Authors: Caitlyn Willows
Hannah Buckner is having an affair—with the shower
attachment, the bathtub faucet, her husband's pillow, and anything else she can
fit between her thighs. And it's about time her husband knew in vivid detail
how she spends her lonely nights.
Half a world away, Danny Buckner is hoping for cookies, but
a whiff of Hannah’s latest letter has a familiar scent that has nothing to do
with baking and everything to do with being hot. Better than phone sex and more
addictive than chocolate, her letter leaves nothing to the imagination. And
Danny has a few details of his own to share.
Months of foreplay in lust letters that threaten to singe the
paper they are written on are teasers for the main event when Hannah’s Marine
finally comes home and takes his naughty wife in hand.
Our heroine is the recipient of a
little light BDSM. Lucky girl.
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave
“The spicy scent that lingers long after he’s gone.”
Hannah Buckner punched off the radio. She didn’t need a
stupid ad reminding her of how great her husband’s scent was. It was part of
her blood, ingrained in her soul, and she missed it and him more than she could
bear. She cranked up the air conditioner, turned one vent toward her face and
tried like hell to get the other one pointed toward her hot, damp pussy.
Another happy high-desert day with temperatures soaring off
the charts, physically and emotionally. The last thing she needed was to think
about Danny’s scent lingering on her right now. She imagined him nuzzling that
extra-sensitive place on her neck just below her ear, kneading it with his lips
while his fingers kneaded her ass, or gave it a couple sharp whacks to get her
She shivered despite the heat. Nipples beaded. Her pussy…
No, she couldn’t think about that. Later, yes. But not now
when her emotions danced on a razor’s edge from work and countless phone calls,
emails and visits from other lonely, frustrated wives. It was a wonder she’d
gotten any work done.
Need rippled through her again at the thought of Danny’s
strong body pressing hers into the mattress. His weight could crush her.
Instead, she felt power in him possessing her. Gloried in the way he took her,
yet protected her as well. He knew how to take domination to the very edge and
still make her feel safe, hungered for and in charge.
How such a big man could be so gentle and yet so damn
powerful. How such a gentle man could wear her ass out with a good, long
spanking and then give her the fucking of her life was a mystery she never
wanted to solve. Why try to analyze perfection?
Another shiver rattled through her. Want clenched every
fiber of her being. Her sweat-dampened crotch added more moisture to her
panties. The smell of her juices slammed into her nose. Hannah flicked the air
to high, unbuttoned the top of her sundress and pulled the skirt up her thighs
to get cool. It didn’t help. Her hard clit nudged her panty crotch, begging for
that stream of air on it. Not to cool, but to help it come. Tempting, but she
couldn’t risk being caught.
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and wondered
if the light was permanently stuck on red. Her cell phone shuddered and blasted
for the tenth time since she’d left work. Another wife
calling to complain about whatever. Hannah didn’t mind up to a point, but the
constant bitching was ridiculous. Hello…her husband was deployed too. She was
lonely, sad and frightened too.
And horny. Don’t forget horny.
Hannah pressed her lips tight. No, she wouldn’t forget that.
But it went way beyond just being horny. How could she explain to anyone the
sheer perfection of being with Danny? Who would listen to how she still hadn’t
washed the pillowcase he’d last slept on three months ago? Who would understand
how she clutched his pillow to her breasts each night and inhaled the scent
growing more elusive with every tick of the clock? Of how she’d sometimes wedge
that same pillow between her thighs and pretend it was his head, his lips
wandering over her pussy, his tongue tracing every fold, sucking her clitoris
until the orgasm rolled out of her?
She pressed her fingers to her aching clit and gave it a
rub. Eyes locked open, Hannah slid one finger under the elastic leg and circled
the slippery pebble of flesh. God, that felt good. She could come right here,
right now. Who’d know? She could be discreet. Danny got her off all the time in
the car. Ordering her to peel her panties down, spread her legs and lift her
skirts. His hands would dive right in. Sometimes he’d order her to bring a
dildo, tell her to plunge it deep, turn it on and leave it there. He’d make her
come at his leisure, her pleasure. Often he’d tell her to add a butt plug.
