Chapter 9

Moira

The alarm jolts me out of a sound, exhausted sleep and because I don’t want to wake Zach up, my arm slings out with the precision of a marching drill platoon and cleanly hits the off button.

Holding still, I listen in the dark to make sure Zach wasn’t disturbed. I hear nothing and start to peel the covers back so I can ease out of bed.

I’m stopped when Zach’s arm snakes around my stomach and hauls me back into his body. “Mornin’,” he says sleepily as he nuzzles into my neck. I can feel him start to grow hard against my ass.

I squirm in his hold and attempt to push out of his grasp. “Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “I know you’re exhausted, and I have to get the turkey ready.”

His hold merely tightens as he grinds into me. “I missed you.”

I go still, bring my arms up over his, and squeeze him back. “I missed you too.”

For a full five seconds, I let him cuddle me, because he’s been gone for the past three days on a business trip to New York and didn’t get in until long after I had fallen asleep last night. But then I start to pull out of his grasp. “But I’ve got so much stuff to do to get ready for today, so you go back to sleep and I’ll come wake you up later.”

His hold tightens even further, and I struggle between being annoyed and charmed. God, what I wouldn’t give to just lay here and snuggle in deep with my husband. I’ve missed him so much these past few days. Knowing he’s hard for me now makes me horny as all get out, but I also am feeling the stress of a massive Thanksgiving dinner that has to get done. I set my alarm for five AM, having precisely timed how long it would take me to prepare the turkey, stuff it, and get it in the oven before I moved on to the other multitude of things that needed to be done before we sat down to eat at two with our guests.

Zach suddenly releases me and I don’t let the reprieve slide, jetting out of the bed before I’m tempted to let my husband have his way with me. In the dark, I make my way carefully out of the room so he can get some more rest and silently pad like a stealthy ninja chef into the kitchen.

I had set most everything out last night, so I’d stick to my schedule. Squatting down, I reach into the back of a lower cupboard to pull out my roaster. As I rise, I’m startled by Zach’s hands going around my waist.

“Zach,” I say with my heart beating a million times a minute. “What are you doing? Go back to bed. I know you’re exhausted.”

“Not exhausted,” he says as he leans to the side to kiss my neck. “I’m horny.”

To emphasize the point, he presses his cock into my backside, pulling back on my hips so I get the full effect. Instantly, I’m horny again too.

But I’m also a pragmatist.

“Baby,” I say, trying to keep the moan out of my voice. “I love you, but I have a million and one things to do to get ready.”

“I’ll help you after I fuck you,” he says, leaning the other way to kiss the opposite side of my neck. One palm moves from hip to breast, where he squeezes gently.

“Mmmmm.” My head falls backward, and I make a weak attempt to pull away from him.

“I’ve been gone, missing my wife and kids, and haven’t had sex with you in four days,” Zach murmurs as his other hand slides across my lower stomach before diving down into my pajama bottoms. His fingers inch under the waistband of my panties and glide south with purpose.

He immediately hits my clit hard, and because I know my husband so well, that means he wants to hit me hard and fast. He’s fueled by desperation, and this is going to be a skin-slapping session. I know Cannon will sleep through any sounds, and if Jaime happens to wake up, she’s at least too young to understand and can’t get out of her crib yet, so we won’t get caught.

With that thought, and the knowledge my husband says he’ll help me cook, it means I’m all in.

My hand comes up, dives into my pajamas bottoms, and covers Zach’s own, urging him to go rougher on me.

“Yeah, baby,” he says encouragingly over my capitulation. “You want this, don’t you?”

“So much,” I pant as he rubs my wetness all around in tight circles.

“I’ve got this fantasy,” he growls with his lips against my ear and his finger fluttering fast against my clit. “After everyone’s gone home today, and the kids go to sleep, I’m going to lay you out on the dining room table, spread cranberry sauce all over your pussy, and have my own Thanksgiving feast.”

I can see it as clear as day, my dirty, uncivilized man doing that to me, and the thought is too much to bear with his finger moving so expertly against me. I viciously explode, crying out a pained sob of release fueled hotter and brighter by his dirty-talking ways.

“Fuck,” he groans as he pulls his hand free and tears at my pajama bottoms and panties to drag them down my legs. “I’m so hard right now it hurts.”

“Hurry,” I breathe out unevenly.

He pulls back slightly, and I can see him in my mind pushing his boxers down to release that massive cock that I love. My cock. Mine, mine, mine.

I automatically bend forward, spread my legs as far as I can in their confines, and brace my hands on the edge of the granite counter. My eyes slide over, focus on the Pepperidge Farms bags of stuffing mix sitting there, and my body tenses with eager anticipation while it awaits his invasion.

He doesn’t disappoint.

Zach never disappoints.

