Chapter 8 August - Magdalene & Sam #2
The dreaded D word signaled the end of Willoughby’s patience, and he stood up, walked across Magdalene’s lap, making sure he put all his considerable weight on each paw that rested on her thighs, and skedaddled out the kitchen cat door, tail held high.
Magdalene smirked.
“That one always gets your goat.”
“Are you tormenting our son, Magdalene?”
The voice… The quiet, serious, slightly hoarse from long lectures, beloved voice…
Magdalene closed her eyes to savor it. To enjoy the shivers running down her spine, the familiar lightness in her heart and the warmth spreading in her chest in anticipation.
And then she allowed herself a slow blink, once, twice, before her vision focused on her wife. Tired, a little worn from the long drive, yet here. In their house, tonight of all nights.
“Does he look tormented to you, Sam?”
Even saying the name felt holy, like a benediction on her lips. Goddess, she had missed her.
“I hear he is off writing a complaint to the cat union about his human subjecting him to the cruel and unusual punishment of dieting.”
Sam smiled, the slow curve of her mouth making Magdalene’s stomach flip. What were they even talking about?
“Did you know how much I wanted you here, Sam?”
Sam stilled for a second, just a moment, as she clearly relished Magdalene’s words before the eyes turned hot, a touch feral, the smile gone.
“Well, to quote Celine Dion, I drove all night…” Sam took a step into the living room, and Magdalene watched her move appreciatively. Long-limbed, willowy and graceful, Sam had a purposeful stride that could mean only one thing.
“It’s Cyndi Lauper’s song, but go on.” Magdalene uncrossed her legs, planting her feet, still shod in her signature Louboutins, on the soft, carpeted floor. Sam’s eyes followed the movement, narrowing at the unabashed invitation.
“I don’t think it’s all that smart to be sassing me at this time, wife. Not when I drove all the way here, inspired by that song, to follow through on some of my plans.”
Magdalene’s breath caught in her throat and the warmth from earlier spread lower from her chest, much lower. Sam was in a mood. One of Magdalene’s favorite moods, in fact. Goodie. Still, it was only appropriate to ask some questions before she gave herself fully to this particular storm.
“And what plans would those be, Sam?”
Sam stopped in front of her, standing between her spread legs, the Armani skirt taut between them, the slits allowing for a little give, but not much.
Then she kneeled, and Magdalene felt lightheaded at the move.
Only Sam could turn a gesture of submission into one of complete dominance, because Magdalene was already gone, already panting, already totally and completely hers, and Sam hadn’t even touched her yet.
Magdalene gripped the arm of the couch harder and watched as Sam’s eyes perused her body, cataloguing every detail, appraising, savoring, their heat exciting, inflaming.
Sam never teased, never left her wanting.
So when Sam lifted her hands and, all the while holding Magdalene’s gaze, slowly pushed the restricting garment higher up her thighs, until the lace of the thigh highs was exposed, Magdalene almost moaned in relief.
Her wretched day was about to become exponentially better, and a new lightbulb would surely be added to their fairy light cord as a result.
As her palms glided over the uncovered lace, Sam licked her lips.
Magdalene shivered. Through the haze of building desire, she could see Sam’s speculating look, as if deciding what she should do next.
Magdalene, already half melted into the couch pillows, didn’t care much as long as Sam did her.
And did her fast. Magdalene felt wanton, her skin too tight and too hot; she wanted Sam’s mouth, her fingers, anything, everything.
Meanwhile, Sam watched unblinking as her own fingertips played with the lace of the thigh highs, making Magdalene twitch, making her want those fingertips higher, higher, all the way up the apex of her thighs, all the way inside her…
Sam’s voice, low and hoarse, broke the reverie even as it plunged her into a new one.
“Do you know what these do to me? The knowledge that in all your power meetings, every day, in the stuffy office buildings and budgetary reconciliations and planning sessions, you sit there wearing these… And that if I drive home, I will be the one taking them off of you… It does something to me, Magdalene.”
Sam’s fingers caressed the exposed skin, the calluses from lifting weights and playing on a softball team making the gesture all the sexier.
“So you drove all the way from Massachusetts to take my stockings off?” Knowing that she was pushing the limits just a bit, Magdalene bit her lip as Sam placed a hand under her knee and pulled roughly, spreading her further.
“Is that so hard to fathom? Me wanting to be home, knowing my wife will be there, waiting for me, wanting me, wet for me…” Sam’s smile was self-satisfied.
