Restless and fidgety, I blew on my hot coffee just to give myself something to do as I stood in the kitchen. That’s when Warren said to me, “The roofers will be here in an hour.”

I looked at the clock and sighed.

“How long will this take? I want to go out.”

He shrugged and told me, “It’s a roof and gutters. It takes as long as it takes.”

“Do I have time to go grocery shopping?”

“Can you be back in an hour?”

“Probably not. It usually also takes me about 90 minutes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go then.” He leaned against the counter, looking smug, and sipped his tea.

I liked coffee; Warren liked tea. I liked running; Warren liked yoga. He also liked roofers; I felt trapped.

“They’re going to block up the whole place?” I asked.

“Kinda. Have you ever seen a roof being replaced?”

I shook my head.

“First, they go up and rip everything off. I mean everything. And then they toss it down below. Since the back deck from hell is more dry rot than wood, they will be going up the front. And you’d come home to a barricade of tar paper, rusty nails, shingles and debris.”

“Oh,” I sighed. The coffee was still too hot, but I drank some anyway.

He came to me, backed me up to the counter and kissed me before saying, “You’ll be OK. Six or seven hours in the house with me. It can’t be that bad.”

His broad chest was pressed to my plush tits; his mouth was soft against my lips. He smelled like his shower gel — a blend of sage and citrus — and his recently sipped chai. His hand slid inside my robe and up my inner thigh. I bristled, shivering with a cross between surprise and delight.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he whispered.

“Mm-hmm.” I wasn’t so sure, but I wanted to believe him.

“I promise.”

Warren proceeded to unwrap my robe. He studied my bare flesh like I were a work of art, then he leaned me against the edge of the table and yanked down my panties like he was performing a magic trick.

I laughed and quipped, “Dramatic.”

“But fun!”

He grabbed a chair, sat down before me and eased my legs wider apart.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked in a singsong voice, even though I knew perfectly well what he was angling for. My pussy was thumping wetly in time with my raging pulse.

“Eating,” he said, pushing his head between my thighs. He licked my slit, and heat and want curled through me. My cunt twitched with the delicious stimulation.

I sighed and sagged back onto my elbows. I was splayed out on the table like some decadent meal.

He nuzzled me and then dragged his tongue along the damp terrain of my pussy. Every time his tongue swiped me, I shivered.

I slid my fingers into his hair and pressed his face harder against me. I arched up to meet his fast-flicking tongue. He pushed a finger into me, and the pressure unhinged me. He moved his digit in and out slowly, while increasing the tempo of his licks.

Roof day should come more often, I thought. Then I laughed softly to myself.

My body moved in time with his thrusting finger and suckling mouth, and I soon came. A wave of fluid and quivering spasms wracked me. My fingers clutched his hair, and my breath hitched as I took ragged breaths.

I sat up straighter and reached for Warren, desperate to fuck. But he stilled my hand.

“Later,” he said.

“Oh my God! Later?”

“Yes,” he told me with a grin. “We literally have all day.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. He stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh, look! They’re early.”

I sagged back and blew out a breath, deciding to make us some eggs for breakfast as he dealt with the job foreman.

Later in the morning, I found Warren in his study looking for a book as banging, hammering and sawing went on above us.

“You’re hunting for a book?”

“Yes, for work. What are you doing, my hot-ass wife?”

“Losing my mind. It sounds like they’re trying to break in through the roof.”

“Almost. They are actually peeling it off.”

I hung my head. Chaos, noise, intrusion. Never was good at dealing with those sorts of things.

“It’s just a day. You need to relax.”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall as I said snarkily, “Well, why didn’t you just say so! Now that you’ve told me to relax, surely I will.”

“OK, I see your point. But seriously, maybe I can help. Lie down on the sofa.”

Directly over our heads, something boomed and I jumped.

He cocked his head as if to say “I told you so.”

In response, I sprawled on the old brown sofa in his study. It was discolored and misshapen, but so extremely comfortable we couldn’t bear to get rid of it.

I spread myself out and tried to ignore my galloping heart.

He took my foot in his hands and started to massage it. I just about melted. The sensations he sparked shot up my legs and went straight to my crotch. Pleasure pooled in my belly and spread up into my chest. My nipples spiked as he worked my foot with strong, sure hands. Relaxed and limp, I was nearly drooling. Then he took the other foot and repeated the process.

“Feeling better?”

Something else banged above us, and I didn’t even react.

“Better,” I said softly.

His fingers skated up the inside of my thigh as he knelt over me. He delivered long sweeping strokes, flirting with the upper edge of my leg. He repeated his teasing touches along the other thigh. Despite the banging and shouting above us, I felt as though I was made of Jell-O.

