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"You ought to hurry up, then," he murmurs. He kisses her neck again. "Seeing as I won't be touching you until you come."

Jill groans.

"You don't understand how you've ruined my own touch for me," she then laughs. "I have to pretend it's you, and even then..."

Maybe if she's very pathetic he'll take pity on her.

"Are you saying you can't do it?"

She falls quiet for a moment. She could, with time and concentration and his hands on her breasts.

"I worry I cannot," she says sadly. It's not a lie. Just a concern.

He feels the crawling worry that he's misread her.

"Do you want to try?"

"I can continue, with only the memory of a strong, handsome, loving man to bring me my pleasure," she sighs. She can't hide her smile.

He sees that little curl of her mouth and gives her and finds a nipple through the cotton of her dress to give her a firm pinch.

"I see," he says, "this is a game to you."

The pinch gets a moan out of her, and she looks far too amused.

"Oh, no," she says, still lazily rubbing her clit, "I'm taking this very seriously. You've put me to task."

A pause.

"It's only my fingers are so small."

"Isn't there some adage about skill, rather than size?"

He pinches her again, and then starts sucking on her neck.

Jill laughs, a girlish sound as his beard tickles her neck.

"I've been spoiled by a man that has both," she says, relentless. "It's such a burden."

"And now you have no patience for anything but more of me." He moves up, gently raking his teeth over her earlobe. "Once you come, I'll make your second so powerful your legs will shake."

Maybe. He'll try.

"You often do." She has nothing but praise for how he makes love to her.

Jill sighs, relenting.

"I will try my best."

"It's all I desire," he says, resuming kissing her.

"I live to fulfill my husband's desires," she says, and she's happy to call him husband while held against him, his mouth on her skin.

That she falls quiet after is the proof that she's focusing on the wetness between her legs, eyes on his face in the mirror.

Her husband. Fuck. The shiver that goes down his spine matches the twitch of his cock and the little pinch of his brow as he breathes out against her neck.

“I love you,” he murmurs in her ear. “I want to have you every way I can.”

He likes it. Good. Jill closes her eyes, imagining her fingers are his, and while she'd normally be quick to say she loves him too, she's busy.

"You never disappoint, Clive."

That feels more important to say in the moment.

He groans softly against her neck, a thumb passing over her pebbled nipple again.

"My wife," he just murmurs, eyes on her snatch.

She moans softly, more at his words than his touch. She wants him, desperately. She usually does. A good traits for a wife, she thinks.

Jill fingers herself, slow and steady until thoughts of him pressing her to the mattress of their bed helps fuel the throb between her thighs. The more she continues, the more the flush spreads over her cheeks and chest.

"Let me come around your fingers," she pleads. "At least give me that."

Founder, if that isn't tempting, especially feeling her rock against him as she fucks herself. One hand slips off her breast and towards her ribs, and he holds her against him like he could take her into him right through his skin. He breathes against her neck.

"No," he growls. "You have to come like this. Then you'll get your honours."

Strange for him to be so stern. She enjoys it, the gravel in his voice, the strong hold of his arm.

Jill huffs. She'd beg, but she's so close. Might as well finish and have what she truly desires: him.

She leans heavily into him as she chases her orgasm, the building pressure, until it peaks with a small gasp. She opens her eyes to look at him through the mirror as she presses her fingers deeper. Poor Jill, not having him inside her when she comes. A tragedy she trusts him to rectify soon.

It's something special to hold her while she orgasms with no effort spared for him; easier to appreciate, undistracted by himself. Pristine and selfless, which only serves to make him harder. He meets her eyes boldly, calm. She is so beautiful he could weep.

He doesn't. He has to reward her.

"Good girl."

He lifts her with an arm around her ribs and hefts her high enough to drag her into his lap properly. The mirror guides him as much as his other hand: he lines himself up with her, nudging her hand out of the way. He's bigger than her fingers. He's hotter than her fingers. He brings her back down fast and wet, watching inch by inch vanish inside her until he's all the way home.

"There you go..."

She feels dizzy from the love she has for him. Jill can only watch as he maneuvers her and suddenly he's inside her, and she moans loudly at the pure relief she feels. This is better than what she hoped for: the sight of them in the mirror is the most erotic thing she's ever seen.

"Oh, Clive... you're too good to me."

“The first was selfish, just for me,” he growls in her ear, as he starts to lift her up before fucking her back down on him. “But this one will be for you, as earned.”

She would argue this is all selfish for her, because even when he makes her want to beg, she enjoys it--but maybe she'll let him in on that later. He's always so careful not to overstep, and she worries the bubble might burst at any moment. Might as well enjoy.

"So much better than my fingers," she murmurs, giving a careful roll of her hips as she tries to lean back for a sloppy kiss.

"As it should be," he breathes, near panting until she turns her head, and then he willingly gives himself over for her kiss. Messy but desperate enough to make it hot, needy. "Oh, Jill..."

He shifts his hands from her hips to her inner thighs, spreading her wide as he fucks her so she's on full display.

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