Undressing For Dinner

Here’s a Christmas treat for you – a story I originally wrote for the All Romance E-books newsletter, in the long-ago days when that was a thing. Enjoy!

I really don’t want to go tonight. If I had the choice, I’d take the much-needed opportunity to have a quiet evening in with Mark, just snuggled on the sofa watching a trashy film and eating popcorn. Work’s been so hectic recently, it’s been almost impossible for us to spend any quality time together. But instead, it’s the company’s annual dinner, attendance as good as compulsory if I want to keep on track for that promotion I’ve been working all year to achieve. With Mark by my side, supporting me every step of the way, of course.

Photo by Gary Bahra, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Stepping out of the bath, I wrap a towel around myself and walk into the bedroom to dress. Before I’m halfway across the room, I’m halted by the unexpectedly gorgeous sight awaiting me.

While I’ve been cooped up in the office, Mark’s been out running errands, the most important of which involved picking up the tuxedo he’s rented for the event. He’s been working from home for so long now, I can’t remember the last time I saw him in an ordinary suit, let alone the sleek, well-cut black number that adorns his long, lean frame. An air of quiet sophistication radiates from him; an aura that makes me think of secret agents and millionaire playboys. Maybe my mouth drops open for a moment as I gaze at the view he presents: thick, blond hair brushed back from his face to show off cheekbones a male model might envy and a chin that for once has been shaved clean of stubble. How have I managed to forget just how good-looking my husband is?

Desire bubbles in me; maybe not the most appropriate reaction when we’re supposed to be at the Mayweather Hotel for cocktails at eight, but I can’t help myself. A pulse beats between my legs, strong and insistent, and my pussy flushes with sticky heat. The ferocity with which I want him startles me, and I can’t help but act on it.

A woman possessed, I push Mark up against the wall, pressing my lips hard against his. Surprise flickers in his eyes, and I’m sure he’d ask what’s got into me, if only he wasn’t melting into the kiss, opening his mouth so my tongue can flicker inside. Beneath those smart dinner trousers, his cock is an all-too-obvious bulge, waiting to be freed. I don’t often take control in the bedroom, but his reaction proves how much he likes it when I do.

When we finally break the kiss, he’s torn between amusement and stating the obvious. “Hey, Nina, we’ve got a do to go to, you know.”

“I know, but it’s just you, in that suit. It – it does things to me.”

“What kind of things?” His tone is low, lascivious. Seems if I’m not bothered about the time, neither is he.

“It makes me wild – wicked.” I lick my lips, throat suddenly dry. “Makes me want to tie you to the bed and fuck you till you can’t stand it.” Where that last part came from I’m not entirely sure. It’s one of the fantasies I’ve kept hidden away, scared to voice for fear Mark might not like it. The look on his face, and the way he pulls me on to his suit-clad groin, letting me feel just how hard and excited he is, makes me wonder if I shouldn’t have shared it with him earlier.

“Oh, yeah?” His tone is cocky, like he’s taunting me in the hope I’ll turn my dirty words into actions.

“Yeah.” My cocktail dress is laid out alongside my underwear and a pair of silk stockings I’ve been saving for a formal occasion like tonight. With a shove, I propel Mark backward so he lands on the bed, pouncing on him before he has a chance to sit up. An inner wildcat I never knew I possessed has been unleashed, and again I’m kissing my husband with fierce hunger.

He reaches for the knot that holds my towel secure, trying to tug it open to reveal my naked body, but I slap his hand away. “You know what happens to naughty boys who try to peek,” I tell him, and with that I take one of the stockings, and wrap it round his wrist. He makes a token attempt to prevent me tying him to the bed rail, but we both want this far too much. The knot is an amateur effort, making it easy enough for him to wriggle free if he wanted, but he lies there like a good boy as I bind his other wrist in place.

“Now, let’s do something about these…” Unzipping his fly, I yank down his trousers, along with the tight black shorts that already bear a damp spot, more evidence of just how turned on he is. Freed from the clinging underwear, his cock points upward, almost inviting me to stroke it. The absolute picture of elegance above the waist and pure aroused male below, Mark waits for me to make my next move.

Straddling his thighs, I can feel the heat coming from him, smell the musk that is his alone. He jerks his hips, hoping I’ll get the hint and guide his length inside me, but I’m in charge now and I’ll decide when he gets his pleasure.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” I ask.

Mark just nods. His hazel eyes shine with lust and adoration as I gaze down on him, before unwrapping the towel and throwing it to the floor. My nipples are tight, ripe to the touch as I run a finger slowly over first one bud, then the other, feeling my pussy flutter in response.

“God, Nina, you look magnificent.” Those are the last words he utters before I start kissing him again, nibbling his lower lip and placing a hot trail of kisses along his throat. Our mouths are locked together as I guide him inside me, feeling his thick cock pushing up as far as it will go. I don’t move, don’t speak, just revel in the sensation of all that gloriously solid male flesh filling me to the limit.

It’s almost like the first time all over again, and once more I find myself wondering why we haven’t tried this before. Having Mark at my mercy is such a delicious thrill, and the next time we play this game I’ll make sure to tease him for as long as I can before he finally gets to fuck me. But that boring, formal dinner at the Mayweather is waiting, whether we like it or not, and so I start to shift up and down his length, rocking in a rhythm that compels him to buck his hips, trying to push himself even deeper into my hot, slick core. He tugs at his bonds, straining up to try and take a nipple in his mouth, but the stockings hold him fast, and that hint of frustration must be adding something to his pleasure. I know it’s doing the same for mine; I’m closer to the brink than simply having his cock in my pussy usually takes me, and when I drop a hand down to touch my clit, I’m lost. My breathing quickens, the tension coils in my belly, then breaks in a glorious, shattering explosion that has me calling out Mark’s name over and over, sobbing and telling him how much I love him. He comes seconds after me, the steady grip of my inner muscles milking every last drop from him.

It’s a wrench to pull myself off him, but it has to be done. We can’t stay here all night, much as we’d both like to. One last, lingering kiss, then I free Mark from his impromptu bondage.

Surveying my reflection in the dressing table mirror, I see that the hair I pinned in a careful chignon before I took my bath has come loose, dark strands tumbling around my flushed, satisfied face. And my stockings, when I examine them, are laddered, torn by the exertions of our lovemaking.

“I can’t wear these, they’re ruined.” I sigh.

Mark pauses in the act of doing up his fly. “Don’t worry about it. Your legs will look great without them.” He grins. “And don’t bother with any panties, either. We’ve played out one of your fantasies, and when we get to the hotel we’re going to play one of mine. It all starts when I reach under the tablecloth and start playing with your bare pussy…”

He doesn’t need to go any further. Looks like dinner might not be so boring, after all.

 

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