Then his fingers traced the crux of my thighs, where my legs meet my pussy. He stroked my mound through my worn leggings and skimpy panties. He found my clit through the threadbare fabric, and a shudder passed through me. He worked me with his thumb until my cunt beat with a pulse of its own.

Warren tugged my leggings and undies down to my knees. He petted my pussy and then gave my clit a small pinch.

I gasped but stayed still, mesmerized by his motions. His finger slid into my drenched cunt, and he teasingly asked, “Are you turned on by this, Madame?”

I giggled, but my laugh was cut off when he pushed his finger deep inside me and pressed his thumb to my clitoris, delivering a dose of bliss.

“Maybe just a little,” I confessed.

He worked my pussy as expertly and methodically as he had my feet and legs. Adding a second finger to the first, he flexed them inside me against my wet, tender walls. I arched up, eyes slamming shut as his thumb pressed my clit again. A steady insistent sensation unwound in me.

“Fuck me,” I said. “Why don’t you want to fuck me?”

He released a dark laugh, and I felt his lips press gently against mine.

“Oh, I do want to fuck you, baby. But I want you to want it so bad you can’t stand it.”

His fingers flexed once more, and my body trembled.

“Mission accomplished!” I cried out.

“Nah. This is just basic horniness.”

Over our heads something banged hard and sudden. I jumped, but only a little. There was muted laughter and cries of “butterfingers” from the roofers.

Despite my flinch, I relaxed again quickly. I was preoccupied with Warren’s fingers in my cunt, which had me so close to coming. His fingers delved even deeper. I could hear them moving noisily in my own wetness. I was positively dripping. He curled his digits, nudging my G-spot, and I moaned with abandon.

He kept moving his fingers with patient perfection, rocking them in and out of me, until I was a mess of trembling woman.

When I came, my pussy clenched around his fingers. My mind stopped, and my heart sped up. I was all about that exquisite release.

He gave me another chaste kiss on the lips and said, “Oh, look. It’s time for lunch!”

He stood and slipped out of the room. I shook my head and let loose a little growl. The man could be infuriating!

I eventually followed him out the door. I was looking out the kitchen window as Warren made our Caesar salad, and I saw someone pass by.

“Warren! We told them no deck! They’re on the deck!”

“The foreman, Trey, talked to me. He promised he’d be careful. Plus, we have a written warning to the company. No liability for us. He wanted to look at the edges and sweep for nails.”

I frowned.

“Baby, it’s fine,” he said. “I talked to him. While you were putting yourself back together.” He winked.

My cheeks grew hot. He was talking about post-fingerbang.

“Now let’s eat our lunch, and then we can talk about your bookshelves.”

“More construction,” I grumbled.

“Do you want a wall of bookshelves or not?”

“I do. But I want them to appear magically. No people in our domain.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly reasonable.”

We ate our lunch, and I watched Trey walk by the kitchen window two more times. If he’d fallen through our rotted deck, I’d have lost it. But he didn’t.

After lunch, Warren said, “Come on. Let’s look at that wall.”

I released a mighty sigh, put my dish in the sink and followed him to the living room. We had a whole wall we wanted to turn into built-in bookshelves. Of course, we’d also need to deal with the deck from hell that was just outside the sliding glass door. All while the price of lumber was sky-high.

“The whole wall, floor to ceiling,” he said, coming up behind me. “For all your books. The ones you read, and the ones you write.”

I had a moment where I wanted to spiral. I had a deadline approaching, and the house was a mess, and men were everywhere banging and —

My train of thought was interrupted when Warren wrapped his big arms around my waist from behind. He hauled me back against him, and I felt the hard length of his cock pressing against my asscrack. He kissed the back of my neck and goose bumps zigzagged up and down my shoulders. My breath caught as his hands cupped my breasts through my thin sweater. His goal seemed to be to drive me bonkers, and he was succeeding.

About that time, the banging sounds had stopped and were replaced by the staccato beat of a nail gun.

Warren pinched my nipples, and the sensation filled my chest and my belly — before sinking lower. Then he asked, “Can you picture the bookcases?”

“I’m trying,” I said softly. “But you keep distracting me.”

“You can do it. Some kind of weathered wood. All your old paperbacks, all your fresh hardbacks, all your cool knickknacks.” He pinched my nipples again, and my cunt responded.

I was fully horny all over again. I wanted him so bad.

His lips tickled my neck, and he kissed my ear. His right hand cupped my mound through my leggings. Then he began to stroke me through the fabric. I heard the pound of footsteps on the old wooden deck. Was Trey going to round the corner and look in the sliding door? If he did, he’d see us. The mere idea heightened everything I was feeling.

Warren’s finger slid along my clitoris, and my pussy let loose a rush of juices. Arousal, excitement, a bit of apprehension. It all mixed into the perfect sexual cocktail.

