tagRomanceThe Stroke of Midnight

The Stroke of Midnight


It was just turning that preternatural gray that heralds the coming of morning. Clare rolled over in the wide sleigh bed and stretched. Sean was NOT in bed. Where on earth could he be? it was their seventh wedding anniversary - New Year's Eve. That it was a Saturday was a double bonus, since it meant neither one had to make up an excuse for not going to work, and it meant they could sleep in. So where WAS he?

She sat up, and looked out the window. A winter wonderland met her delighted gaze, and it was still snowing. Hard!

"Honey!" she called out, hopping out of bed. She had just turned thirty on Christmas Eve, to Sean's forty. She was a diminutive girl, barely passing the five foot mark, while her husband was a solid six-footer with an inch or two to spare. But what she lacked in height, she made up for in muscle and mouth.

"Sean!" she hollered at the top of her lungs, and jumped when he said, behind her,


He easily avoided the slap she aimed at him, and scooped her up in his arms like so much thistledown. She relaxed immediately, and snuggled into his chest, feeling his lips on her cheeks. His touch electrified her, no matter how asexual it was.

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart!" he whispered, before caressing her lips with his. Still a gentle touch, with no hint of the passion and power she knew he was so good at concealing.

"What are we going to do today?" she asked, when he deposited her back on the bed.

"Everything I do today will be a gift!" he promised. "But you'll love them -- all seven of them!" He bent and tasted her top lip, leaving a wet spot that he blew on before he stood up again. "Ready for the first one?"

Sean explained that they were to spend the entire day at home, and that he would be ministering to her every need, and giving her seven of the personal attentions she most desired and enjoyed. Each gift would be accompanied by kisses, to match the number of the gift. The first gift, her favorite breakfast -- eggs over easy, ham, Canadian bacon, hash browns, banana pancakes, strawberry syrup -- had ended with the first of what were to become increasingly more seductive and sensual kisses, pulling a response from her that she did not know she could give from kissing alone...and that had been hours ago.

It was already 11:00 p.m., and Clare had already received five of her seven gifts, including the facial - # 2, the manicure -- # 3, the foot massage - # 4, and the pedicure - # 5. She blushed when she remembered the heated kisses they had shared after each gift had been given and received. Each set of kisses had been hotter and more seductive than the ones before, because Sean had varied not only his techniques, but also the places on which he'd sucked and licked her, and left the lingeringly sweet impression of his tongue and teeth and lips. She hadn't discovered until today that Sean knew a lot more about her than she realized.

She heard him in the bathroom, and heard water running. Ah! A bath was gift # 6. She felt smug -- she hadn't been able to guess any of the surprise gifts up to this point, and when he walked into the room, she said triumphantly,

"This one's not a surprise! You're setting a bath!"

"Ah! But a bath such as you've never had before, my sweet! And therein lies the surprise!"

He pulled her up from the chaise where she had been lounging, reading the latest in a series of romance novels that he had bought for her.

"Come on, the water's warm!"

He pulled her into the bathroom, and the scent of jasmine flavored the air. Steam rose from the tub, shadowing the windows. Candlelight threw the room into seductive light and shade, and music was playing in the background. She listened, letting him tug her pajama bottoms down her legs. It was a country love song, one of her favorites, by Tim McGraw, one of her favorite singers. She hummed along, feeling her heart begin to beat faster, and her hearing her breath begin to quicken. Sean's hands were teasing her flesh, and his breathing was faster, too.

"Get in!" he invited her hoarsely, before planting a wet kiss on a nipple.

Clare stepped into the bath, and the heat of the water seeped into her as she sank up to her neck in suds. Sean put a rolled neck pillow behind her head, and she lay back and closed her eyes.

"Mmmmmm! Thanks, sweetie! This is great!" When he didn't answer, she opened her eyes, and saw that he was standing over her, staring down into her face, and not hiding the love he felt for her, or the desire that raged in him.

"Make way!" he said, and stepped in, settling himself opposite her on the other side of the tub. He leaned back and closed his eyes, and Clare watched him, marveling that such a man as this could love her.

