my brain registered the heat building in my belly, the other half was rummaging for a condom. My fingers brushed against the cool plastic of my vibrator before finding what I was looking for.

His fingers slid out of me and plucked the little packet from my hand. A moment later, I heard the wrapper tear. I shifted towards him as he raised his head from my breast. I couldn’t see him, but I knew his body well enough to easily adjust myself so that I was right where I needed to be when he moved on top of me.

He groaned as he eased inside, rocking his hips to make sure I was ready. I slid my hands down his broad, muscular back and gripped his ass, pulling him towards me. I caught my breath as he surged forward, filling me. I flexed my fingers, encouraging him to move. His lips found mine as he began to thrust. His first few strokes were slow, as they always were, giving my body the time to adjust. He’d been my first lover, my only lover, and he’d been a wonderful instructor. He knew my body almost better than I did, knowing just exactly where to touch to turn me on, to drive me towards climax.

My tongue twisted with his, drawing it into my mouth. I sucked on it and felt his body tense for a moment before he picked up the pace. I shivered as he drove in deep, sparking pleasure all across my nerves. His lips moved from my mouth to trail down my jaw, my neck. They were soft, open-mouthed kisses that sent heat slithering across my skin.

“I’ve been dreaming about this,” he moaned into my ear. “Being buried in your sweet, hot pussy.”

My hips rose to meet his, my body instinctively knowing exactly how to move. Our bodies danced together, a dance we knew well and enjoyed. I could feel my orgasm approaching, the tightening in my belly. Even as I approached my release, I felt his hips stutter and knew he was close.

As he knew my body, I knew his. If I’d had him in my mouth or hand, I would’ve felt his cock twitch, his balls heavy.

“Come on, baby,” I murmured, raking my nails lightly up his back. Never hard enough to hurt, just enough to feel. “Come for me.”

“You first,” he said, his voice harsh, rasping. “Touch yourself, babe. I don’t think I’m going to last much longer.”

I slid my hand between us with a skill that came from years of practice. It didn’t take much, just a few quick strokes even as he jerked his hips against me. He came with a rough grunting sound and I followed a moment later with my own soft sigh.

He slumped onto me, his weight familiar and solid. The feel of home. I pushed his still wet hair back from his forehead and kissed his temple. It didn’t matter that sometimes the sex was predictable, or that he sometimes spent too much time at the vineyard. He was mine and I was his. I loved him.

“I’ve missed that.” His breath was hot on my neck. He moved, sliding out of me even as he kissed my shoulder. He rolled onto his back, still breathing heavily as he pulled off the condom and tossed it into the bedside trashcan.

“Me too.” I smiled even though it was too dark for him to see me.

We lay there together for several minutes, not speaking, not touching, just being. Finally, I climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom for some clean up. When I came back out a few minutes later, I let the light from the bathroom stay on a bit longer. It shone right across the bed, revealing the face of the man I’d loved almost from the first moment I’d seen him.

I could still remember it, the first time I’d met the man I eventually married. I’d been born and raised in a small Utah town, so coming to UCLA had been a bit of a culture shock for me. I’d still been adjusting to my new life, even after two weeks, and I’d managed to get myself lost.

Again.

I’d been standing on the sidewalk, overly conscious of the precious minutes before my next class ticking by. I’d been trying not to cry when I’d heard a gentle voice asking if I was okay. When I’d looked up, I’d found myself staring at the kindest face I’d ever seen and everything had come crashing in on me. My mother’s recent cancer diagnosis, being away from home for the first time, struggling to pay my tuition and keep up with classes that were promising to be difficult…all of that and the fact that I was probably going to be late to my Introduction to British Literature class had been too much.

I’d started to cry and, instead of bolting – or trying to take advantage – like most men would’ve done when confronted with a sobbing co-ed, he’d taken my elbow, led me over to a bench and sat down beside me while I spilled out everything that was wrong.

I hadn’t made it to class that day, but Allen had known the professor and I hadn’t gotten into trouble. It had been nearly half the semester before he’d asked me out on an official date, but he’d looked out for me from the moment we’d first met. He’d shown me around the campus, giving me hints of shortcuts and quizzing me until I’d known where everything was.

When his graduation had drawn closer, I’d been scared that he would be heading back to Texas where his family was in the oil business. Instead, he’d rented an apartment just off campus, making plans to go into business for himself. When, a few months later, he’d inherited the vineyard in St. Helena, he’d given me the apartment. Despite the distance between the vineyard and UCLA, he’d come down to see me every other weekend.

It was funny, I thought as I turned off the bathroom light and waited for my eyes to adjust. Funny how long eight years sounded, but how short it had seemed. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the same golden hair – though with a different haircut – and the same cobalt blue eyes. I’d always been curvy, but the years between eighteen and twenty-six hadn’t put much weight on me. Allen was almost thirty and had a bit of his decade weight, but walking the vineyard had kept him lean.

While I’d been in the bathroom, Allen had crawled under the covers and had them rolled around him like a cocoon. I sighed as I climbed into bed and grabbed the edge of the sheet and blanket. I gave them a sharp tug and rolled my eyes when Allen snorted in his sleep. I pulled harder and he rolled towards me, releasing enough of the covers for me to get underneath.

The bed creaked slightly as I settled into my usual position on my side. I felt Allen bump against me as he moved closer. His hand curled over my hip and he sighed, dropping into a deeper sleep. The sound of his steady breathing and the after-effects of our love-making lulled me into my own slumber.

I was safe and I was loved. As long as Allen was at my side, I could sleep.

 

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