“Chill out, Turner. God. We drive in this every day. What’s got you so wound up, anyway? You love it when I run my hands through your hair,” I say agitatedly.

He just lets out a small huff as he rubs his hands up and down his face.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just the last thing I want to do after flying across the damn country is to sit in this damn car. I just want to get you home and get you underneath me.”

He brings his hand over and skims underneath my shorts as he runs his hand along the seam of my panties.

“Open your legs for me, Clove,” he says seductively, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road as the traffic starts to move.

My legs willingly open and he rubs across my aching sex. I long for him to touch me. All my agitation flies out the damn window when I see the hunger in my husband’s eyes. I’ve only been thinking of myself and how much I have missed him, never thinking of the fact that he missed me, too.

“Pull your shorts down and let me see that beautiful cunt of yours,” he demands, and I whip my head around and look at him in shock because he knows I hate that word.

“Turner, why would you say that?” I push my legs back together but he doesn’t remove his hand.

“Shit. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. All I know is that I missed you like fucking crazy and if I don’t touch you soon, I am going to fucking explode over here. Please pull those shorts down and let me touch you,” he whispers.

I have no idea why my sweet, caring husband has been a damn cranky bastard since we left the airport. He rarely ever raises his voice to me, let alone uses the one word in front of me I absolutely despise. That “C” word is about the most degrading word I have ever heard.

Maybe he’s just as irritated about our separation as I am and jet leg is starting to kick in. I don’t know what his problem is. Turner has never been one to hide his feelings about anything, especially with me. I shimmy my shorts and black lace panties down my long legs. Good Lord. For the first time since we bought this fancy vehicle I am thankful for the dark windows as I sit here splayed out naked from the waist down in the middle of the afternoon on a busy interstate in downtown Atlanta. It does give me a little bit of a thrill doing something we have never done before.

“God damn, baby, I am one lucky son of a bitch. That pussy is so damn beautiful.”

I gasp as he cups me completely and he starts running his hand all over the top of my freshly waxed core. “So smooth.” His voice is getting ragged and the pleasure of him rubbing me starts to speed up my heart rate as I close my eyes and squirm lower in my seat. “You missed me, didn’t you my love?”

I know he is talking but I am too caught in up what his hand is doing to my body as he slowly continues to take his fingers and draw small patterns across my skin. I moan as he reaches the petals of my lips. Being teased like this is torture like you would not believe.

“Yes, Turner,” I practically scream as his hand surely but steadily floats its way down to brush across my nether lips. He wastes no time, sliding his fingers up and down and tracing the edges, teasing and causing me to moan and beg him to put his fingers inside.

“Damn, Clove. I can feel how wet you are. You need to get off, babe? Do you want me to plunge my fingers inside this sweet smelling pussy? This car is full of the smell of your arousal. I am so fucking hard over here right now that if I wasn’t in such a big hurry to get you in our bed and pound the ever-loving shit out of you, I would pull over right now and fuck you so hard you would know I have been there every time you walk for the next damn week.”

His deep, throaty words bring me out of the dream I was having of Turner and his magic hands. Before I can say anything about how his dirty talk has me so turned on, he pinches my clit and tugs so hard that the pain actually causes pleasure to run through my entire body. I scream his name but he doesn’t stop the torture at all; he continues to rub me until I know I am drenched.

“You are going to be so much fun to fuck, my receptive wife. Do you like this, Clove?” he questions as he brutally slides his finger inside. I clamp down and wiggle to try and get him to plunge in deeper. I have never been very verbal when we make love and Turner has never touched me like this in our car either, but I quickly toss that aside as my husband starts sliding his finger in and out, getting me wetter than I have been in a very long time.

“Oh, God.” I arch my back and press my hips into his hand harder.

“Hell, yeah. Give me that orgasm, babe. Let me have it all over my finger. I am dying to taste you. You like me finger fucking you and having your sweet smelling pussy all over my fingers?”

“God, yes,” I moan.

“Don’t come for me yet, babe, we’re almost home.”

I barely register what he is saying to me as he continues on with his blissful torture.

All of a sudden I feel the loss of his fingers and I open my eyes as I notice we are pulling into the garage of our two-story Cape Cod style home. Turner cuts the engine and the garage door closes behind us and I look over to him in the semi dark. His hands are gripping the steering wheel and he exhales nosily, turning his head and looking at me with a burning blaze of fire and desire in his eyes.

I squirm in my seat. I have never seen my husband look at me like that before and for some reason, it turns me on. I feel myself becoming even wetter with desire for him to touch me again. As if he knows exactly what I am thinking, he loosens his grip on the steering wheel and gets out of the car. I watch him round the front of the car and like a predator that is ready to kill his prey. He swings my car door open and painfully grabs my legs, swinging them around as he kneels onto the garage floor.

He yanks me straight into his face. Half of my ass is hanging off the seat and my head falls back against the console with a thud. I scream as he throws my legs over his shoulders and buries his tongue deeply inside me.

My back arches and my legs start to shake as he starts out with slow, hard strokes and then speeds up gradually. I grind my aching flesh into his face. He has never gone down on me like this before.

“Oh, Jesus. Turner. God, yes. More!” I pant. I am just on the cusp of coming when he pulls his face off of me.

“You want more, Clove? I’ll give you more. I am going to make you come like you have never come before. Now come all over my fucking face, sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. I am gone when he sticks his tongue back into my opening and swirls it around against my walls. After he licks and sucks me to the best orgasm he has ever given me, he doesn’t stop. He nips at my c lit with his teeth and pulls and releases over and over while he shoves two fingers inside me, curving them upward to hit the spot that has me screaming and begging him to give me the release I so desperately need.

My clit feels like it is turning inside out and my pussy is clenching, desperate to release. I finally do and I don’t even recognize my own voice as I scream my husband’s name so loud, it’s piercing even to my own ears.

I instantly feel his loss as he places my legs down. When I start to become more alert, I open my eyes and gape at the beast of a man who is staring down at my glistening pussy.

He’s observing it as if it’s the first time he has ever seen it. “So beautiful. Christ Almighty, this is all mine. Keep them spread, Clove. I am far from done with you,” he rasps.

He pops open the button of his jeans and unzips them, then pulls them down along with his boxers. His incredible cock pulses, looking even bigger than I remember, and it’s only been a week. I observe every part of his glorious body, taking in every inch of what has got to be the most finely chiseled piece of perfection. My desire is to touch him, but as I reach my hand up to familiarize myself with the sex God standing before me, he takes a small step back, barely out of my reach.