"Come here!" he said, without opening his eyes, as though he knew she was staring at him. She slid around the side and came to rest next to him, and he pout his arm around her shoulders, turning his head to look at her.

"Are you enjoying your day, sweetheart?" he wanted to know, but kissed her before she could answer. "Because you should know, I'm enjoying mine. Immensely!"

His tongue left a warm trail across her cheeks, stopping on the way to delight in the plumpness of her lips, and the succulent sweetness of her tongue on his. He turned slightly and put both arms around her, pulling her over onto his lap. He was hard as a wall, and his cock twitched when she settled her bottom against it. The song on the CD had changed -- it was Faith Hill now, singing about kisses.

"You're so soft," he said, almost in wonder.

Clare chuckled, and looked up at him. "And you're not," she said, and pushed her bottom against his erection. He groaned.

"Behave, missy!" he admonished her. "Not time for that yet!"

He kissed her again, slow, deep, wet, making her wish it were time right then. "Would the lady like her back scrubbed?" he wondered aloud. "Deluxe service in this establishment includes a back rub with the bath, and champagne. The champagne will be waiting for my lady when she has been powdered and lotioned and perfumed."

Clare giggled. "The service so far today at Chez McLaughlin's has been superlative!" She whispered. "Especially the bonus kisses after each treatment!"

She turned her face up, and Sean lowered his head, willing to oblige her and give her the kiss she sought. Their tongues mated passionately, before Sean raised his head reluctantly, clearing his throat.

"The back scrub, my lady, is next on the agenda!"

The song changed again, and now it was a song about a party for two by another favorite, Shania Twain. Clare let him wash her back, and moaned when he turned his attention to her front. Her breasts ached for his touch, and every time he passed by her clit, she sighed with intense pleasure.

"Sean!" She called his name, and he slid a finger over her aching bud. "Baby, please!"

"Patience, my lady!" he said hoarsely. "Things can only get better, you know!"

Billy Currington began to croon his tune about how he must be doing something right, and suddenly, Clare was impatient to be out of the bath. She was ready for "better" NOW! But Sean tortured her, washing her tenderly, sensually, teasing her aching flesh, and by the time he had given her the last of the six kisses that went with this gift, she was trembling with need, and wet inside the sexy pink thongs he had bought for her, to wear with the hot pink kitty cat nightie top with the cut away belly panel that allowed her outie belly button to peep out at him before he kissed it, sucking it in and tickling it with his teeth before licking it one last time.

Never had Clare been so alive with need, so edgy with desire. Sean had strung her along all day, and now she felt as though she would die if he didn't take her right then and there! She trembled even after he sat her on the chaise and wrapped her in a thick animal-print fur blanket. He left her with a warm kiss o her lips, and a knowing smile on his, to let the water out of the tub. When he walked back in he carried a bottle of champagne and two fluted glasses. He popped the top, poured the golden liquid into the glasses and set the bottle aside before bringing her glass to her.

She slid a warm hand out from under the blanket to take the glass, and tipped it to his as he said,

"Happy anniversary, my darling!"

She sipped the sparkling beverage, and put the glass on the table by her hand.

"It's almost midnight, Sean!" She looked at the clock, and then at the television that he had brought into the room for the evening. "The ball will be dropping soon. What's my final gift?"

He had brought the music into the room with him, and the candlelight, which she had only now noticed, cast the far reaches of the room into shadow. From one of those shadows, Clare heard a sexy male voice telling his lover that he wanted to kiss her all over. At the same moment, Sean slid the blanket off her shoulders and dropped a sweet, warm kiss on her right shoulder. He let his tongue linger there, tickling her, before sliding it up her neck to her earlobe, which he bit gently, and then licked, once, twice, again. He breathed heavily in her ear, and sang, in time with the CD,

"I wanna kiss you all over!"

Clare shook, and turned her head for a kiss. Sean obliged, taking her mouth and owning it, sliding down to his knees by the side of the chaise, holding her in his arms, not moving his mouth from hers, till they both needed to breathe. He raised his eyes to the clock on the dresser, and then took her sexy nightie and pulled it over her head.

"Turn over, babe!"