Magdalene knew her thong was no match against the powers of her wife.
Any other time, she might’ve been embarrassed by how easy she was, how willing.
But this was not any of those times. Tonight, she wanted to be taken; she wanted to forget how utterly awful everything was around her.
She wanted to be reminded that she belonged, that she was loved, that she was desired despite the ugliness of this place, of her job, of their newfound reality.
Tonight, she wanted Sam to make her whole again, to take away the wretched brokenness she had felt for weeks, for months.
The impotence, the demoralizing powerlessness. Sam could take it all away. Sam…
Sam was everything, and Sam could do anything.
Because Sam… Everything Magdalene did, everything she fought for in the sharp, fluorescent lights of bureaucratic DC hallways, in misshapen concrete buildings, in the backrooms and private jets…
Sam was the crux of it all. Her wife, her world, their life.
And no matter how many times the bigotry and hate tried to destroy Magdalene, Sam was the one who put her together again.
One kiss at a time. One caress at a time.
Just like now, when Sam’s lips kissed their way up to the junction of thigh and hip.
When Sam’s teeth nipped and tongue soothed and mouth sucked a mark, a mark Magdalene would cherish for days, watch blossom like peony petals before fading into nothing, only to bloom again…
Because Sam was generous with her flowers.
And Magdalene craved every single one of them.
But Sam was not going to give her everything this easily . Magdalene sensed that the kisses were but a prelude, a take-the-edge-off kind of gift. And as Sam lifted her head, flyaway strands of blonde hair now mixed with a few gray ones, Magdalene knew she was in for it.
“Will you be a good girl for me, Magdalene?” The beloved voice got lower, somehow hoarser and whip sharp with the edge of command.
Magdalene wondered if she’d survive tonight and how many light bulbs she’d be adding when it was over.
Probably enough to light up an entire house, judging by Sam’s look.
A finger ran over the wet lace of her thong, slowly spreading her lips, yet giving her no friction, nothing to anchor herself to, and Magdalene moaned.
“Greedy little thing.” Sam’s casual observation only made Magdalene arch into the decidedly insufficient caress and huff out a breath.
“Ah-ah-ah…” Sam’s smirk was devious. “Is that a way to behave, Magdalene?”
She wanted to pout. She wanted to scream. Instead, she chose subterfuge. She ran her tongue over her lower lip and reached a hand towards Sam’s face, only for her wrist to be gripped tightly and pushed away.
“I see you are not going to be a good girl tonight. Well, suit yourself. You do know what happens to bad girls, Magdalene.”
Suddenly Magdalene was on her knees on the sofa cushions, her backside in the air, exposed, and Sam’s hands running over the trembling flesh.
Her heart in her throat, her pussy dripping, her skirt all the way up to her waist, she waited…
The palm landed with a resounding slap and Magdalene let out a sigh.
Goddess, perfect, perfect, perfect… Another slap, a touch harder, sending her senses into overdrive, then the caress of a cold hand on her heated skin.
“You look so beautiful like this, Magdalene. With my hand printed red on your ass. So hot, so delicious. Hmmm… Let’s taste that theory.”
Before Magdalene knew what was happening, a finger was spreading her center from behind, spearing her, thrusting once and then disappearing.
She turned her head and was immediately dizzy from both the sharpness of the movement and the sight of Sam licking her finger before pulling it in her mouth and sucking.
“Sam…”
Magdalene knew her voice was pleading, embarrassingly so. She didn’t care. She wanted to be filled again. She wanted the palm back on her backside.
Sam’s smirk was downright indecent.
“I didn’t say you could speak, Magdalene. But since you’re hellbent on being so very bad tonight, maybe you need a little more punishment?”
Magdalene felt the third slap in her bones, delicious indeed, so freeing she almost felt faint, the jagged corners of a painful day falling away, leaving only Sam, and her hands and her fingers and her mouth…
A mouth that was now kissing the still-stinging skin.
A mouth drifting lower, lower still, lower, to where Magdalene trembled, where she was so open, so hungry.
Sam’s tongue delved into her, and Magdalene nearly blacked out.
It lapped at her, undoing the last ties of the awful reality. This love, this pleasure.
Magdalene moaned as Sam’s fingers caressed her clit, setting a rhythm that Sam’s tongue followed. She was already on the edge, already halfway done for, she needed this, she wanted this, she wanted nothing more than this—
And then Sam was gone, and Magdalene cried in desperation, trying to turn back to see, to beg, to plead. Except Sam’s hand was in her hair, pulling, holding her still, holding her in place.
