He’s in a funny mood tonight. I can’t quite gauge it. He’s slow and methodical with the shaving routine. I realize this is purposeful. I denied him when I walked in the door. It might not have had anything to do with whether I wanted him, but he’s taken offense nonetheless. My fiancé is sensitive.
Once he’s finished shaving, he moves on to brushing his teeth. Then he rinses with mouthwash and follows up with a Listerine PocketPak strip. It’s probably overkill, but he’s courteous like that, and the onion breath is the reason we’re not currently having sex. When he starts cleaning up after himself, I decide I’ve had enough of waiting.
I squirt some body wash on my palms and rub them together, then massage it into my chest.
“Alex?” I wait until he looks at me before I press my boobs against the glass. “Are you ready for me?”
His lids lower and the tic below his left eye tells me what I already know: he sure as fuck is.
He drops the shaving cream on the vanity, or at least attempts to, but he misses and it hits the floor with a tinny thump. He doesn’t seem to notice as he opens the shower door and steps inside. I don’t even get a chance to turn around before he’s pressed against me. He runs a palm across my collarbone and along my neck. Turning my head toward him, he kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Don’t you have anything to say to me today?” he asks softly.
“I missed you.”
“I know that. I missed you, too. Anything else?” He skims my side with his free hand, and I jerk as he brushes past the ticklish spot.
“I love you.”
“I know that, too.” His fingers travel over my hip and then lower, stopping shy of my very hungry beaver.
He’s waiting for something, but I’m not sure what. I filter through our conversations over text today… I acknowledged the beaver, and I’m sure I thanked him for it. Then it dawns on me.
“Happy sexiversary, Alex.”
He stills, fingertips digging in. “Anniversary, Violet. It’s our anniversary.”
“I thought we celebrated that last month. Besides, all the anniversaries we have include sexing, which sounds more fun,” I explain.
“Mmm. I see your point. But I think this one is particularly special since you agreed to do more than just let me get inside you.” He sounds the tiniest bit hurt.
“Happy anniversary, Alex,” I murmur, appeasing him.
I feel his smile on my cheek. Because he’s won. I’m okay with that; in the end, we’ll both win. He turns my head so he can get to my mouth. It’s a soft kiss, warm and wet and minty. I want to turn around so we’re front to front, but he still has me pressed against the glass. When I push my ass out, he shifts his hips forward and his erection slides over my wet skin. He cups me with his wide palm, and I groan, anticipating his fingers.
Now don’t get me wrong, I jill off like the rest of the female population when our significant other is out of town, but it’s not nearly as gratifying as when the person you love does the work for you.
“Happy anniversary, baby. I’m glad I made it home to celebrate with you.”
The hand over my beaver moves up instead of down, and I start to protest, but Alex’s tongue sweeps out to tangle with mine. I grab his hair and crane my neck, leaning into him, trying to get closer even though there’s no space between us. He palms one of my breasts and groans, low and deep. Jesus. We’re so fucking horny. This first round is going to be quick and dirty.
Alex releases my chin and takes a step back so I’m no longer pressed against the glass. Now that I have room to move, I try to turn, but he tightens his arm around my waist. With his lips on my shoulder, he drags his forearm down the glass, wiping away the fog.
The bathroom door is open and the fan is on, allowing the steam to escape and preventing the vanity mirror from being obscured. Through the water-spotted glass I have a perfect view of Alex groping my boob with his mouth on my skin. I’m so glad I wore my contacts today.
He’s so much bigger than me. The top of my head barely reaches his chin when he’s standing straight, and his shoulders are twice as wide as mine. His presence should be intimidating, but I know that under all that fuckhot muscle is the sweetest, most romantic, sensitive man on the planet. Sometimes I can’t believe I managed to score such a hottie.
“You want me to take it easy on you?” he asks, sucking on my neck. He’s probably going to leave a few marks. Not that it matters; I’ll wear my hair down, if that’s the case.
“No, thanks. The opposite of that would be good right about now.”
He exhales a hard breath. “Fuck, I love you.”
Alex holds me against his chest with one hand covering my boob, his fingers separated so my nipple peeks out between them. Once again, this is intentional. He loves my boobs almost as much as he loves the rest of me. It’s unlikely he’ll let go unless he absolutely has to.
His other hand glides down my stomach, and this time he doesn’t stop until he reaches my clit. He begins rubbing circles, gentle but insistent. I hold onto the back of his neck on the not-so-off chance my legs decide to buckle. When I’m panting and moaning, Alex goes lower, easing first one finger inside, then another and another.
This is absolutely essential. It doesn’t matter that we’ve been together for a year or that he sticks his monster cock in me on a regular basis. Alex doesn’t have the kind of package I can jump on without any kind of preparation.