He drags the head of his cock through my wetness from behind. Just before pushing that thickness inside, he murmurs, “It actually hurts to be away from you, Moira. I can’t stand it.”

My body shudders uncontrollably from the love, lust, and hunger in his voice. I have no will over my own body as my hips slam backward to take him in.

“F-u-u-u-c-k,” Zach groans as his hands fly to my hips to steady himself, and his fingers dig painfully into my flesh. “Oh, damn Moira… damn. Fuck. Feels so good. I’m going to come so hard.”

His words fuel me on. I pull forward… feel his thickness slide free, almost to the end, and because I know the length of my husband so very well, just before he falls free, I slam back against him.

“Oh, God Moira… baby. Don’t stop doing that,” he begs me.

So I don’t.

While my husband stands perfectly still behind me, his hands gripping my hips, I work my angle back and forth, and I fuck my husband hard.

Fast.

And noisily.

We both grunt and groan, hurdling toward release. Skin and soaking wet flesh slapping loudly.

Oh, I missed this wildness we possess only with each other. I’ve missed knowing my husband hungers for me like this. I’ve been so lonely sometimes in our tame lovemaking, maybe perhaps forgetting the connection that’s like a pilot flame, just waiting for a little gas to make it ignite.

And when it ignites, holy hell, it burns hotter than the sun at midday in the desert.

I fuck my husband without mercy, ignoring my second orgasm as it bubbles, and only concentrate on the filthy curses that start pouring out of Zach’s mouth that indicate he’s getting close.

“Come on, baby,” I urge him through gritted teeth. I glance down, seeing my breasts jiggling hard against my pajama tank top, bend further, look down lower, and see him tunneling in and out of me.

Oh, man… so damn hot.

“Here it comes,” Zach groans in warning as his hands really clamp down on me. With nothing but the strength of his well-built upper arms, he holds my body still. He pulls back once, slams forward harder and deeper than I was taking him, and goes completely quiet within me.

“Yes,” he whispers reverently as I can feel his cock start to jump inside of me, every little thump indicating a jet of semen he’s unloading. “Oh, Moira… feels so good.”

My own orgasm pops free, skitters up my spine, makes my hips gyrate against him. The friction must be too much because Zach rears back, comes halfway out, and slams back into me with a grunt. “Fuck… I think I’m coming again. Holy shit… baby… damn.”

Yes!

I love hearing Zach lost like that. His tone… giving me all the credit for making him feel like this. He doesn’t even need to say a single word more to me, because I know in this minute… I’m reminded… just how much he reveres me.

How essential I am to him.

My husband leans over my back, wraps his arms around me, and we let the tiny quakes ease their way through our bodies. We hold tight… immersed in each other as our breathing quiets.

“I love you,” I whisper to him.

“If it’s half as much as I love you, then that’s a whole lot of love,” he says with a chuckle and a kiss to the back of my head.

We spend the next five minutes getting ourselves in order. There are a lot of sweet kisses in between cleanup and righting our clothes. Zach spends a few minutes filling me in on his trip to New York while I pull out the onions and celery from the fridge along with two knives.

As we stand companionably at the counter, me dicing celery and Zach dicing onions—because he said real men don’t cry and then proved it to me by taking on the foul vegetables—he then proceeds to suck some of the carefree happiness from the room.

“So… we’re not going to be able to go away for our anniversary next month like I hoped,” he says quietly.

My hands stop in mid-cut, and I turn my head. He’s looking at me with a face full of apology.

“Why’s that?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but I’m starting to drown in disappointment inside.

“The new distribution center is going live that week. I need to be there,” he says as he resumes cutting the onions.

My eyes prick with tears. I want to say it’s the close proximity to Zach’s work on the onions, but I know it’s not. It’s because I was really looking forward to having a few days alone with my husband. Where we could be wild, uninhibited, and focused solely on each other. We haven’t had that since Cannon was born. We hadn’t had it much prior to that between my work and Zach making his way through undergrad and his MBA studies. We’ve only had stolen moments like just now when he fucked me in the kitchen quickly before I could make stuffing.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” he says as he lays the knife down. He pulls me into his arms and even though I try to keep my face lowered, I know he sees the tears. “But we can go somewhere in January once it all settles down. I promise.”

I know that should be an easy alternative. Sure… we could go at a later time. It means we still have time together, but it also means that again, our marriage is coming in second. It means I’m coming in second, and at this very moment, I realize that I’m not just hurt, annoyed, or disappointed. I’m starting to feel a little bitter about it all.

Still, I do what Moira does best. I pull back, give him a confident smile, and tell him, “No problem. We can go later if we can work it out.”

He looks at me hesitantly for a moment, but then I clearly see the moment… it’s just a look on his face… when he accepts what I say. It’s a look of immense relief as he chooses to believe that this doesn’t hurt my feelings.