The sound of keys jiggling in the lock made him grin. He still got just as fucking excited when he heard that sound. It meant Drea was home and it was just the two of them. They’d known each other for more than five years and had celebrated their third wedding anniversary in September. But nothing had killed the way he felt about the firecracker who’d brought him to his knees.
“Hey, Babe. I’m home,” she shouted from the hall. “Sorry I’m late. Jefferson wanted to review that municipal government article I was working on before I left, and the traffic on the 95 was heinous. What time is everyone coming over?” He heard the sound of her keys hitting the dish on the side table and the thunk of the heels that she always kicked off as soon as she got home.
He grinned as she turned the corner from the hallway, a pencil sticking out of her messy bun. Her cheeks were flushed from the cool evening air, and she wore a skirt and a pretty blouse that matched her eyes. “Have I ever told you you’re fucking gorgeous?” he said, as he stood and walked toward her.
“Hardly. I smell,” Drea said, sniffing one armpit. “Yeah, I definitely smell. Stress sweats.”
Cujo laughed. “Yeah, but you are still gorgeous.” He placed his hands on her cheeks and drew her lips to his. She placed her hands on his and kissed him back. What started as gentle and chaste ignited into something simmering on the verge of him ripping her clothes off and taking her on the kitchen island.
She was gasoline to his lit match. Just being around her was enough to set him aflame, especially when those full breasts of hers pressed up against his chest. He debated dragging her to their room, but then he remembered the bubble bath and forced himself to press one last kiss to her lips, plus one on the tip of her nose for good measure, because he loved the way her nose would crumple up.
“I ran the bath so you could unwind before we need to start all the food prep for tonight,” he said. Her wide smile made him melt like a popsicle in a Miami summer.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I totally scored when I married you.”
“I’m even going to let you go bathe alone, despite wanting to strip us both naked.”
Drea began to open the button of her blouse, giving him a peek at her lace bra. “See, such a good man.” Her grin told him she knew exactly what she was doing as she turned and walked away. The blouse slid down her arms, revealing the rose tattoo she’d let him do one Valentine’s day. It was the only time she’d let him go near her with his needles, but damn, the thought of her lying on his bed at the studio made him hard all over again.
Wine. He should take her a glass of wine or something. And it would give him something to do with his hands.
As he poured them both a glass of cabernet, he heard the creak of the floorboards in the bathroom of their home.
“Brody?” His name fluttered down the stairs. “I can’t reach my back.”
Goddamn.
He left the wine and the glasses on the counter and jogged up the stairs, knocking on the door before letting himself in. The large tub had been installed to specifically allow the two of them to be in it at the same time. Drea was sitting in the bath, knees drawn up to her chest, bubbles all around her. “There is a spot back there I can’t reach,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.
Cujo grabbed a clean facecloth from the shelf. “Well, we can’t have that,” he said. “Allow me to help.” He crouched down next to the bath and dipped the cloth into the warm water. Water poured from it as he lifted it out of the water before he pressed it against her shoulder blade. Wisps of hair that had not made it into her bun became wet, sticking to her neck, the long neck he loved to kiss and nip when they were being playful. He slid the cloth down her spine, watching as her muscles flexed beneath his touch, as she shifted in her seat.
The house was silent except for the occasional murmur of approval from Drea. He loved the way she made those little sounds, especially when he eased inside her.
He repeated the action, slowly but surely easing the cloth over her entire back, taking liberties to dip beneath the water level to the delicious cheeks of her ass.
“Good?” he asked.
“Mmm. Perfect,” she sighed.
“Anywhere else you can’t reach?” He let the water sluice over her shoulders.
Drea leaned back, revealing her breasts to him with their dusky nipples ready for his attention. Her eyes were closed. “Anywhere else you want to wash?” Her voice was filled with longing, and far be it for him to be anything other than an obliging gentleman.
He bit his lip as he dipped the cloth back in the water, starting at her neck and trailing it between the valley of her breasts. Her breath came faster, her chest rising and falling.
His dick was harder than the granite of the bathroom counter, and the constriction of his denim was not helpful, but he was in no hurry. Water sluiced over her breast as he dragged the cloth over it, making sure to catch her nipple with his thumb.
Drea shuddered. “You are being very thorough,” she said. “I like that.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, but it was the way she bit her lip that had him fighting the urge to just drop the cloth and dive in there with her.
“If a job’s worth doing and all that,” he said gruffly. He dragged the cloth gently between her legs, pressing two fingers covered in the thin cloth against her clit, circling it the way she loved, the way she’d told him was her favorite way to get off.
Drea grabbed his wrist, holding him in place as she bucked once against him. “Brody,” she whispered. She was one of the few people who called him by his real name, and he loved the sound of it as it fell from her lips.
“Yeah, Shortcake?”
He let the cloth sink to the bottom of the tub, and as he looked into her eyes, eyes he’d found his own salvation in, he pressed a finger into her welcoming warmth.
Drea’s mouth opened in a silent gasp as she opened her legs wider, letting them fall apart to grant him better access. The bubbles covered his view, but he knew everything about her. The way her short dark curls would look wet, how pink her lips would be, how his finger looked coated in her excitement.
“Fuck, I love the way you feel around my fingers, Babe.” He increased the pace as Drea’s hips moved against him.
“Just like that. Just there,” she cried, moving against his hand. “It feels so good.”
He could feel the urgency, could see the need, and goddamn, he hovered on the verge of his own orgasm. He pressed his other palm against his dick, moving against it as he watched his wife seek what she wanted.
And he was right there with her when her back arched, when her head pressed against the end of the tub, as the moan that accompanied her orgasm ripped through the heavy air of the bathroom.
“Brody,” she cried, gasping for air, letting go of his wrist.
He watched as her chest settled, her breathing evening out, before he slid his finger out of her. He moved to the top of the bath and pressed his lips to hers. Perhaps it was because he was a kinky fuck, but the way their kiss was punctuated by short gasps for air cranked him higher.
“You going to get in here and take what’s yours?” she murmured against his lips.
“If that’s an invitation, you’d better believe it, but let me grab a condom.”