I love a couple that are far too comfortable with each other to waste time with frivolities and niceties. Harris and her husband Jimi know how to get right to the nitty gritty. If that isn't love and romance, I don't know what is...
The Tease © Billy London
Harris rapped her fork over her husband’s tattooed knuckles. “Stop staring you gimp!” She commanded even as he howled in outrage. “Oh did that hurt?”
He glared at her. “You know that hurts!”
“More than the tattoos?” She barely held back her derision. “Baby.”
Rubbing his hand, he muttered, “Abuser…”
“Then keep your eyes in your head!” Harris
visibly bristled with irritation.
“I was just checking to see if her date’s
turned up.”
She shook her head at him. “Why are you
such an arse?”
Jimi sent her a humourless grin. “I get it
from you. Don’t you feel bad? Stuffing your cake hole when she’s hungry and
abandoned?”
Harris curled her top lip. “I doubt food’s
the last thing on her mind.” She casually looked in the girl’s direction and
poked her husband with the fork when Brogan sat down opposite her.
“I swear, woman. If I’m not going to ejaculate
at the end of this, you need to stop with the pain play.”
Ignoring him, she watched in fascination
as Brogan offered the girl a drink and food arrived at their table. Seriously?
Smooth. Harris could have applauded. How could she not give him credit for
abusing his position to get himself laid? A girl would have a hard time not
swooning infinitely at such a knight in shining armour type gesture.
“Oi,” her husband laid a thick finger on
her jaw and brought her attention back to his face. Craggy bastard.
“Yes?”
“Right here, or else why did we leave the
house and why are we paying for someone to watch our progeny?”
She leaned back in her chair and exhaled. “Because
everyone looks at us and sees perfection. A union birthed in the stars. We want
people to feel jealous of our love.”
“You haven’t tugged my love in a while,”
he mused.
“Jimi, don’t lie,” Harris fumed. “Just
think back to the last time we had sex, and I remember when that was because we
had to get up and change the sheets…”
“You’re welcome…” he offered, tilting his
head.
“And it was me who convinced you. I tugged
your love, my friend. I tugged, sucked and fucked that thing until it was limp.
Last night, when I reached around you were all… Don’t touch it, I’m tired. I’ve got stamina. Those children, our
business, our house and I still fancy it when you don’t.”
He framed his fingers over his mouth, his
gaze thoughtful. “I disagree.”
“Of course you do.”
“Because you only fancy it after I’ve
already suggested that you put your underwear in your mouth and bend over. You’re
all I smell really weird
today. Smell me. I smell weird. Do
you know what that does to my balls? Shrivels them.”
Harris pouted. “I’m sorry that my delicate
biological balance puts me off. In the same vein, you should be grateful.”
“That I get to throw my sausage down your
Blackwall tunnel?”
She burst out laughing, and flipped her
finger at him. “Fuck you, this thing is still tighter than a virgin’s. I just
accommodate better after three natural births.”
Jimi raised his glass to her. “Maybe you’re
right. And probably I shouldn’t have fisted you that one time…”
“You need to stop telling that story. It
wasn’t a fist. It was three and a half fingers.”
An elderly man tapped Jimi on his bulky
shoulder. “Excuse me, would you mind toning down your language?”
Jimi lowered his voice to say, “My wife
and I are having serious talks about our sex life. If we don’t set boundaries
now, it’s going to be really difficult later on when she pulls out the
strap-on.” Harris stifled a squeal of laughter. “We’ll try to keep it quiet,
but we both should be pretty clear. That way, no one gets hurt.”
The old man, flamed in the face, turned
back to his dinner. Harris groaned, “He’s going to complain to Brogan.”
“Brogan’ll do fuck all,” Jimi dismissed. “We
designed this place, top to fucking bottom, and it’s not his restaurant, it’s
Greg’s. And as Greg prays for our lost souls, so we can do what the fuck we like.”
Harris scratched her ear. “Are all those
fucks to make up for last night?”
He blinked very slowly and Harris squirmed
in her seat. She liked winding him up. They’d been irritating each other into
bed for over a decade. It worked for her. “Listen, yeah?”
“I’m all ears.”
“You want something, you ask me.”
Fair enough. “Husband? Are we going to
bang tonight?”
His eyes darkened and he folded his arms
on the table. Given the size of the man, she was rather glad they’d selected
heavy, oak tables. “I will do you in this restaurant.”
“You wouldn’t,” she retorted immediately.
“I would, I made sure those toilets are
big enough.”
“I know you wouldn’t. That’s why we don’t
do orgies. We both get performance anxiety and I’m not wearing any underwear.”
His mouth parted in shock. “Pardon?”
“True.”
“You’re lying.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “Goodness
sake! Why would I lie about having my gonads bared to the elements?”
Eyes narrowed with suspicion, he caught
her chair and pulled it forward. Reaching underneath the table, he tapped her
on the knee, ordering, “Open.”
She did as she was told and let his
fingers drift over her, enjoying the sudden glow to his cheeks. Briefly, she
closed her legs, trapping his hand.
“Changing your mind?” he said, his tone
low and rough.
Harris slid down in her chair, sending his
hand more firmly against her. “Performance anxiety,” she reminded him. “But if
we go to that pub across the road. What’s it called?”
“The
Bee’s Knees.”
She gently stroked his inner wrist. “Dark.
Candlelight. Those martinis that are like Viagra to you… No one’s going to
look.”
“Brogan!” he yelled. “Bill, now, thank
you.”
Brogan tore his gaze away from the girl
opposite him to snap, “Will you two just do one?”
“Such a lack of customer service,” Jimi tutted, and
gently removed his hand. “And before you say, no you don’t smell weird. Try and
put me off for no reason.”
Harris grinned. “Not today.”
He paused briefly, then counted out the
cash for the meal. “Get up, let’s go.”
Easy victory. Honestly, the minute he gave
up coffee for green tea…
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