And if she disobeyed—which she did on occasion just because
the punishment felt so damn good—Danny wasn’t above pulling off to the side of
the road, having her roll to her stomach and paddling her ass. Of course, he
always found a somewhat secluded spot for discipline, but the added thrill of
them being discovered still cranked things up to heat level warp ten. If it was
night, he might bend her over the trunk to paddle her ass and then fuck her.
Her clit throbbed with the clench of her pussy muscles.
Hannah plunged her finger into the dripping well of her cunt. Just a little more
The blast of the car horn behind her snapped Hannah from her
sweet daydream. She waved an apology and turned onto the main street.
Who would listen to her talk about how much she missed her
husband? No one, because her feelings for Danny were so complex, so inherently
supreme, it was impossible to put into words. Some things were simply too sweet
to savor with anyone but the one person who knew exactly how she felt.
Her cell phone rang yet again. Hannah dug it from her purse
and punched it off. There was only one person she wanted to talk to and he was
half a world away. Anyone else could wait until tomorrow when she was at work
and couldn’t escape them.
God, if she heard one more complaint she’d explode! What was
the matter with these women? They bitched all day, screamed at their kids
constantly, and the letters they sent to these poor Marines. As if the guys
didn’t have enough to worry about. As if they could do anything about the
situation except survive.
Yes, they were all under pressure here, but where was the
happy medium? She’d tried to tell her fellow wives to keep occupied and roll
with it. That conversation went in one ear and out the other. Hannah was fairly
certain her advice had never actually gone in any ears. These wives didn’t want
solutions. They wanted to complain.
She’d tried organizing potlucks, movie dates, even offered
babysitting. Tried to be upbeat, supportive, positive and all that crap. And
still all the others wanted to do was complain. Where was the love, the
She had a half bottle of merlot and a steak waiting for her
at home. Maybe she’d even find a good movie on pay-per-view. That would pass
the hours. Then she’d shower, crawl into that big bed, pull Danny’s pillow
beside her and write her nightly letter to him. It was always the perfect way
to end the day. As if he were right with her, sharing it all. She’d work their
favorite dildo into her and come a few times while pretending it was Danny.
The thought made her smile and helped chase the day’s
aggravations away. She pulled up to the line of mailboxes at the end of her
street in a much better mood than when she’d left work. Finding a letter from
Danny right on top of the junk mail set her heart racing. Hannah tore it open
in the car, heart pounding at the connection to him.
Hey, hot stuff! (And there’s no one hotter than you,
Don’t have a lot of time to write today. Not much news I
can share either. Love your daily letters. Makes me feel like I’m home. Of
course, I’m still getting them in stacks instead of one a day. Poor mail clerk
gets a little tired of me hounding him for mail. Keeps wanting to know why we
can’t do email like “normal” people. Little does he realize how personal
written letters are to us. I think the other guys are actually pissed because
their wives don’t write so much. Must be the smile on my face that makes them
jealous. We all get the goodie boxes, though, and share. Thanks for the new
toothbrushes. We split them up. We still stink, but at least we have minty-fresh
breath…sometimes (wink). Miss you bunches. Miss you so much I can barely stand
it. I just want to wrap myself around you and shut out the world.
Love, love, love you,
Hannah clutched the letter to her chest. “I just want to
wrap myself around you and shut out the world, honey.”
She pressed the paper to her nose, trying to catch a whiff
of Danny. It’d been through too many hands to retain his scent. Reading it again,
she traced her finger over the indentations. Bold strokes, no hesitation, firm,
commanding. Another ripple wiggled down her spine and nestled in her crotch.
Blinking back tears, she shook her head clear and looped her
purse and tote bag over her forearm. A twist of the key killed the engine as
she shouldered open the car door. Desert breeze slithered up her sundress,
instantly drying everything in its path. Hannah pitied the poor newcomers who
still insisted on wearing heels and hose to work. She’d give them one summer
before they downgraded to cool sundresses and sandals. Common sense won out
over fashion statements every time.
She twisted the drip irrigation system on the rose bushes.
Maybe she’d spend some time in the garden rather than parked in front of the
TV. Peace settled around her. Then she opened her front door and saw the
message light blinking on their answering machine. Twenty-nine messages.
