Read A Question Of Size: Stacey's Story (The Right Fit Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Lucee Lovett
A Question Of Size: Stacey's Story (The Right Fit Series Book 1)
A Question Of Size
Book One
by
Lucee Lovett
WARNING: This Book Contains some Sexual Language and Situations
This book is a work of fiction, all the Names, characters, places and incidents presented are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is purely coincidental
Copyright © 2014 by Lucee Lovett
Cover Art by Shuttlestock Photos
All Rights Reserved: No part of this publication maybe copied, reproduced in any format, modified, redistributed, or sold without prior consent of the author
PUBLISHED BY
Lucee Lovett
Publishers Note: The book is intended for an adult audience 18+ it contains explicit sexual situations.
Thank you for buying my book. I hope you enjoy it. If you do please tell your friends. If you don’t please tell me. You can contact me at:
Here’s to your reading pleasure
.
Other Books by Lucee Lovett
Shadow Billionaire Book 1 –
He Stole Her Heart, Body and Soul
Shadow Billionaire Book 2 –
Seeing Beyond The Mask
Shadow Billionaire Book 3 –
Poetic Justice
Pose For a Billionaire Book 1 –
When the Rents Due
13 Door Series Book 1 –
The Retreat
13 Door Series Book 2 –
What’s in the Box
Immortal Heart Book 1 –
The Search For Larisa
Table of Content
Chapter one
I
should end this. Listening to him groaning, grunting and puffing; you’d think he was running a frigging marathon. His sweat drips down my face. He makes me sick. He’s so heavy my chest hurts from his weight. Maybe if I was enjoying this, it wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m not. So why the fuck am I still lying here listening to his grunts and groans, getting more and more annoyed.
My name is Stacey Richardson. My husband and I, live in a beautiful house on an ordinary street in Coulsdon, Surrey. We have what I’d call an almost perfect marriage. However, every marriage has its difficulties and ours is no exception. You see, we haven’t had sex for six years. This is my story.
***
He came home from work one day acting frisky. I had no idea what had gotten him so worked up, but he came straight into the kitchen where I was dishing up dinner. He was still wearing his coat, his briefcase in hand. He dropped the briefcase at my feet, slung his arms around my waist, and kissed the back of my neck. He grabbed my breasts over the top of the plates I was holding. I was so shocked I almost let them crash to the floor.
“When was the last time I told you I loved you?” he asked.
I was too flustered to reply. To tell you the truth, I just couldn’t remember. So instead, I said, “Hi honey, you seem perky this evening. Not that I’m complaining!” I hastened to add. The smile on my face was so wide my jaws ached. It’s been so long since he made me smile like that.
His big blue eyes sparkled as they had when we were younger. As he gazed into my eyes, the love shone from them in a way I hadn’t seen in years. I’d forgotten how much I missed him looking at me in that way, until it was in front of me again. I supposed you don’t notice these things when you’ve been married for sixteen years. You just kinda got on with it.
I supposed.
He took the plates out of my hands.
“You sit down love, let me serve you for a change.”
I was gobsmacked, but I wasn’t about to argue the point. I suddenly felt delirious with happiness; so I quickly took my seat, just in case, God forbid, he should change his mind. He threw his coat over the back of the chair and sat down beside me. I raised an inquisitive brow; he usually sat opposite me. He wore the same smile, with a lecherous look in his eyes. It both thrilled and unnerved me at the same time.
We sat and ate our meal in silence; I didn’t want anything to break the spell.. He stroked my hand every now and then as his eyes grew darker in colour, to a shade I didn’t recognize. In the eighteen years we’ve been together, I couldn’t say I had ever seen that look on his face before. It’s almost as though he was plotting something mysterious.
“Where’s dessert?” he asked. I simply pointed to the fridge. “Arr, my favorite,” he sighed, placing the dish in front of me.
Then abruptly, he stuck his hand up my skirt and found my sweet spot, I almost died. I had no idea it still worked down there, seeing as no one but me had gone anywhere near it for six years. I had no complaints; it felt good. I was alive and feeling his hand on my crotch was divine. I opened my legs to give him better access to my hungry hole. Hoping, beyond hope he’d move the offensive material, which blocked his entry to my desire. I was tempted to get up from the table and remove my panties, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.
It's been such a long time.
Any attention he paid to my sex now was worth its weight in gold in my eyes. So I sat there and nibbled on the chocolate mousse I’d made for dessert. Sucked on the spoon as though I was sucking on a big juicy cock,
as if I’d know how to suck a big cock or any cock for that matter.
I caught my breath as he slipped his finger between the material and my hot dripping snatch.
Oh God, this is really happening!
I shifted my arse forward in an attempt to draw his hand in farther.
I had no idea my eyes closed until they flew open, hearing Jeff’s deep baritone voice say, “Should we take this to the bedroom?”
My heart leaped to my constricted throat. This was real; we were going to have sex. I pinched myself, just to make sure. I stared at Jeff like a deer caught in headlights with nowhere to run for safety.
He must have read something on my face. “Are you alright, love?” he asked. “You look a bit green. Should we just call it a night, are you not feeling up to it?”
No fucking way was he getting out of this. I grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs.
“I’m fine, darling. Maybe it’s the light, but I feel great. Just let me take a quick dip in the shower first,” I garbled out.
