Ribbons Not Included [A Red Garters, Snow and Mistletoe Tale]
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by Demi Alex
Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
Description: Just when I thought I had it all together, just when I thought my life was perfect, Christian comes out and accuses me of only wanting him as a stud horse! Not true. I love him. I do. It's Christmas, and I'm searching for the perfect present to convince him that he's my number one priority. I'm trying everything to spice up our love life-from sexy lingerie, to new positions, to different locations. But then he pushes me too far. I'm not sure I can do it. Giving it all I have, I shiver with the thrill of being exposed. Really exposed. What if someone sees me naked at the very moment I can only see shooting stars? Will they think I'm a total slut? Or will they get turned on and join in? My mind says no, but my body can't refuse.
eBook Publisher: Resplendence Publishing, LLC, 2009
eBookwise Release Date: November 2009
11 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [78 KB]
Reading time: 43-61 min.
* * * *
I held my breath and checked my watch. Ten minutes exactly, and the test band was way darker than the guide band.
The time was right.
I adjusted my boobs, fit them into the tiny straps of lace, and then checked my ass in the mirror. A quick little slap to bring some color to my lower cheeks and I was ready for Christian.
Stepping outside my comfort zone, I slipped my feet into my highest fuck-me heels and tapped through the bedroom feeling the heat collect between my thighs as the chain around my waist jingled my arrival. I was so damn horny, that I would have had to go it alone if the test hadn't said it was LH Surge time.
It had been nine days since the last time we'd made love. All the books said that doing it too often reduced the sperm's ability to reach the egg and successfully fertilize the little sucker. I wasn't willing to risk it. We needed super-sperm, and we needed it now.
Don't get me wrong, Christian was willing to look after my needs, but the guilt in the one way action was eating me up. And besides, the last time we tried that, I couldn't stop myself with just a little taste of him. I ended up pinning him down, straddling his face, and feasting on his heavenly cock till we were both spent.
Just the thought of his lips on me made my pussy ache and my clit throb. I missed him terribly, and I was so happy the time was right.
"Christian, honey, please come?" I called, perched on the sea of pillows I'd placed on the bed before taking my shower. Amused with the double meaning of my question, I smiled and wet my lips. Please come, haha.
"Give me a sec. It's fourth and five."
Damn, he was still watching the game. What did he want from me in order to get off the couch and meet me in the bedroom for a bit of our own sexcersise?
Truly, I was trying to add zest to our sex life as he'd suggested. But at the moment, I was all done up and ready to fuck his brains out, so I felt like a wanton woman, rejected by the man she loved and needed when he continued watching the game. I struggled to put my pride aside, struggled to concentrate on the big picture. We needed to have sex tonight in order to take our relationship to the next level. And if that meant I needed to shed my inner prude, I would.
I waited, shifted a little to the right so that my left breast spilled to the side. I played with my exposed nipple, preparing for a night of pure delight. In truth, I expected him to stroll in, totally unsuspecting, and pop a boner so freaking stiff at the sight of me playing with myself. It always turned him on to watch.
Time passed and I tried to get in the mood on my own, but self-stimulation wasn't cutting it. I wanted Christian on a much grander scale than what he'd accused me of. I missed him, too. I needed him more, and I'd prove to him how much.
"Come on, honey. I want to show you something." And I did. I never lied. I had spent the afternoon with an artist-extraordinaire tattooing a henna Super Spermy, with Popeye-sized biceps and a Superman cape, wagging his little tail in a swim for his life above the dimple on my lower back. Christian always rubbed his thumb on that dimple when he entered me from behind, telling me how much he loved it.
From behind was good. It shot semen quicker and stronger to the goal. Maybe I'd ride him the second time around?
"Is everything okay?" Christian asked--his ass obviously still plastered to the couch.
"Yes." I sighed and twisted my hair in a wicked spiral around my finger. "Hurry up. I really want to show you something."
"Then bring it in here," he said. "There's only a few minutes left, but we're down by six. We're going to force a fumble now and run it down the field. We're so pumped. We're going to win this one."
Stupid, stupid football. Why had I ever agreed to the new television set, which took up half our living room?
I let out a long breath and got out of bed, recalling our latest argument: the television set and our demure sex life. Well, that was in the past. But, before I seduced him, I had to get rid of evidence that my enthusiasm was any bit 'mechanical' or motivated by anything other than my desire and need to make passionate love to my husband. He had to know how much I wanted him, had to know how much I needed to have him show me how much he loved me--in every physical way possible.
Balancing on the uncomfortable black, strappy stilettos, I tried not to click too much as I returned to the bathroom and stuffed the box from the test into a drawer. I gave myself a quick glance in the mirror and admired the creamy curve of the tops my breasts. If things went as planned, they'd be much fuller soon and that only meant that Christian would want to suck on them more. Christian's mouth was made for my nipples. It wasn't uncommon for me to come from that simple act as I ground up against him.
Time to get things heated and melt some of the ice on our winter windows. I wasn't wearing these damn shoes for my health. I was wearing them because Christian liked to throw my legs over his shoulders and feel the heels scrape into his shoulder blades as my body bowed and begged for him to let me come.
But Christian was so into the freaking game that he didn't turn to look at me as I entered the living room. So, I decided on the direct approach. No more waiting around.
I sauntered right in front of him, gave him my best damn-you've-kept-me-waiting look and crossed my arms over my chest, aware that my tits were pushed high and my nipples were about to spill over the lace material. I spread my feet, feeding his imagination on how wet my trimmed curls would be when he removed the tiny black strip of lace that led to my belly button.
"I have needs," I said, raising my foot and placing it squarely on his crotch. "And if you don't meet them, I'll have to find some other way." Inserting my finger into my mouth, I swirled my tongue around the tip and eyed him as seductively as possible.
"Move over, Kat. There is less than a minute of game time, then I'll meet your needs."
Damn. My pulse raced and my nails dug into my palm. I made the first move and he blew me off. He'd picked the game over me.
Just because we were married, just because our sex life had been good up until we decided to try for the baby, didn't mean he could dismiss me like that. I wasn't something to pass the time with. I mattered.
The baby. Actually, what really mattered was that the timing was right for conception. I didn't have the luxury of being pissed. We'd work out the rest. We always did.
"I want you, now," I cooed, batting my eyelashes in a desperate come hither plea.
"In that case, how can I refuse?"
Shit. That was the quickest attitude adjustment ever.
He moved my foot off his crotch and unzipped his fly. Taking his cock into his hand, he proved me that he wasn't looking to put me off any longer. He was more than a little erect and ready to go.
"Sit on the table, baby." Using a very distinct and appealing appendage, he motioned to where he wanted me on the coffee table. "Spread those beautiful legs of yours and unsnap the teddy so that I can see the sexy treat that you've prepared for me."
I did as he requested, and he nodded his approval. He stood and dropped his jeans to the floor. Stepping out of them, he kicked them to the side and kneeled in front of me.
"It's been a long time," he said, cupping my aching center and sliding his thumb between my moist curls to my clit. "You'd better be ready for me because I'm going to explode the moment I'm inside you."
"I'm ready," I replied, reaching for him.
"Don't be a bad girl." He swatted my hand away. "You do as you're told or they'll be consequences to pay."