Desire Renewed (Happily Bedded Bliss) Read online

“Then why did you bring it up?”

  Because it never leaves my mind, not even for a second. But now I wish I hadn’t. “Trevor I need to get through these files before they get back and I have to move them. Just go watch TV.”

  You can do this. You can do this. No I can’t. My stomach clenched nervously as I made my way back to the table. Could I really?

  I slid into the booth next to Craig. “What are you doing?” He killed what little confidence I had with that annoyed look of his.

  Still, I was going to do this. Even though the first twenty-five fantasies in the book had only marginal success. I was determined. I would save my marriage, no matter what. Even reach into my bra and pull out the panties I’d just removed in the ladies room. I handed the scrap of purple lace to Craig under the table.

  “What are you doing?”

  “If you don’t know, I must be doing it wrong.” I was even batting my eyelashes and twirling my fingers in my hair. Come on. Give me something.

  “Would you like to see the dessert menu?” I jumped at the sound of the chipper voice, and cursed the twit and her perky breasts.

  “We’ll split the strawberry shortcake. Extra whipped cream.” Craig smiled at her over my shoulder. Hello? Panty less woman more than willing to fuck you two inches away, and you want the bimbo with the fake boobs?

  “She probably has no sensation.” I sat so that one leg was on the floor and the shin of the other rested between us.

  “Who?” He twirled the ice in his empty water glass, finding it so much more fascinating than fantasy twenty-six.

  “The waitress. When you have a boob job it can damage the nerves on your nipples, leaving them in that permanently hardened state.”

  A low chuckle rumbled through me as his head slowly nodded. “Good to know. Did you find that out in your research?”

  “Yes.” The last heroine was a former stripper. I love researching my stories.

  “Is that what this is?”

  “What?”

  He pulled the panties from his pocket and set them on the table between us. On the table! I grabbed them and shoved them under my leg.

  “No. This is me trying to have an affair proof marriage. Pretty hard to do with a guy who refuses to have sex with me.”

  His knuckle rubbed at my chin. “I’m not going to cheat on you. Why would you ever think something like that?”

  I looked deep into those gray blue eyes. The ones I was so happy both boys got. Hazy, calm, sweet and loving. “Lack of intimacy is one of the first signs.”

  “Here you go!” Miss Perky Tits was back. She should be working at the colorful restaurants we took the kids too, not a high dollar place like this. Craig thanked her and she mercifully went on her way. But Craig seemed to be done talking. He dug right in to the strawberry shortcake. Of course food would be more important than me trying to fool around in a public place.

  “You want some?” He had the nerve to ask, waving a forkful of whipped cream in my face.

  That’s what I needed. Sugar laden fat calories. I shook my head. What I wanted was for him to want me, like he used to.

  Again with the fork in my face. “You sure? It’s good. Not as good as yours, but good.”

  Backhanded compliments were as good as it got lately. Might as well give up. I turned and started to slide my other leg to the floor. His icy fingers held my knee at the back of the booth. Hard.

  “These strawberries aren’t as sweet as the one’s you grew.” He spoke calmly; as if his fingers weren’t pressing so hard into my thigh they were leaving marks. “Your cream is better too.”

  He ate the dessert coolly, as his hand traveled further up my thigh. I smiled, realizing what he was doing. So this was how he wanted to play. He didn’t need to be so secretive; my back was to the dimly lit restaurant. I swiped my finger through a mound of whipped cream and looked into his eyes as I licked at the dollop with my tongue once, twice, then plunged the finger between my tight lips.

  He licked his lips and went back to the shortcake. What the hell did I have to do to get a rise out of this man? Most women had their husbands begging them for sex as often as possible. I couldn’t get mine to – Hello! His hand slid to cup my mound with his palm. He held it perfectly still, except for his thumb stroking my curls as if petting a cat. Thank you number twenty-six.

  My pussy had been humming ever since I decided to go through with the plan and remove my panties in the ladies room stall. I never expected him to go through with it. It. Whatever it was. What did I want him to do? In the book they went so far as to actually have sex. I tried for the life of me to remember how, where, but my brain stopped caring as his hand slipped further down, his middle finger sliding effortlessly between my moist lips.

