Best Erotic Romance 2014 (4 page)

He sighed a little impatiently, still engrossed in his computer screen.

“Please?” I added, with a cute pout and one of those looks, the ones I'd always used to get my way.

“Oh, go on then,” he sighed. “What do you want to play?”

“That dancey one the boys bop about to.”

“Well, you grab it off the side. I'll just finish up in my game.”

I looked through the plastic packs until I found one that had the word
dance
on it.

“Got it,” I crowed, “What now?”

Ian put down his laptop and shook his head.

“You're going to have to join us in the computer age sooner or later, dear,” he chuckled and took the game out of my hand.

“Well, I can Google, what else do I need?” I was very good at Googling in fact. I'd got many bargains online, cheap shoes and bags for me and the weird geekery stuff all my boys, including my husband, liked to receive for birthdays and Christmas and such. “I've got you for all the other stuff.”

Ian laughed and bent to put the game in the machine. He also picked the remotes up from their position beside the box and passed one to me.

“Slip it around your right wrist and tighten the strap,” he said, “then I'll get you started.”

“Don't you want to play?” It had just hit me how daft I'd look prancing around the living room. I didn't want Ian behind me, giggling or even worse recording me on his phone to send into
You've Been Framed
.

“I've got to get my cabbages—”

“Fuck your bloody pretend brassicas, mate. Come on, play with me. Please?”

My darling husband's face was set in its determined line. The one he used for denying the boys one more game of Mario before bed. “I don't want to, Manda. I've never played that game, I'm no good at dancing.”

“Aw, come on. I'm crap at dancing too. I tell you what, we'll make it a competition.”

I saw a light come on in his eyes. Ian was very competitive. I've got him to do so many things by turning them into a contest. Cleaning, shopping, visiting my relatives. It was amazing what I could turn into a game if I had to.

“Go on then, what kind of contest?”

“Well, a wager,” I replied, “best of—I dunno—three games wins.”

“Wins what?” He added.

Often the bribery would involve the removal of a chore from his list or a promise to make his favorite dessert that night. This time, I decided on something a little more fun.

“An orgasm.”

“Oh,” he said, brightening up, “sounds good.”

“Yeah, winner receives one full orgasm from the other competitor with no need to return the favor, redeemable at any time up to six months, no purchase necessary.”

Ian chortled. It's a great sound that gets me in the pit of my stomach still, and I must have heard it a million times over the years. My man is sexy, though. I can't help myself.

“Okay, Mandy, you're on.”

It really was a win-win situation. I would love to be showered with all his sexual prowess, but I would be equally happy to suck his cock until he came. I'm rather easy like that. Ian makes me that way; he's hot. I want to touch him all the time;
our friends are always complaining about our inappropriate touching in public. I couldn't help it though. I wanted to wind my fingers through his or pinch his cute little bubble butt or run my fingers down his hard chest. I enjoyed reaching up to nuzzle his neck or his lips or cheek. I enjoyed being pulled into his body, snuggled beside my man.

“Okay.” Ian's voice woke me from my daydream. “Do you know what you're doing?”

“Not a clue,” I answered.

“Just hold your remote like this.” He held it in his hand like a relay racer holds the baton. “And move about. You don't have to press any buttons.”

“I can do that.” I nodded and gripped my plastic stick accordingly.

“Right, I've set it to randomly pick songs for us so there'll be no fighting.”

“Okay, boss.” I winked cheekily, and he reached out his left hand to slap at my bottom.

“Less of that, you,” he growled. He did it on purpose; he knew that tone of voice made me wet.

“Sorry, sir,” I responded, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“No distracting me, you little minx. Now, are you ready?”

“Yes—I mean no. Not yet. Hang on.”

I took off the zipped-up jogging top I'd put on to go outside in. Beneath it was a light, white T-shirt.

“I'll still be too hot,” I said. “I was dressed for the outdoors.”

I slipped off my T-shirt and stood proudly in my plain white sports bra. I'd not reveal so much flesh to anyone else ever, but I knew Ian would appreciate it.

“Two can play this game,” he said and set to pulling down his jeans. If he was going to bring out the arse, so was I. I kicked
off my trainers and my thick cotton trousers followed. I was clad in just my underwear, all my curves revealed. I looked over to Ian. He was stripped down to his boxer-briefs, the ones with a picture of Animal from the Muppets on them that I'd bought him for Christmas. I loved to indulge his playful side.

“Right, now are you ready?” he asked, leisurely running his gaze up and down my body.

“Yep, I'm ready. Bring it on.” I parted my legs and bounced up and down on the balls of my feet in what I hoped was a stance similar to that engaged in by the All Blacks rugby team. It didn't seem to intimidate Ian though. He just cocked his head to look at my arse.

Just then the music sprang into life, and I had to concentrate on the telly. Did I mention I am just a little bit clumsy? Well I am, and I'm not so very coordinated at all. Ian effortlessly moved in time with the beat while I was still working out which foot to put forward first. Partway through the second chorus I went right when I should have gone left and bumped my hip into his.

“Cheat,” he exclaimed.

“Sorry,” I yelled, “I didn't mean to.”

I didn't have time in the first song to appreciate the wonder of my man moving with such fluidity and rhythm clad in the bare minimum of clothing. As he bounded up and down when the screen announced the winner of the first round, I let myself indulge in a little ogling. His hard thighs, his lithe chest, even the cute little pouch of his stomach that showed how much he loved my cooking. I loved every inch of him but especially those inches hidden from my sight.

“Ready for round two, loser?” he taunted.

“Pride comes before a fall, mate, so watch it.” I bent myself, ready for the next challenge, and as I focused on the screen
before me I felt the impact of my husband's hand on my arse, making me totter forward.

