Sandy - Vested Interest

“Wow.”

She sighed, letting her head hang down. “My shoulders have been described as cement.”

“Well, let’s see what I can do about that.”

I added some lotion to my hands and began to knead her tight muscles. She groaned low in her throat, but it wasn’t a groan of pain. I worked at the stiffness, massaging and stroking, feeling her beginning to relax. I talked about silly things. The couple we’d seen taking selfies along the pier. A sculpture we’d both guessed at, trying to determine exactly what it represented and being wrong. Amusing little stories about Van, the boys, funny things my kids did as they grew up. Anything to distract her as the storm outside drew closer. I wanted her to concentrate on my voice, the feel of my hands. Slowly, her muscles loosened, her shoulders sagging. I tipped up her head, stroking her neck and along the front of her chest, over her collarbone, keeping my touch light and gentle. She kept her eyes shut, a small smile on her face.

I tried not to notice her breasts but failed. Badly. The fullness of them I could see perfectly from my vantage point. How slowly her nipples were tightening. How my groin tightened in response. With a casual sigh, she lifted her arms, draping them over my widened knees, pushing her breasts out. I drifted my hands lower, touching her. Stroking over her nipples with my thumbs as I cupped her. She whimpered, a soft small sound, opening her eyes. I met her gaze and smiled as she wrapped one arm around my neck, drawing me down to her mouth. I kissed her, upside down, leisurely, our tongues meeting and withdrawing, my hands still on her breasts.

“Jordan,” she whispered.

“Tell me what you want, my darling. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“You. I want you.”

“Here or in the bedroom?”

In one fluid movement, she was on her feet, her robe a discarded cloud of white at her feet.

“Right here, in this chair.”

My erection kicked up, straining against my zipper. Sandy watched me with hooded eyes as I smiled, leaned back, and opened my hands in invitation.

“Take me however you want me.”

She never broke eye contact as she tugged on my zipper and yanked off my pants. I helped her with my shirt, impatient to feel her skin against mine.

Then she settled on my lap, straddling me. Our mouths fused together, and I held her close, feeling the delicate beauty of her back under my fingers.

She shifted, lifting and settling herself, my cock at her entrance. We both moaned as she lowered herself, taking me inside slowly. Flush together, she gripped my shoulders, taking her hair out of her clip, shaking it loose around her shoulders. She shuddered as I thrust into her.

“You feel so good, Jordan. So good.”

“So do you.” I groaned as she rolled her hips. “So do you.”

“We’re both going to feel even better,” she whispered, then began to move. She gripped the back of my neck, clutching the arm of the chair with her other hand. She undulated over me, her movements smooth and graceful. She arched her back as I nuzzled her breasts, moaned as I pulled her closer, burying my face in her neck as she rode me. I praised her, begged her, uttered a curse or two as she took control and brought me more pleasure than I thought possible. I gripped her hips as she began to cry out, thrusting into her, shouting her name, and coming hard.

She collapsed against my chest, shuddering in the afterglow, her arms wrapped around my neck and her body fluid and warm next to mine.

I kissed her head. “Wow, my darling. That was simply…” I trailed off, unable to find words to adequately describe what had just occurred between us.

“That was fucking awesome,” she murmured.

I burst out laughing. Sandy rarely swore, and I found it rather endearing when she did. And if I was being honest, a bit of a turn-on—especially given the reason for her cursing.

I stood, taking her with me. She clung to me, smiling as I set her on her feet in the shower. “Let’s clean up and go to bed.” I kissed her lips. “We can cuddle.”

“I like cuddling with you.”

“Good. Me too.”She did hate storms. It finally started around two, the thunder beginning to rumble and lightning flashing. The rain was heavy, hitting the glass outside like small pebbles.

Sandy had fallen asleep for a while, worn out from the day and no doubt, our rather vigorous lovemaking, but she woke at the first far-off rumble of thunder, her body tense. She nestled closer, seeking the shelter of my embrace, and I held her tight, trying to offer what security I could.

She trembled in my arms, her face buried in my chest, small sounds of distress escaping her mouth every so often. I talked to her, smoothing my hands up and down her back in calming passes, whispering words of comfort. I had never seen her so vulnerable. Unsure how else to console her, I began to hum. I always loved to sing to my kids, and I tended to hum under my breath without realizing it. Van teased me about it all the time. When Anna was ill and unable to sleep, I would hum to her—she said she found it soothing and it helped her to rest.