  “We should go.” Now. Now.

  “I’m not finished yet.”

  He acted as if nothing was going on, as if his fingers weren’t centimeters from being inside of me. Please be talking about me. Please.

  “Do you want more or should I finish it?”

  Yes on both counts. How to answer? I clenched my muscles, praying he could feel my need, my desperation. I dragged my finger across the whipped cream. I offered it to him, but he grinned and shook his head. I licked at it with the tip of my tongue, but he seemed to find the plate of shortcake oh so interesting. I plunged my finger into my mouth and froze as his finger did the same in me. Yes. I pulled my finger from my lips only to gasp as he followed suit.

  “What did you do that for?” I hissed at him. This was no time to tease. When he wanted to, he could get me off with his fingers in two minutes. His dexterity was spectacular. All day long his fingers danced over the keyboard, and once upon a time they danced over me all night.

  “More whipped cream?” How could he sound so damned nonchalant with his hand between my legs? I dipped into the foam anew. Was this what he wanted? Easy enough. I didn’t want to be teased. I wanted to go back to the time when we were hot, when I didn’t go to sleep alone, wondering what he was doing, and with whomI opened my mouth, showing him my tongue as I laid my finger flat against it, closing my mouth slowly. The pad of his thumb pulsed against my clit as a finger slid inside. It was fantastic. The thrill, the sensation, the tensing beginning deep inside.

  My head snapped up as he stopped. Stopped? What the – oh. My finger came out of my mouth. His eyes were trained on the plate. He stabbed a strawberry, then bit into it. I know he purposely closed his lips around it as he pulled away. Just to remind me of what he withheld. He hadn’t gone down on me in a year.

  I dragged three fingers across the plate this time. He wanted me to show him what I wanted. Fine by me. No one could see what I did, no one but him. Spreading my fingers I used the tip of my tongue to slowly lick up each finger. His thumb pulsed insistently in time with my ministrations. The thrill of being out in public coupled with the wonderful sensations had me on the verge of an orgasm. What brought me there, as I sucked the sweetness from my fingers, was that he wanted me. Wanted me badly enough to play games in the booth of a restaurant.

  As the waves crashed over me I fell forward, leaning against him as I came back to earth. He didn’t move his hand until I sat back up. He stared at me as he sucked each finger. If only we’d thought to bring the van. There was no possible way for that to happen in his tiny sports car.

  “Your turn.” I reached for him but he scooted against the wall and reached into the pocket of his jacket for his wallet. Pulling out far too many bills he nudged me out of the booth without a word. As I grabbed my purse I watched him snag the underwear crammed against the booth and slide them into his pocket. Thank you number twenty-six!

  With his hand in mine he hauled me out of the restaurant. I was breathless in my efforts to keep up with him while he pulled me to the edge of the parking lot where he parked his car. He always parked his car so that no one would ding it when the opened their doors, usually as far away from the other cars as possible. Strange, the difference between men and women. I always parked
as near to the entrance as I could, under a light if possible. Men never worried about safety.

  My heels clicked on the asphalt and the smell of car exhaust from the neighboring freeway bit at my nose as the darkness surrounded us. From the edge of the parking lot I could see taillights gunning their way westward, the whoosh of their speed echoing in my ears.

  Would he want me to blow him in the car? Should I remind him we tried that when he bought it and it was a logistical nightmare? There was no back seat, the seats didn’t recline, and if I got on top of him in the drivers seat the horn would go off each time.

  Releasing my hand he shoved me forward, against the hood of the car. The metal was hot against my stomach through the thin silk of my dress. What the hell? In a decade together he’d never been rough before. Not once. His foot was between mine, kicking my legs apart as he pressed his hardness against me. “Say yes.” His breath singed my ear with the smell of sugar, strawberries and me on his lips.