When we reached the landing, I left Jeff to use the hallway shower while I took mine in the ensuite. I threw off my clothes as soon as I entered our bedroom. Just stopping long enough to grab a see-through negligée from the dresser. I was almost naked by the time I’d gotten to the bathroom door. Every second counted. I had no desire to come out of the bathroom and find him asleep.
I don’t believe I’ve ever washed so fast in my life. Out came the musk shower gel, on went the shower—I jumped in. I quickly scrubbed my body down, paying particular attention to my sweet spot. Pulled off the showerhead and hosed myself down. Wishing I had at least two more pairs of hands. On went the musk moisturizer and body mist spray. I brushed my teeth and hair. I stood in front of the mirror for a hot second pushing up my breasts, trying to pump some life into them. I slipped into the negligée, walking back into the bedroom.
Jeff was sitting on the edge of the bed wide-awake,
thank God
. The remote control in his hand flicked through the channels. I pulled up my hair to put it into a pony, when Jeff said, “No Stace, leave it down.”
My hand hesitated in midair. Then I placed the scrunchy back on the dresser. I looked around the room for my clothes, but Jeff had picked them up and put them in the clothes-basket. He got off the bed and walked towards me with purposeful strides. I gazed at him with all the love I could draw to the surface of my emotions. Even at forty he was still a handsome, sexy man. His short-cropped chestnut hair with those distinctive gray streaks just above his ears, only added to his attraction. He was more than six feet tall by a couple of inches; his body was still broad and hard. The middle age spread my girlfriend’s husband had developed seemed to have missed him.
I waited in anticipation to see what he’d do. This was his play and I was a bit actor in it. I was dying to ask what had brought this on. However, I was too scared to say anything, fearful anything I might do or say would kill the moment. So I told myself to stay quiet and follow his lead. I could ask as many questions as I wanted in the morning.
He cupped my face in his hands and raised my chin to cover my lips with his own. The kiss started sweet, then deepened. Something seemed to change in him. His lips and tongue became searching, hungry. As though he was trying to devour my mouth with his own. He lifted me from the ground and carried me to the bed. Our lips still locked in the throes of passion.
He laid me down gently and kissed my neck, trailing his tongue along the pulsating vein there. Wow, this was new. I began to pull at the vest he wore just as he raised my nightie. Our arms tangled and we started to laugh. Then he gazed into my eyes.
“I love you so much,” he said. Smiling, his eyes broke our connection, and moved to watch me slide my tongue across my lips.
Free of our offending garments, he nibbled behind my ear. “Would you mind if I tried something new?” he asked. Not wanting anything to spoil the moment, I simply nodded my head in agreement.
“Good.” He smiled up at me as he took my hard, aching nipple into his mouth. He ran his tongue across the tip. I sighed my appreciation of this sensual act. For years when he sucked on my breast, I felt I was nursing a greedy infant. This felt good; this felt right. I arched my back as my sensitive snatch starved of affection longed for attention. I opened my legs wider and begun to rub myself against him.
He moved south of my breast kissing and licking along my stomach as he headed still farther. Oh, my God. My breathing shallow, my heart raced. Was he? I asked myself. Was he really going to do what I think his was? Sixteen years…sixteen long, sexually unsatisfying years I’d waited for this moment. My mouth went dry as I struggled to breathe. The anticipation was glorious, as well as frightening.
Heat rushed through my body like a raging forest fire. I couldn’t take any more. My expectation had me reeling and my mind screamed,
hurry the fuck up, I’m dying here.
I wanted to take his head in my hands and shove him down farther, faster. But I gripped the bed sheets instead.
I mustn’t interfere. I must let it take its course. He was finally trying to spice up our sex life. I must let it happen naturally.
The heat of his hot breath on my sex melted my soul. My body seemed to be sinking even farther into the bed. Yet it wasn’t really my body sinking, my mind soared. I was outside my body looking on, watching as he hesitated, taking little sample licks on my slit as though he expected it to jump out and grab him. I felt his confidence grow as he moved in closer and committed to longer, lingering licks.
The tip of his tongue hit my clit. The tingling sensation had me curling my toes and moving my hips up to greet his tongue. I had to shift my position every so often, so I could feel his tongue on my sweet spot. Still too afraid to speak, to direct him to the places I felt the most pleasure. You have to understand, for sixteen years our lovemaking had been vanilla at best.
He seemed to have gotten the hint and focused his attention back on my clit. His mouth covered it, and as he sucked and pulled at it his teeth grazed my sensitive node, my moans and cries of pleasure seemed to spur him on. I thrust my head from side to side, my spine tingled and breathing almost stopped, becoming shallow. My stomach was knotted and the pressure was building, my sweet spot aching for release. Was this it? Was I about to experience my first orgasm?
I ground my crotch into his face. My hands took on a life of their own, threaded through his hair, pressing him in even deeper. I was at the brink; I could sense it. Just as I was about to scream the words “I’m coming,” the sensation was gone.
He travelled with speed back up my body. “I can’t wait,” he said, close to my ear. He positioned his tool at my opening and pushed forward. He was inside me thrashing about, grunting and groaning. I turned my head to watch the television, as his sweat dripped down on me. I would love nothing more than to push him off. But I don’t. I lay there and let him have his way with my body. I watch with jealousy as the woman on the television reached her orgasm while she got shafted in an elevator.
