January Week 2: Friday Evening with Jonathan...

{if Suspicion =100}

Leah had just gotten back home from work and Jonathan was sitting at the kitchen table. His face had a look on it that she had never really seen before. She knew something was up.

"Uh....hey babe....everything okay?" she said as she placed her purse and keys on the kitchen counter.

"Why don't you tell me?" he said with a sneer. Jonathan didn’t even bother to meet her eyes at first, just watched her set her purse down, his hands knotted into trembling fists on the tabletop. He made a visible effort to swallow whatever was burning his throat, then looked up at her through lids heavy with accusation.

"What are you talking about?" Leah asked anxiously.

"You know what I am talking about." He said, his face strained with emotion.

"I....I really don't--what is going on?" Leah asked her voice timid, she **** a smile, or maybe it was more of a grimace.

"You are cheating on me. WHY!?" he demanded, his voice cracking with anger mixed with sadness.

“Jonathan—What? No—you—you’re not making any sense, I—”

He cut her off, voice hoarse, **** for blood.

“Don’t lie to me! I saw the texts. All the late nights. All the excuses.” He jabbed a finger in the air, as if puncturing an imagined bubble. “I know you’re cheating on me. WHY!?” {endif}

{if Suspicion <100} Leah pulled into the driveway with a lingering ache between her legs and the memory of Principal Howard’s hands still ghosting up her thighs. Her face was flushed, her hair a perfect disaster, but she’d applied lipstick with a trembling hand in the rear view mirror—anything to look like she hadn’t just been railed by her boss in his locked, oak-paneled office thirty minutes prior. She took a breath, smoothed her skirt, and headed for the front door.

Jonathan was waiting for her—actually, he was sprawled across the living room couch in nothing but his dorky Star Trek boxers, holding a glass of red wine in one hand and, for some reason, a single rose in the other. He’d arranged himself like he thought he was a beefcake model, one calf flexed, one arm behind his head, chest puffed out proudly. The scene was so over-the-top that Leah almost broke into laughter, but the way he looked at her made her knees weak with guilt and something else, something filthy and urgent.

“Welcome home, babe,” he said, raising the glass. “I took the liberty of opening a bottle of that merlot you like. Also, I got you this.” He waggled the rose at her, then immediately lost interest in the gesture, his eyes raking over the curves of her body.

“What’s the occasion?” She smiled, allowing her purse to fall to the floor.

“Sexy fiancé appreciation day,” he said, grinning like an idiot. “You’re the hottest woman in the world. I missed you so much I couldn’t even finish my code review.”

Leah let him come to her. He pressed the rose to her lips, then kissed her hard, his tongue probing with a puppy’s lack of subtlety but with an earnestness that made her want to swallow her secrets and never breathe again. He tasted like wine and adrenaline, and, God, she loved him. She wanted to be good. She wanted to be clean. But the tremors in her thighs told her she was neither.

Jonathan was hard already, his cock tenting the thin cotton of his boxers. He pressed into her, rubbing against her through the fabric of her skirt, and she felt the wetness pooling between her legs, the sickeningly sweet residue of her earlier surrender. She almost panicked, but Jonathan was too distracted to notice—he was working her blouse free, his hands tremoring with honest need.

“Jesus, Leah, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, sucking at her neck. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

She let him strip her, let him bear her down the hallway to their bedroom, where he fumbled with his own underwear and then, with a grunt, pushed her knees apart. He slipped his hand down between her legs and felt. She was wet. He moaned when he saw how wet she was, and for an awful moment Leah thought he might ask. He didn’t. His only comment was innocent.

“Damn, you’re already dripping for me.” He said as he moved down to his knees in front of her. {endif}