  “Yes,” I moaned. His hands were already on my hips, pulling me to him. I stared into the night, watching the cars, wondering how many people could catch the show if they only thought to look out their window. I heard his zipper release, felt his fingers sweep across my cunt, testing my readiness. His hands moved up to my back, my need mixing with the sweat from the heat of the night.

  “Thirty-seven.” He whispered the words as he thrust, burying himself completely inside of me. I was so lost in the sensation I didn’t even care to think what he meant. Just that he not stop…that he never stop.

  His hand at the small of my back pressed me against the hood of the car, my flushed cheek scalded by the metal. I could hear our bodies slapping together, feel him opening me thoroughly to him. I tried to do something, meet his thrusts, squeeze him, but I was only able to receive.

  “Sshhh,” he breathed into my ear. It was then that I heard my moans. Sounds I couldn’t stop if my life depended on it. The world was watching me receive the best fuck of my entire life. No way was I putting a lid on that.

  Rough material scratched at my lips when his fingers stuffed something in my mouth. A gag. He was gagging me? My tongue chafed and I realized he’d stuffed my own panties in my mouth to muffle my sounds of ecstasy.

  He didn’t let up his onslaught, sandwiching me between his body and the car. His thumb pressed against my anus. I loved it when he fingered me while he went down on me but he’d never done it while he fucked me. His free hand left my hip, pulling my hand between my legs. He pressed my fingers against my clit, but when he withdrew his hand I slid them back farther, making a vee with my fingers so I could feel him plunge in and out of me, claiming me as his.

  Once his hand returned to my hip, his finger claimed my ass, sending more pleasure through me. It sent me over the edge, and he stretched the orgasm for me with his long full strokes. I was gasping when he withdrew from me, feeling hot liquid squirting against my bare back. He must have lifted my dress higher than I realized, far too high for my comfort, even in my current post-orgasmic state. I tried to stand up and cover myself, but he held me against the hood while he rubbed his seed into my skin.

  Stowing everything I needed for my early morning deposition, I snuck in through the back door. It was easily twenty degrees cooler in their house. Thank goodness they needed to go out so I could work in comfort. The documentation I’d brought home was done, as much as it could be until tomorrow. I’d be so glad when this case was over.

  Mold litigation was a hot topic right now. Every major insurance company and contractor pointed the finger elsewhere, leaving homeowners to pay exorbitant amounts of money just to make their houses livable again. But not this time. The largest developer in town was dead to rights. They’d caused the leak that led to the mold, they knew it, and they’d be paying for it, big time. The case would be a big moneymaker for the firm. The bonus might pay off some of the more pressing bills.

  My bills, not his.

  Trevor lounged on the living room sofa, flipping through the channels. He wasn’t the one who ran up the credit cards buying shoes and purses. He hadn’t doubled the budget for the wedding. He’d turned off the cable, stopped drinking, and taken on roofing work with his brother’s company just to make ends meet.

  Trevor was amazing. Smart, kind, thoughtful and drop dead sexy. I grinned, remembering how when we were first together I called him C&H sugar. Cut & Hung. His body stayed toned and bronzed from the roofing and his mind stayed sharp dealing with financial markets all day. I know the way other women look at him, at us, trying to figure out just why he’s with me.

  Long ago I gave up trying to make sense of it. We had something that was bigger than us, something I was grateful for, when I took the time to realize just what I had. I crossed the room, kneeling in front of the couch where he lay.

  He smiled, tangling his fingers in my hair as he pulled my face to his. “You had a cigarette.”

  I felt my smile fall to the floor. Hours ago. I’d brushed my teeth since then.

  “I’m not kissing you after you’ve been smoking.” Was he teasing or serious? Didn’t matter.

  “Okay,” I smirked. I hadn’t planned on much kissing anyway. I reached for the button of his shorts.

  His hand covered mine. “Go check and make sure the kids are asleep first.”

  I nodded in agreement and hit the stairs, kicking off my slides as I went. I hadn’t even thought about the boys. Some babysitter I was. Peeking through the door to their room I caught myself sighing. Kids were beautiful when they slept. One still clutched a tattered green blanket; the other kept a menagerie of stuffed elephants at the foot of his bed. I loved those boys, but always kept a safe emotional distance. I wanted a family so badly I ached when one got too close.

