Cam

“Honey, I’m home,” I call out. The teasing lilt to my voice is probably a dead giveaway that I’ve got something planned, but I’m banking on my husband not noticing the bag I’m hiding behind my back.

“Dinner’s almost ready, babe,” comes his deep reply from the kitchen. My lips flash up in a grin. I couldn’t have asked for a better set up. He should be too busy cooking to see anything. I didn’t count on him hearing me however, so when his head pokes out into the hall as I’m tiptoeing past like some evil cartoon villain trying to avoid rustling the bags too loudly, I freeze.

“What’s that?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. I briefly debate turning around and revealing my surprise, but no. damnit, no. I’ve had this planned for weeks. It’s our one year anniversary, and I wanted to surprise him with something I’m hoping he’ll be into.

The biggest shock when I married my best friend wasn’t the fact that I fell in love with him. That was a given, considering Beckett’s the best man I’ve ever known. No, what shocked me was discovering that underneath his straightlaced, buttoned up exterior was a dirty talker, borderline kinky man who knew how to possess my body in the bedroom and bring me to new heights of pleasure.

“I thought you were cooking dinner,” I whisper, not turning around. My heart is beating wildly. Please go back to the kitchen. Please go back to the kitchen. But he doesn’t hear my internal pleas. Nope, my nosy husband takes a step toward me, then another, until he’s standing right behind me.

“What’s in the bag, wife?” His voice is deceptively calm. To anyone else it’s an innocent question. But I can hear the desire vibrating underneath those five words. He’s on to me.

“If you give me two minutes to set things up, you’ll find out.” Woah I don’t think I’ve ever heard myself sound like that. All hoarse, and gravelly. But that’s the effect he has on me, all it takes is Beckett being close to me like this for my body to betray any attempt I have at staying calm.

He makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a growl, but thankfully Beck steps back. “Two minutes. Then I’m coming for you.”

A shiver runs down my spine. But I manage to get my body to obey me again and I dart into our bedroom, closing the door without looking back. Leaning against the door I let out a sigh of relief. But I don’t have time to gather myself, and if I’m being honest I don’t really want to. I’d rather stay on edge, ready for what’s coming. That brief interaction was like foreplay, and only makes me even more determined to pull off my surprise.

Acting quickly, I pull the duvet off our bed, tossing the pillows on top of it on the floor. Opening the bag, I take out the different jars and brushes, unscrewing the lids and setting them out on our bedside table. My clothes come off next, landing where the duvet and the pillows are, before I lay myself down on the sheet and pick up one of the jars. Dark chocolate with mint flavouring. Dipping a finger in, the smooth consistency of the body paint surprises me. I take a small taste, and luxurious flavours burst on my tongue.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

I know I don’t have long before Beckett is here, so I make quick work of running my chocolate covered fingers in sweeping lines over my body. I circle my nipples, and then I start to run the smooth dark paint down to my pubic bone.

That’s as far as I get before the door to our bedroom opens, and my already naked – and already hard – husband steps through. His rich eyes darken perceptibly, even behind his glasses. “Holy fuck, Cam.”

Giving him a saucy smirk, I lift my fingers to my mouth and suck off the chocolate. Bending one knee, I splay my legs open. “You said you wanted to try painting sometime, how about you give it a try now?”

He takes two steps forward, his hand drifting down to tug on his cock. I want that to be my hand but I also don’t want to rush this feeling of delicious anticipation. “I get to paint you?” he asks.

I nod slowly and he closes the distance between us, until he’s standing beside me, his gaze burning into me. With one finger, he traces the circle I made around one taut nipple. Just that light touch has me arching into him, desperate for more. But he just lazily brings that finger up to his mouth to taste.

“Delicious.” Picking up one of the jars, Beckett finally climbs onto the bed to straddle me. “But I think I need to add a little more.” 

I watch as he scoops some chocolate onto his fingers, then moves them in a gentle wave pattern down between my breasts, coming to stop just above the trimmed hairs covering my pussy. He leans back, inspecting his progress, before dipping more chocolate onto his thumb this time. Then with a wicked grin, he swirls around the hood of my sex. I halfway moan, because he’s so damn close to where I want him. My hands reach for his firm thighs that are between my hips, but he’s just out of reach. “Beck…”

“Patience babe. I’m not done.”

Closing my eyes, I force myself to let go and just feel. I knew when I bought the body paint that it would be an exquisite form of torture. Beckett is nothing if not thorough, in all things. But he also always delivers. Especially when it comes to orgasms.

When I finally sense his body shifting away, I open my eyes to see heat radiating out from Beckett’s gaze. “You’re gorgeous. Dirty, sweet, seductive, perfect, and all mine.”

The last two words come out as a growl, as he falls forward, catching himself on his hands. With no further warning his mouth closes over my breast, his tongue swirling over the chocolate.

“Delicious,” he rumbles, moving over to the other breast and giving it the same attention. His tongue laves my nipple, removing any trace of chocolate, before he traces his way down my body, licking and swirling and tasting everywhere he put the body paint. Then finally. Fucking finally his tongue finds the chocolate he placed around my clit. Except instead of latching on the way he knows I love, he torments me by drawing light circles around my sex, dipping in then out, never quite giving me enough, the bastard. I love him, but… a girl can only take so much.

“Stop teasing me, Beckett Donnelly,” I cry out, half wine half growl. His answering chuckle sends waves of warmth through my body. But the thrust of his fingers inside of me quickly erases any frustration.

“As you wish, Cam Donnelly.”

THE END