One for every palm tree this town got its name from.
The irony didn’t chase away her dread. The temptation to
delete them overwhelmed her. Worry that one of them might be important made her
press the Play button.
“You won’t believe what that motherf—”
Hannah stabbed delete. She’d heard enough bitching for one
day. She tossed her purse and bag onto the couch, the mail on the coffee table
and strode toward the kitchen while one complaint after the other blasted from
the machine—some tearful, some raging, some with kids screaming in the
background. In other words, a continuation of her day.
I should have checked the caller ID log first.
Opting for chilled white zinfandel over the merlot, she
uncorked the bottle, filled her biggest wineglass—Danny called it her wine
tumbler—and walked back to the living room with bottle and glass. A press of
the delete key rid her of all messages. For extra measure, Hannah turned the
ringer off. Clutching Danny’s letter once more, she sank into the comfort of
the long sofa, kicked off her shoes and stretched out. Often he’d sit on the
other end and they’d tuck their legs against each other’s. The thought made her
smile and cranked up her juices once more. A sip of wine did little to cool the
heat bathing her body. She tucked the cold wine bottle between her thighs.
“Bet you could cool me down real quick,” she told the
letter. Then she laughed. “No, we’d only make more heat.”
There were times they’d barely get across the threshold
before Danny had her bent over the sofa, his fingers working her clit as he
pounded his cock into her body. Their version of stress relief—hot, hard and quick.
Then they’d spill the details of their day to each other over dinner.
“Screw it. He’ll just get two letters today, or maybe one
really long one.”
Hannah snagged her purse with her bare toe and pulled it up.
Pen and notepad were within easy grasp. Another sip of wine, a click of the
Boy, you wouldn’t believe the day I had. If I have to
listen to one more person bitch—
Her hand froze on the word. Thoughts screeched to a halt.
Wasn’t that exactly what she was doing to him—bitching? He got it from all
sides every day too. It wasn’t like being at home where they could go at each
other like over-caffeinated jackrabbits. Where was the stress relief for either
of them? What did she really want him to know? What did he really want to hear?
Hannah wadded the page and tossed it aside. She drummed the
pen against her knee, took another sip of wine, squeezed her thighs around the
bottle, then smiled.
My heart, my love, my soul mate,
How many days has it been since I uttered those words to
you? A minute seems too long without you hearing them. I love when you’re
clutched in my arms, your cock in so deep it’s kissing the back of my
bellybutton. It softens slowly as sweat bathes us in the afterglow of pure sex,
pure love, soulmating. How sorry I feel for those who have never experienced
such a thing.
Being apart from each other is painful, lonely, yet
thinking of the reunion carries me through, enriches my daydreams, lulls me to
sleep each night after I make myself come
thinking of you. The toys are
a poor substitute for you, and my skill using them on myself will never surpass
your subtle touch. No one knows my body better than the man for whom it was
You already know how I occupy my days while you’re away.
Care for a reminder of how I spend my nights? I know it’s naughty of me, but I
just can’t help myself.
When the day is done, I slowly undress for my shower, or
bath, whatever mood strikes me. The material slithering off my skin is foreplay
for what is to…come. As you know, sometimes I like to lie in the tub with my
legs stretched on either side of the faucet while the water falls relentlessly
over my clitoris. Remember how you love to stand over me when I do that? How
swollen your cock gets with every stroke you beat it? I love to watch that
first bead of pre-cum glisten on the tip. I love to suck it between my lips.
There are times when I like to hook up the shower
massage. I run it all over my body, nice and slow. I pretend it’s your fingers
exploring me, building me up and up. The spray hardens my nipples and I crave
your teeth grazing them. I turn the pressure low and rake the nozzle head over
the tips. It’s a pale second to your mouth, but it will do in a pinch. Oh!
Pinch! You know how that makes me gasp when you pinch my nipples into long
nubs. Remember when you did that to my clit? How quickly I started to come? How
you made me wait just a little while longer and used your tongue to bring me
over the edge?
Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so distracted. Here I am
being so very, very bad by telling you how I pass the nights.