Sex with Billy was never boring. In fact, I got aroused just thinking about what we would do the next time we were together. It was as if he'd studied the book of Kama Sutra upside down and inside out. And although we'd done all of the positions more than a dozen times each, they never got old. He even surprised me sometimes with something new.
We'd been married for six years now, and I had to say, the honeymoon-stage had not ebbed one bit. Sure, we'd had our share of fights...it wasn't all a bed of roses. But the make-up sex...it was always worth whatever we had disagreed about.
Yesterday had been one of those times. It started in the morning when I casually told him I was going out with some friends this weekend. He blew up because he had an important business dinner on Saturday night, meaning I already had plans. Then I yelled at him because he didn't tell me that I was supposed to attend said dinner with him. The accusations continued to fly as we played the old game of who was responsible for updating the calendar on the fridge.
I thought maybe a few hours apart at our respective jobs would settle both of us down. I was wrong. It was impossible to concentrate on my work when our conversation played over and over again in my head and I silently lambasted him for why I wasn't at fault. I was still so riled up on the drive home that I forgot to pick up his suit at the cleaners (which I was supposed to do at lunch but I hadn't felt like eating so I spent the hour overanalyzing our fight once more).
I dreaded Billy's arrival as I made dinner. My mind was focused on how upset he was going to be that he wouldn't be able to wear the navy suit tomorrow since the dry cleaners were only open on weekdays. I didn't realize I'd overcooked the pasta and burnt the sauce until the front door slammed. Apparently his day hadn't gone too well, either.
Neither one of us talked as I set the half-filled bowl of salvaged pasta on the table and we took our seats. I couldn't even look at him. My stomach was so upset with nerves I was surprised I could even eat. We were almost done when he finally spoke.
"Did you call your friends and cancel?"
I nodded.
"Did you get my suit?"
I choked on my last forkful.
He slammed his glass on the table and water sloshed over the edge. "Julia!"
"You have other suits," I said after taking a gulp from my own glass.
"That's not the point!"
"What is the point, Billy? That I messed up again? That I can't do anything right?"
He shoved his empty plate away and stood up, the chair scraping against the hardwood after it slid off the edge of the rug.
I cringed at the sound and held my breath.
He stood for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides. And then he stomped out of the room. I heard the jingle of keys and the slam of the front door.
Numbly, I cleared the table. When he still hadn't returned by the time I had cleaned up the kitchen, I shut up the house for the night and retreated to our bedroom. I pulled back the sheets and hid underneath—fully clothed—finally letting loose of all the emotions that had been building up.
The room was still dark when I opened my eyes. I had no idea what time it was. Billy was sitting beside me, rubbing my back.
"Julia, I'm sorry. I've been stressed about my presentation at the dinner this weekend. I just expected everything to go smoothly with you by my side, as usual. I overreacted."
I rolled over onto my back so I could see him better. The moonlight from the window only gave me a ghostly outline of him. I let out a big sigh, closing my eyes again. "I didn't mess it up on purpose. I swear. I just—"
"Shh." Billy cupped my face in his hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth across my cheek. "I should have made sure it was on the calendar. Reminded you sooner. Maybe I even forgot to mention it in the first place. It has consumed me so much at work that it probably slipped my mind."
I turned into his touch, kissing his palm. His thumb brushed my lips, and I parted them, my tongue darting out to lick his callused skin.
We both moaned. I immediately felt a rush of heat between my legs when he gently pushed his thumb into my mouth.
"You are so hot," he whispered, slowly stroking his digit in and out of my mouth, my teeth grazing against it.
I whimpered when he pulled back the blanket and his free hand cupped my breast, his thumb rubbing across the middle. Even through the material of my shirt and bra, my nipple hardened painfully from his caress.
"I really am sorry." He leaned down, removing his thumb from between my lips and replacing it with his tongue.
My hands slid around his neck, pulling him to me. I couldn't get enough of his kisses. We spent the next several minutes moaning into each other's mouth, our bodies pressing against each other, our hands roaming wildly, wanting to touch everything at the same time.
I was feeling much better by the time our make-out session turned more languid. Billy stroked my arms, removed my top and bra, caressed my bared breast. I did absolutely nothing but lay there, enjoying all of it.
My breath caught when he raised my arm above my head, our fingers intertwining, and I felt the texture of silk sliding across my palm. I tilted my head to watch him tie a scarf around one wrist and lace it through the slats on the headboard. He moved his mouth against my chin and throat, his tongue licking, his teeth nipping. He rolled across my body, gently pulling my other arm above my head to tie off that wrist as well.
"I am going to make it up to you, honey." He slid further down to lay between my legs and promptly took one breast in his hand. His mouth closed over my aching nipple. The shudders started low and deep.
###
I woke slowly, yawning and stretching. Smiling when I realized I was restrained again. I opened my eyes just as slowly. My smile morphed into an "O" of surprise and delight. A soft moan escaped, and instinct made my groin ache and rise slightly from the bed.
"Good morning, honey." Billy stared down at me, his eyes glazed, his lips parted as his own soft moans broke the silence of our bedroom. The sun peeked through the curtains on the window behind him, casting him in a warm glow. Like an angel.
I sucked on my bottom lip as my eyes roamed from his short hair—mussed from sleep and our late-night lovemaking—down to his five o'clock-shadowed face where he watched me intently. I moved lower, studying the defined lines of his abs that he diligently strived to keep firm with his daily gym visits after work.
I groaned as I followed the deep V that seemed to be carved into his skin. Followed as it descended to a thin brush of dark, curly hair. Hair that emphasized a raging seven inches of manhood, gripped in his large hand. A hand that slowly pumped up and down in rhythm to the steady rise and fall of his bare chest as he sat back on his feet, his knees apart as he knelt between my own spread legs.
I shifted a little, bringing my knees up so they framed his hips, opening myself to him. My wrists rested against the pillow, tied loosely to the slats in the headboard, making my breasts rise up. My nipples were hard, partly due to the cool temperature of the room, but mostly because of Billy.
