Desire Renewed
The daring lives of husbands
and wives.
"Hey stranger," Trevor
yelled through his open window. The truck didn’t have air conditioning, or much
else in the way of amenities. It was so beat up from all of the summers of
roofing I refuse to even ride in it. The bills had gotten the best of us
lately, so he was roofing again. It was strange the way he could effortlessly
transition from a banker in ironed shirts and designer shoes to a laborer in
filthy pants and a backward baseball cap. When he dressed like that he seemed
younger than ever. In moments like this I truly felt like I robbed the
cradle.
"Hey yourself." I barked
back. "Open the door." Trevor
hopped out of the truck and trotted over to the front door. I hadn’t seen him
awake in almost two weeks. We were both putting in as many hours as we could,
trying to dig ourselves out of credit card hell. Between his golf habit, my
shoe fetish, and the wedding last year we were sinking, fast.
"Home before dark, and you made
dinner. I’m impressed, Megan," he teased, opening the door and relieving
me of the bag of food. Trevor pushed the door open for me to walk through while
he inspected the contents of the bag.
"It’s from Wong Kong. I went
through the drive thru," I explained. "I didn’t expect you to be home
yet."
"That must mean you got
everything deep fried with no vegetables in sight." I could hear the smile
in his voice as he followed close behind me.
"If you want vegetables you
should have married a rabbit." I tossed back at him as I made my way past
the kitchen to the dining room. The binders hit the table with a thud. "There’s stuff in there for you too.
Besides, chow mein has vegetables in it."
"It doesn’t count as a vegetable
if you only eat the noodles." He set the bag on the counter and stalked
towards me.
"I’d tell you to sue me, but I
don’t need any more paperwork."
"Long night ahead?" he
asked, leaning on one of the dining room chairs.
"Yeah, and now that I’m home I’m
thinking I should have stayed in the air conditioned office. It’s so hot in
here." I moved to open the sliding glass door and let a breeze in, but he
blocked my path.
"Have you had a cigarette
today?"
"What I do with my body is my
business." I rolled my eyes at his attempts to be paternal. He had no right to act the father figure
being six years my junior.
His big, work callused hands
encircled my waist as he pulled me to him; his mouth on mine, hot and
insistent. Trevor’s scent, an intoxicating mix of the outdoors and pure
masculinity wafted through me and I relented, allowing full access to my lips,
tongue, and mouth. When I was nearly out of breath, he broke away, grinning.
"Good girl, you taste much better this way."
"I was just saving it until I
got home," I goaded him. He’d been on me to quit smoking since the moment
we met. Quitting now would be like admitting defeat.
His fingers were rough as he drew up
my dress, lifting me forcefully onto the dining room table. "What are you¾"
was all I got out before he stripped me of my pink panties. "Come on, it’s too hot to fool
around," I said, trying to close my legs.
Read on...
Compromising Positions
