“Please,” she moaned, desperate for him to touch her, to move closer to where she wanted his fingers, inside her. Broadening her stance she was rewarded with a thick finger sliding along her sex, first circling her clit then penetrating her.
“Oh Natasha, no panties, baby. You are so naughty, maybe I should have spanked you harder earlier or maybe I need to spank you again.”
Tasha made no reply, her only response was her core leaking yet more moisture at the mere suggestion, coating Jim's fingers and hand.
“Jeez, honey. I don't need to even ask if you like my idea, I can feel it. You're so, so wet, you really need to be fucked, don't you?” His question required no real reply, a resounding yes was clearly evident and yet the darkness entering his voice meant Tasha did speak.
“Yes,” she mewled and bit down into her lip as a second finger joined the first and they were now rotating, brushing her sensitive spot, just how she like it.
“Stir,” he reminded her, referring to the vegetables that were probably about to overcook but she didn't care. “This is why you can't ever work away from me, Tasha. You need this, don't you?” He waited, clearly expecting an answer.
“James.” She was unsure what to say next because this was not the discussion she’d planned about work, yet she couldn't deny the truth of what he was saying.
“Answer me, Tasha, or I will take it as a no and just stop,” he threatened.
“No, don't stop, please,” she pleaded which she knew had made him smile. “I don't want to work away from you, not ever. I love you, I miss you, please, James,” she cried, feeling a slowing of his movements, delaying her release.
“Yes, baby. Come for me, Tasha. Just for me,” he told her as his fingers stroked faster and his thumb began to flick across her clit. “Spread your legs wider, baby. I want you wide open.” His lips closed against her neck.
Her compliance was immediate as was the effect of it all resulting in her whole body quaking, inside and out until she was crying out, clutching the edge of the counter as sensation replaced previous sensation leaving her incoherent and struggling to remain standing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her becoming more and more intense until the pleasure became almost painful.
“Fuck, Tasha. We will have to stop at one baby if this is what pregnancy does to your body. You're more responsive than ever,” he told her, holding her tightly around the middle, holding her up, soothing her down from whichever higher plain her body was currently residing on.
“You want another baby?” They hadn't planned a first never mind further additions to the family, but she hadn’t expected this discussion so soon.
“Maybe, but we can talk about that later. Right now I want to taste you, Tasha. I plan on licking you dry.”
She turned in Jim's arms so that she faced him and giggled. “I am loving that plan but it may be seriously flawed.”
He frowned, either at her amusement or the inferred suggestion that he wouldn’t be tasting her. “How so?”
“In case you hadn't noticed, whenever you lick me I am many things, but never, ever dry.”
“Ah, a challenge, honey.” He grinned and lowered his lips to hers, then suddenly sniffing reached round her to turn the cooker off. “Dinner is burnt, Mrs Maybury, so let's adjust the original plan for the night.”
“Go on.” She reached up to stroke his face.
“I'm thinking I rise to your challenge and then I make slow, torturous love to you, Tasha. Then we eat, take out or whatever, I don't give a shit and then we talk about work and whether we want another baby or whatever you want. What do you say to that?”
“I say take me to bed, James.” She wrapped her arms around his neck while snaking her legs around his hips.
“Should you be drinking?” asked Jim with a concerned frown when Tasha opened a bottle of beer for each of them as he lay the pizza box on the table in the lounge.
“Jim, it's one bottle of beer, lite beer at that. I’m not suggesting an all-night bender.” She handed him his own bottle with absolutely no intention of giving up her own.
“Okay. You look very, very sexy, baby.” She looked down at herself dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a vest top. “You do,” he told her sensing her disbelief. “I told you, even in a sack.” He grinned, but meant every word, even with his arched brow that made her laugh. “Not that I didn't appreciate you dressing for dinner and your just shagged face and hair help.”
“You are outrageous, Mr Maybury.” Her mouth gaped open.
“Baby, you need to close that mouth or I will be finding a use for it, again.” They both knew she’d have no objection to that but before she could voice that Jim passed her a slice of pizza. “Eat. You're my son's milk machine and refrigerator and you need to eat more. So, eat and talk to me. What's this offer Angie has for you?”
“It's not an actual role, they want me to be myself as a kind of L.A. correspondent for a daytime magazine show.”
“What are you going to correspond on?” he asked curiously, having no objection to what she’d said so far.
“From what I understand it would be looking at whatever is going on out here. It might be showbiz if something is breaking, or whatever craze is the in thing from beauty treatments to fashion, to family stuff, family stuff like baby kind of stuff. It seems now I have a baby people want to talk parenting stuff with me.”
“So where would that leave Connor?” Jim turned so he could study Tasha more closely. He wanted her to be happy and fulfilled but not at their son’s expense.