  Softly pulling the door closed I turned and almost leapt out of my skin. Trevor was right there, so close our chests were touching. I might have screamed if not for his finger pressing against my lips, his head shaking in a warning to be quiet. His head jerked in the direction of the door at the end of the hall. The master bedroom?

  A thrill danced down my spine. We crept silently across the carpet and into Craig and Cassie’s bedroom. What was it about having sex in someone else’s bed?

  We’d have to hurry. It was late and they could be home any minute. The realization would have dampened my panties, if I wore any. Mine probably still sat on my dining room floor. I backed away from him and reached around to unzip my pink dress. As I stepped out he pulled his shirt over his head and added it to the pile. His taut muscles rippled. He’d earned every one through actual hard labor not in a gym.

  Stepping to me he leaned down and whispered. “I love you in pink.” His fingers expertly unhooked my bra, almost without touching my skin. “Show me pink.”

  Here? I obeyed, retreating to the king sized bed and sitting on the edge. Trevor followed step for step, his eyes never leaving mine, until I lay back on the bed and spread my legs.

  Some men liked breasts, others legs, but Trevor was all about pussy. There was something about mine that fascinated him. His hands forced my legs further apart as he stared spellbound at my cunt. His nostrils flared as he breathed deep and with his fingers pried me open even more. I squeezed my inner muscles and his eyes closed for the briefest second.

  “You are so beautiful.” I never knew if he was talking to my pussy, or me but it didn’t matter. It had the same effect either way. I wanted him deep inside me, feeling the part of my cunt he couldn’t see.

  I reached for my breasts, palming, and kneading, desperately trying to stave off my need. I heard his shorts fall to the ground in a swish. Instead of plunging inside, his body loomed against mine, his throbbing need pressed insistently against me, teasing me as he leaned down to lave the breast I held.

  He had the most amazing tongue. Licking and nibbling one nipple and then the other as I ground against him. Releasing my breasts I shoved gently at his shoulders, needing that tongue against the bud between my legs. He rose up slightly and shook
his head. He crouched down and whispered in my ear, “I’m not kissing you after you’ve been smoking.”

  What? No way. He had to be joking. But it wasn’t funny at all.

  He stood up and stared into my eyes. I writhed in discomfort but his hands firmly held my hips. “Don’t deny us both the pleasure Megan. Or all we’ll ever do is this.”

  He traced my pussy with the tip of his cock. Could he really just tease me forever, just because I smoked a single cigarette? As he neared my entrance I squeezed, trying to pull him inside of me. I felt his laugh as he slid inside of me a millimeter at a time. Didn’t he know he had to hurry? Didn’t he know they’d be home soon?

  “You actually read the book?” I tried to wrap my mind around the idea. When I’d brought it home and suggested we use it to spice things up he’d laughed and asked if I was serious.

  “Every page. I can’t believe you thought I would do twelve.”

  “I haven’t gotten to thirty-seven, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have thought you’d do it.” Which one was twelve? Candle wax? Wearing my underwear for the day? He’d flatly refused both.

  “You only read the one you’re going to try?”

  “Of course.” It was in the rules at the front of the book. If he’d read every page he’d know that.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Do you need anything at the store? I need to pick up something on our way home.”

  Back to reality. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow. I don’t want Megan and Trevor to have to wait for us. They were so great to fill in; I don’t want to take advantage.

  Craig nodded and drove past the store. “I’ll drop you off, then be right back. It’ll take me two minutes.”

  “What do you need so badly it can’t wait until tomorrow?” I asked as we turned into our neighborhood.

  “Number forty-three.”

  Why hadn’t I cheated and read ahead? “You’re really getting into this. What’s number forty-three?”

  “I thought you brought it up as research for your next novel. Now that I know it’s just for us, I’m into it. I’ve always wanted to try forty-three, but you always said it would make too much of a mess.”