“No, no, you’ve taken enough liberties tonight, Magdalene. You can’t always have it your way. Tonight, I will have you the way I want to. And I will have all of you.”
The tip of the strap-on nudged her open, her flesh still trembling from being brought to the very brink by her fingertips and mouth, and the world darkened at the edges as the shaft thrust into her, without ceremony, without preamble.
This time, Magdalene’s scream was one of triumph, of lust.
“Yes, Sam, yes.”
“Shhhh.” Sam’s hand wrapped around Magdalene’s throat, and her hips snapped into her with enough force to rob her of breath altogether.
This was heaven, this was bliss. Magdalene felt the telltale quiver of her thighs; she’d be coming any second. Sam, always attuned to her, pulled out the moment Magdalene was certain the orgasm was imminent. The emptiness was almost painful.
“Sam…” Her whine was pitiful, she knew it, she didn’t care.
“Yes?” Sam ran the tip of the strap over her ass, toying with her.
“Sam!” Her wife laughed, clearly enjoying the indignation in Magdalene’s voice.
“Yes, Magdalene? Is there something you need?” Sam pulled her hair harder, exposing her neck, then gently biting down, making Magdalene’s pussy clench around nothing, aching with desperation.
“You, Sam!” Magdalene panted, the hand around her throat was loose, not holding and not constricting and driving her crazy. She wanted it all. Everything. Right now. She wanted to be taken, and she wanted to be used, and she wanted Sam to make her let go. To make her forget.
“Me what, Magdalene?” While her fingers barely touched her throat, Sam’s pull on her hair was firm, grounding, ruthless. Wonderful.
“I want you, Sam.”
Sam’s laughter was obscene, leaving deeper marks on Magdalene than her hand ever could.
“Oh, Magdalene, you still think you are in control. You still think you can just snap your fingers, lift an eyebrow, and get everything you want. It doesn’t quite work that way. Beg.”
At the last word, Magdalene felt her entire body go slack with lust. Goddess… She wouldn’t survive this night.
“Please, Sam, please!”
“Please? You will have to do a bit better than that.”
Magdalene felt the strap-on enter her, just the very tip, and she squirmed, trying to get more, trying— The hand around her throat uncoiled, and she was punished with a resounding slap to her ass. She arched her back in pure pleasure.
“Fuck me, Sam. Fuck me. Give me everything. Please fuck me.”
She was impaled to the hilt, Sam’s hip jogging back and forth, rough and forceful, the couch dancing beneath them. The hand in her hair pulled her closer, till they were fully touching, front to back. The other one returned to her neck, squeezing, driving her mad.
“I will always give you everything, Magdalene. And I will always take everything.” Sam’s every word was punctuated by a deep thrust. Magdalene closed her eyes, feeling her orgasm approaching, knowing it would hit her like a freight train.
Sam’s voice was doing just as much to her as her hands and strap.
“I will take everything, the bad days, the good days, the sorrows, the lust, the feelings you want to show me and the feelings you want to hide. You’re mine. Give me everything.”
The thrusts were erratic now, coming through a broken rhythm, and Magdalene knew Sam was close, just as close as her.
“Make me, Sam, make me…”
Sam’s growl at her ear was feral, as was the bite to her shoulder and then they were both coming, thrashing.
Someone was screaming, and even if it was her, Magdalene didn’t care.
It was amazing, it was everything. As the wave was beginning to subside, Sam’s hand fell from her throat and flicked her over-sensitive clit again, before pinching it slightly, and Magdalene was off another cliff, the second orgasm slower yet somehow deeper, bone-melting.
She must’ve fainted after all. Magdalene opened her eyes to the dim light of the bulbs flickering merrily and Sam’s hands running a warm washcloth over her, pulling down the ruined thong and skirt.
The gray eyes narrowed with careful inspection, giving Magdalene a thorough once-over.
She knew what Sam would see. Just love, just bliss, just satisfaction.
And then Magdalene remembered something said earlier and narrowed her own.
“What?” Sam’s smile was curious.
“Were you implying that my eyebrow lift doesn’t work on you anymore?” If she sounded petulant, she didn’t care. Sam’s delighted laughter and kisses to her face were answers enough.
Yes, the world was awful, but Sam was kissing her and laughing and holding her close in the cheerful light of their strung out memories, and so it was okay. They’d make it. Magdalene would make sure of it.