My husband pushed his hand down into my pants, but not my panties. He repeated the stroking over the thin satin of my undies.

“Even your panties are wet. Do you want me to fuck you, baby? Is that what you want?”

“It’s what I’ve wanted all day!” I said in a cry of strangled frustration.

“But we had people here, and you were tense. Sometimes wanting and waiting is a good diversion. And think about it, they’re nearly done! Just a little bit longer and you can go for a run or we can grab dinner. But in the meantime, we’re here. In the house. Just us. How would you like to pass the time?”

His hand breached my knickers, sliding seductively between the fabric and my flesh. He found the source of my wetness and stroked me directly.

I arched into his touch, relishing it and wanting it so damn much.

I heard more footsteps creaking outside the door. I hummed under my breath, pushed back to feel Warren’s hard-on swelling beneath his jeans and then inched forward to get greater contact with his wriggling fingers. He slid them inside my cunt and played me like his favorite instrument, and when I was even wetter, he shoved my leggings down around my ankles. My panties swiftly followed. 

Warren unzipped his jeans. Of course, he wasn’t wearing any underwear and his cock was ready for action. He banded one arm across my chest, squishing my breasts. I moved to accommodate him, to line us up. Satisfied with how we were situated, he then wrapped his other arm tightly around my waist. I was his captive, trapped in the strength of both his arms encircling me as he thrust his dick into me, deep and steady.

My breath caught, and I hung my head, giving in. I let him hold me how he wanted and let him take control of our fucking. I surrendered to his movements, then I found the rhythm to move with him.

Every one of his thrusts hit the most tender spots inside me. I got so close to coming, so fucking fast.

The noise above was punctuated by a shouted laugh, a stuttering nail gun and the scrape of a ladder against the house.

Warren held me tightly and drove into me repeatedly, lifting me up onto my toes as he fucked me. He nuzzled my neck and my shoulder, dropping butterfly kisses and delivering sharp nips with his teeth.

I sighed, holding on to his arm tightly.

The hand at my waist snaked lower and teased me. His fingers found my clit and gave it gentle strokes.

A shadow fell across the clear slab of glass that was the sliding door.

My breath caught as Trey walked past, slowly waving a magnet to collect discarded nails. He stood right outside the door for a moment, not looking at us, but he lingered there, a looming presence.

My body turned molten, and my arousal flared. But my mouth was silent as I hovered on the edge of orgasm.

“Look how close he is. If he just turns around, he’ll see us,” Warren whispered in my ear.

I gasped again, choking on my own cries as my body bowed with a rush of conflicted pleasure. I was afraid Trey would see, but my inner exhibitionist also wanted his eyes on us. On me.

Warren’s arms gripped me tighter. His body moved faster, delivering short, sharp thrusts from behind as my pussy spasmed, milking his shaft.

My husband let me ride out the final waves of my orgasm, then he pulled out of me. He pushed down on my back. I leaned forward, and my hands searched for the back of the nearby loveseat. I braced myself as he moved in close behind me once more. His breath was harsh and fast as if he’d been running.

Warren grabbed my hips, his fingers biting into my skin as he slid his cock back into my pussy with ease.

“You dirty girl. You wanted him to see. Wanted him to look at the things I do to you.”

Trey moved out of my line of sight, oblivious to his role in our afternoon shenanigans.

Warren gave me a smack on the ass, and I pushed my hand between my thighs. I rubbed my clit in hard, fast circles, desperate to come with my man as my pussy squeezed his shaft. I was eager to eke out at least one more climax.

Warren tickled my back hole with his finger, making me jump and shiver. My reaction triggered a dark, mischievous laugh from my husband. I moaned helplessly, the sound joining the creak of boots outside on the deck.

I clutched the loveseat as my climax hit me fast and hard. I was left reeling from the sweet tightness of my tense muscles and then their inevitable release, which was followed by spasms of ecstasy.

As soon as Warren sensed my orgasm, his tempo increased. He held me tight as he fucked me roughly. I was limp with pleasure and let him use me for his own. I didn’t have to wait long for him to reach his peak. He soon groaned and came. I felt the rush of warmth deep within my pussy as he climaxed and released spurt after spurt of hot cream. His body shook hard against mine.

Trey suddenly appeared and nearly turned toward us. Laughing crazily, we both scrambled to cover up as the man once again disappeared from view.

Not long after that, we had a brand-new roof, and I had a greater appreciation for being trapped at home. I was looking forward to having the deck replaced, and maybe having the front walk redone. Sure, we might once again be stuck indoors for the better part of a day. But I didn’t doubt that we’d find a constructive way to pass the time. In fact, I’d bet on it.