“Bastard,” I yelled, as the song burst onto the screen and I struggled to keep up.

He just smirked. The sting of my buttock distracted me at first. I wanted to just turn the game off in a huff and make him spank me for being a bad girl. I nearly did it too, but then I noticed something. I knew the song and the dance moves to it. I cackled gleefully and set myself back in time to my disco days and love of the Spice Girls. Soon I was lighting up perfects on every move. Ian was not impressed.

“Always knew my extensive knowledge of disco dance moves would prove an advantage in life.” It was my turn to smirk as I was pronounced winner.

“A fluke,” he said. “You're still going down, missus.”

“Oh no, darling, you are.” I ran my fingers down my body and hooked my thumb into my cotton knickers and pulled the elastic down, just enough to show a flash of public hair. Ian was engrossed and missed the action on the telly. I snapped the knickers back and started to move along with the character on the screen.

Ian cursed and joined in a moment later than me. I concentrated on following the action and realized that maybe I was as competitive as my husband. I pushed myself to my limit, but still I was not coordinated enough to actually successfully complete each movement. Ian's score soared past mine so I decided desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Ian,” I cried. He looked toward me and I lifted up my bra, freeing my boobs. He stumbled, his jaw dropped and I just wiggled my right hand with the remote in it in hope that by sheer coincidence I might gain a few more points.

He cursed and looked away from me to check the scores.
I held my breath as the song finished and the little game imps or whatever it was calculated the final score, and then groaned loudly when it was revealed.

“Yes!” Ian punched the air then wiggled his butt. “I won!”

I growled and crossed my hands across my chest.

“Oh, no, don't hide 'em baby. I'm taking my prize now. Get here.”

I dropped my arms to the side of my body and he pulled me tightly to him. He ravaged my lips with his, plundering my mouth and squeezing my breasts against his chest. I'm not a sore loser, and how could this be a bad thing anyway? I prayed the boys would sleep soundly, listening carefully for the creak of the stairs that could give away them making their way to us.

Ian was lost in the moment so it was good that I was paying attention. He pushed down on my hips to indicate I should kneel. My pussy clenched and I gratefully sank to my knees. We're somewhat equal in day-to-day matters, maybe even I'm slightly more dominant, but when it came to sex Ian was definitely the guy on top, even when I was riding him. He liked to be in control; I liked to let him take over although sometimes I'd protest, just to make him growl and narrow his eyes. I liked to be his naughty girl.

But a bet was a bet, and I owed him one orgasm. When I settled on my knees in our thankfully thick-pile carpet I hooked my fingers into his pants and pulled them down to skim his knees. He was hard and straining. I loved his darkened rod, the bulbous top, the long straight lines leading down to his tight, crinkled balls. I shuffled forward a touch, rested my hands on his thighs and pressed my lips to the very tip of his cock.

I looked up into his intense stare. He wrapped his hand in my ponytail, ready to push me if he needed to, but it was just a show of his dominance; I didn't need any further encouragement. I
slipped my lips around him and followed gravity. I took in just his head at first, swirled my tongue around its soft, rounded shape, tickling at that spot where it met the shaft, eliciting a growl from him. He tightened his fingers in my hair as I lifted up and sank down again. I took a little more of his stiffened flesh into my mouth and bobbed up and down a few times consecutively, enjoying the light friction of my lips against his dick.

I sucked with great verve and passion and while I did, slipped my right hand from his thigh to the juncture of mine. Sometimes he'd be cruel and tell me I couldn't masturbate while I pleased him, but still I had to try. The ache in my clit couldn't be ignored.

I looked up when I ran my fingers inside my knickers and saw how involved in my blow job Ian was. His head was stretched back, his eyes closed, his jaw clenched tight. I couldn't count how many times I'd sucked him in the fifteen years we'd been together, but it still got to him, still aroused him to such a level that he had to fight not to come too soon. It thrilled me. When I rubbed at my wetted nether lips, they split eagerly around my finger. I found my clit and the rhythm to stroke it that pleased me most. I nodded my head in time, and Ian moaned loudly.

I knew he was going to come; I felt the throb of his erection, the taste of his salty secretion and the tension in his leg muscles as he braced himself for that release. I rubbed my tongue down the underside of his shaft as I bobbed, and labored to keep the pace steady, eager to please him and to feel his warm come fill my mouth.

“Fuck, Mand, gonna come.” He tightened his fist in my hair and I kept my lips around him. I wanted to taste him this time even though, ever the gentleman, he'd warned me in case I wanted it elsewhere. He grunted and stilled, and his come squirted into my mouth, coated it and sat heavily on my tongue.
I lapped and sucked and relished it. He tasted musky, a hint of earthy mushroom tinged with the sweetness of apple.

He stroked my hair, and I stroked my sticky clit. I let my mouth hang loosely around him, tasting him, feeling him soften in my mouth. I was close to coming; as my thighs tightened I prayed they wouldn't cramp up as my orgasm blossomed.

“Come for me,” he whispered. I knew he was watching me, knew he'd read the signs, knew he wanted me to feel pleasure too. I came, my body wracked with electrical spasms turned up so high the voltage went from pain to pleasure while my mind was wrapped up in the comfort and ecstasy of his love.

It was the next day when I found out Ian hadn't been quite truthful with me. When I told the boys I'd played their dance game with Daddy the night before, they both told me how good at it he was, how they often played it together when they got in from school on those nights I was on the late shift at work.

Maybe Ian had been right; maybe it was time for me to enter the computer age and beat him at his own game. Yeah, maybe I was just a little competitive too.

PROFESSIONAL, KNOWLEDGEABLE AND EVERY THOROUGH