He helped her roll over, and she felt him move away. She shivered, both with the sudden chill and anticipation. She heard him move again, and turned her head to see him standing over her with a small vial and a black silk scarf. He folded the scarf, and said to her,

"Close your eyes!"

Clare complied, and felt him ties the scarf around them.

"Open them now. Can you see anything?'

"No!" She shivered again, this time only in anticipation.

"Lie down again, " he said, and turned her onto her belly. She felt his hands on her, as he massaged her, starting at her shoulders, going down her arms, sliding his hands over her back, smoothing her buttocks, and then finally reaching her legs. He squeezed and kneaded and rubber her into a puddle of sexual desire and then he said,

"Roll over!"

He sounded as though he had a sore throat, and Clare thrilled to the knowledge that this exquisite torture was getting to him, too! She turned onto her back, and felt his hands on her shoulders again. Her breasts ached for his touch, and when he finally touched them she almost came. She fought to stay focused on the pleasure his hands were giving her, clenching her fists at her side.

"Relax, baby! Let it go!"

He bent his head and sucked an erect nipple into his mouth, and when she was almost mewling with need, he let go, and smoothed the oil over it, bringing her right back to the brink. Then he let it go, and the cold air, chilling her warm flesh, soothed the ache in her loins.

The exquisite pleasure continued, Sean making her ride to the very edge of an orgasm, and bringing her back. She wished she could see his face, and the fact that she was only able to feel and not see added immeasurably to the eroticism of the experience. When he passed a now obviously trembling hand over her mound, letting his finger rest heavily in the slit, she arched off the chaise, trying to get him to touch her. She heard him chuckle.

"I'm gonna get you for this, Sean!" she managed, over the cotton in her throat.

"I sure hope so, sweetheart! I'm looking forward to it!"

He cleared his own throat, and continued to torment her with his fingers, adding his lips and his tongue. When he touched her clit, it was, at first a teasing pass with the tip of his finger. Then he came back, but this time, what she felt, as he spread the lips of her sex, was not a finger, but warm oil. It slid down one side, and then the other, and still he didn't touch her. She groaned when it reached her wet center.

"SEAN!" she called out to him, and he touched her then, a hard finger against her hard clit. "Please baby!"

"Soon, babe, I promise. Almost there now!"

His hand shook as he smoothed the oil over her thighs, and down her legs, giving her time to come down from the high place that he had just led her up. The singer on the CD now promised to make love to his lover all through the night. The men's voices washed over her heightened senses, and when Sean hummed along with them, she felt a gush wet her already soaking pussy.

Sean bent and placed his lips over her clit, sucking on it, then passing his tongue over it slowly, teasingly, tasting the essence of the woman he loved. He hummed along with the song, knowing she could feel the vibrations on her turgid flesh, and then he picked up the little instrument at his hand, the one he had hidden from her, and inserted it into her wet center. She gasped, for it was cold, and he picked up the remote control and switched it on, watching as his wife tensed, arched her back, and came. He smiled, and kissed her mouth, drawing her tongue into his and sucking on it, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

"Is that what I think it is, babe?" Clare asked.

"I don't know. What do you think it is?" She could hear the smile in his voice.

"A vibrator!" She waited, and when he didn't answer she said, "Well? Is it?"

"You tell me!" he answered, and turned a little knob on the control.

"Ohhh!"" she gasped again, and moaned.

"Well?" he asked, echoing her words. "Is it?" He chuckled when she swatted at him, and bent to kiss her there, licking her in that most intimate of places. The combination of his mouth and the little vibrator brought her to another orgasm.

The clock said he had two minutes. He reached up and removed the blindfold, and turned her so she could watch the ball drop with him at midnight. He kissed her, another long, wet kiss, claiming the prize he had won seven years before.

"I love you, sweetheart! With all my heart!" The countdown began, and Sean slid his naked body up hers, parting her legs as he did so, sucking her tongue into his mouth one more time, waiting till the stroke of midnight...

"Happy New Year, Mrs. McLaughlin!" Sean managed, before he lost himself in her... The ball stopped.

On the CD, Faith Hill begged Tim McGraw, "Let's Make Love".

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