The quiet house stirs as he returns from the gym at two-thirty. I've just finished my homework when we meet at the bedroom door. His gaze taking in the teal silk slip gown, a long slit up my right leg, flowing like water around my form. Feeling shy under his observation, I reach for the trailing robe's ties, but his gentle hands stop mine.
"How many of these did you buy?" His voice is soft with admiration as he notices how my peaked nipples betray my shyness, as they shamelessly protrude through the silk.
"Too many, maybe," I whisper, watching his expression.
"Not when you look this beautiful. Buy more," he murmurs, his hand at my back guiding me into our room. He slips the straps of my gown off my shoulders along with the robe. The robe whispers to the floor as his fingers trace patterns across my skin, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath my ear. The silk pools around my feet as I melt into his embrace.
His lips meet mine, soft and deliberate, exploring, savoring, and lingering. It's as if we have all the time in the world. The pressure deepens gradually as our bodies find a new rhythm together, one that feels both familiar and entirely unexplored. Electric currents dance along my spine where his fingers trace delicate patterns.
Our breathing synchronizes into a quiet harmony as his hand slides up my back with exquisite slowness, fingertips barely grazing my skin. When he cups my face, drawing me closer without his usual urgency, I feel myself falling deeper into the sensation. Our tongues meet in fleeting touches, each contact sending sparks of heat through my body, building an intensity that remains somehow controlled, restrained. His forehead rests against mine, our noses touching, his mouth impossibly soft against my lips.
The world spins like a Marry-Go-Round as he guides me down, though I'm too lost in the kiss to really register the movement. The mattress appears beneath me like magic, his body following mine as we maintain this connection. He's never kissed me like this before - with such tender deliberation, such careful worship. When I finally manage to open my eyes, searching his dark, smoldering gaze, I realize I've completely lost track of time and space. Somehow he's already naked, though I missed when that happened, too consumed by the sensuality of his kiss.
"Sleep," he whispers, gathering me into our familiar position. My hand moves instinctively to my racing heart, only to discover it's his thundering pulse I feel against my ear. Our hearts drum wildly together, evidence of how deeply even his gentlest touches affect us both.
"Can I use your lab sometimes?" The question tumbles from my lips before I can stop it, half-muffled against his chest.
"No," he says simply, burying his nose in my hair and inhaling deeply, as if trying to memorize my scent.
"You know I'm a scientist too. I know—" I persist, but his fingers thread through my hair, the gentle scraping of his nails against my scalp sending shivers down my spine.
"Do you want your own lab?" His voice rumbles beneath my ear.
"No... I want to use yours." I pause, curiosity winning over pleasure for a moment. "Are you a chemist?"
"Biochemist." The word vibrates against my skin.
His breathing falls into a steady rhythm as I bite my lower lip, considering this new piece of information. Unable to help myself, I shift my hips, pressing back against his growing hardness. His hand grips my hip firmly, holding me still. "Stop," he commands, his voice thick with restraint. The heat pooling between my legs becomes impossible to ignore.
"Where did you go to school?" I ask trying to focus on anything but the ache building inside me.
"MIT."
Frustrated by his brevity and my own growing desire, I blurt out, "Can't you say something that would turn me off?"
His laughter explodes against my ear, rich and warm, before his teeth find my earlobe. "Is that possible?" he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.
I can't help but laugh too, despite the delicious torment. "I hate that I love you this much."
"Is that possible?" he repeats, teeth grazing my ear again, sending fresh waves of pleasure through me.
Our laughter mingles in the darkness, synchronized like everything else about us, the sound full of joy and something deeper - a shared understanding of how helplessly we've fallen into this moment.
###
His movements are careful as he disentangles from our embrace, though I've been awake since his snoring ceased minutes ago. "What do you want for breakfast, love?" I ask, voice still husky with sleep.
"Sleep more," he murmurs, already heading for the shower.
"Eggs over easy it is," I announce, slipping into last night's backless gown, silk cool against my warm skin. I gather my hair into a ponytail, letting a few strands escape to frame my face.
The kitchen fills with morning sounds - bacon sizzling, eggs crackling in butter, the mechanical whir of the juicer extracting fresh orange juice. I arrange his plate with practiced precision: eggs perfectly runny, bacon crisp, wheat toast golden brown. He emerges in the dark green suit I set out for him last night, the color making his skin glow. The soft click of his watch clasp punctuates his morning routine as he takes his seat. I drape the crisp linen napkin across his lap, stealing a kiss against his freshly shaven chin, breathing in the clean scent of his aftershave.
Sitting down opposite of him, I venture, "Where's your office?"
His sharp glance silences me instantly. I watch, fascinated, as he methodically cuts his bacon with the steak knife I've learned to provide - the only person I know who treats bacon with such ceremony.
"When will you be home tonight?" I try again, safer territory.
He tears into his toast, glancing at his watch. "I don't know. Jason has my schedule."
"Oh... I'll ask Jason then."
Annoyance flickers across his face like summer lightning, gone just as quick.
"Do you like the eggs? How about the toast? More toast?" I persist as he drains his orange juice. He rises without answering - our daily dance of questions and silence. The empty plate tells me nothing of his preferences, as usual.
"What do you want for di—" The question dies in my throat. What's the use? I gather the dishes instead.
The sound of his approaching footsteps draws me to the door. In one hand, his devices; in the other, a large box adorned with a red Mikimoto ribbon. My delighted laugh bubbles up as he extends it to me.
"I told you, you don't have to bring me presents," I scold playfully, fingers already working at the wrapping. I gasp at what lies within - perfectly matched South Sea golden pearls, both opera-length and choker necklaces, each orb, flawless and lustrous seems to be glowing with inner fire. His proud smile shows he's pleased with my reaction, but it transforms to surprise as I act on pure instinct.
The silk slip pools at my feet as I fasten first the choker, then the longer strand. Pulling the tie off, I shake out my hair, letting it fall wild and free around my shoulders. Standing naked before him, adorned only in pearls, I strike a pose-hand on one hip in a wide open stance. "What do you think? How do they look on me?"
His eyes make a slow journey from my face to the pearls nestled against my throat, following their trail down my bare skin. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, fingers tugging at his tie. I notice his growing arousal with a surge of satisfaction, letting out a playful laugh as I sway toward him, each movement emphasizing my curves the pearls accentuate.
"My love, I wasn't trying to seduce you. I think jewelry is best worn naked." The words come out playful as I grasp his tie, leading him to our bedroom. He follows with that intense focus I've come to crave, his eyes never leaving the pearls against my skin.
I push him onto the bed, then straddling him. Each button of his shirt comes undone under my fingers as I slide against his growing hardness, feeling him strain beneath his pants. His groan vibrates through me as his devices clatter forgotten on the bed, his controlled demeanor cracking as his breathing turns ragged.
"After all, jewels are meant to be worn on naked skin," I whisper against his cheek, thrilling at how his possessive stare have grown more intense overtime. Taking his hand, I place it where the pearls meet my peaked nipple. "Jewelry is meant to caress our skin with such intimacy, like this, my love."
Something shifts in his gaze - that dangerous spark that makes me lose control. My mouth crashes into his as I free him from his pants, sinking onto him in one fluid motion. My body arches, taking him deeper as I begin to move. Something wild and primal takes over - a desperate need I barely recognize. My head falls back as I surrender to it, chasing pleasure with single-minded intensity.
The fresh scent of his cologne fills my lungs as I bury my face in his neck. His phone rings - some distant, unimportant sound. His fingers dig into the sheets as I ride him harder, faster, both of us past the point of restraint.
Heat builds, spreading like wildfire through my veins. His tip hits exactly right and waves of pleasure pulse outward. Everything narrows to this moment, this sensation. His throbbing inside me only makes my body more frantic. It's hot. I'm burning from the inside out. Faster. Faster. His tip hits the spot. Waves of vibration spread upward and outward. More. More. A right string is hit. Slamming it. Rubbing. Yes! I hear my scream. Then his body jerks beneath me, and hot juice shoots upward, splashing the spot. The waves continue as one earthquake meets another. Our mingled essence spills onto his freshly dressed pants.
As I try to move, his hands lock onto my waist, holding me in place as he turns us over, still joined. Through the haze of pleasure, I hear him reach for his phone.
"I'm not coming in today," he declares before tossing it aside. His kiss too have grown to be more possessive, claiming. "I'm going to buy you a lot more jewelry."
My laugh turns to a moan as he silences me with another searing kiss, promising more pleasure to come.