WholeAgain Read online

  Whole Again

  Caitlyn Willows

  Hannah Buckner is having an affair—with the shower attachment, the bathtub faucet, her husband's pillow, and anything else she can fit between her thighs. And it's about time her husband knew in vivid detail how she spends her lonely nights.

  Half a world away, Danny Buckner is hoping for cookies, but a whiff of Hannah’s latest letter has a familiar scent that has nothing to do with baking and everything to do with being hot. Better than phone sex and more addictive than chocolate, her letter leaves nothing to the imagination. And Danny has a few details of his own to share.

  Months of foreplay in lust letters that threaten to singe the paper they are written on are teasers for the main event when Hannah’s Marine finally comes home and takes his naughty wife in hand.

  Inside Scoop: Our heroine is the recipient of a little light BDSM. Lucky girl.

  A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Whole Again

  Caitlyn Willows

  Chapter One

  “The spicy scent that lingers long after he’s gone.”

  Hannah Buckner punched off the radio. She didn’t need a stupid ad reminding her of how great her husband’s scent was. It was part of her blood, ingrained in her soul, and she missed it and him more than she could bear. She cranked up the air conditioner, turned one vent toward her face and tried like hell to get the other one pointed toward her hot, damp pussy.

  Another happy high-desert day with temperatures soaring off the charts, physically and emotionally. The last thing she needed was to think about Danny’s scent lingering on her right now. She imagined him nuzzling that extra-sensitive place on her neck just below her ear, kneading it with his lips while his fingers kneaded her ass, or gave it a couple sharp whacks to get her juices flowing.

  She shivered despite the heat. Nipples beaded. Her pussy…

  No, she couldn’t think about that. Later, yes. But not now when her emotions danced on a razor’s edge from work and countless phone calls, emails and visits from other lonely, frustrated wives. It was a wonder she’d gotten any work done.

  Need rippled through her again at the thought of Danny’s strong body pressing hers into the mattress. His weight could crush her. Instead, she felt power in him possessing her. Gloried in the way he took her, yet protected her as well. He knew how to take domination to the very edge and still make her feel safe, hungered for and in charge.

  How such a big man could be so gentle and yet so damn powerful. How such a gentle man could wear her ass out with a good, long spanking and then give her the fucking of her life was a mystery she never wanted to solve. Why try to analyze perfection?

  Another shiver rattled through her. Want clenched every fiber of her being. Her sweat-dampened crotch added more moisture to her panties. The smell of her juices slammed into her nose. Hannah flicked the air to high, unbuttoned the top of her sundress and pulled the skirt up her thighs to get cool. It didn’t help. Her hard clit nudged her panty crotch, begging for that stream of air on it. Not to cool, but to help it come. Tempting, but she couldn’t risk being caught.

  She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and wondered if the light was permanently stuck on red. Her cell phone shuddered and blasted out Love Shack for the tenth time since she’d left work. Another wife calling to complain about whatever. Hannah didn’t mind up to a point, but the constant bitching was ridiculous. Hello…her husband was deployed too. She was lonely, sad and frightened too.

  And horny. Don’t forget horny.

  Hannah pressed her lips tight. No, she wouldn’t forget that. But it went way beyond just being horny. How could she explain to anyone the sheer perfection of being with Danny? Who would listen to how she still hadn’t washed the pillowcase he’d last slept on three months ago? Who would understand how she clutched his pillow to her breasts each night and inhaled the scent growing more elusive with every tick of the clock? Of how she’d sometimes wedge that same pillow between her thighs and pretend it was his head, his lips wandering over her pussy, his tongue tracing every fold, sucking her clitoris until the orgasm rolled out of her?

  She pressed her fingers to her aching clit and gave it a rub. Eyes locked open, Hannah slid one finger under the elastic leg and circled the slippery pebble of flesh. God, that felt good. She could come right here, right now. Who’d know? She could be discreet. Danny got her off all the time in the car. Ordering her to peel her panties down, spread her legs and lift her skirts. His hands would dive right in. Sometimes he’d order her to bring a dildo, tell her to plunge it deep, turn it on and leave it there. He’d make her come at his leisure, her pleasure. Often he’d tell her to add a butt plug.

  And if she disobeyed—which she did on occasion just because the punishment felt so damn good—Danny wasn’t above pulling off to the side of the road, having her roll to her stomach and paddling her ass. Of course, he always found a somewhat secluded spot for discipline, but the added thrill of them being discovered still cranked things up to heat level warp ten. If it was night, he might bend her over the trunk to paddle her ass and then fuck her.

  Her clit throbbed with the clench of her pussy muscles. Hannah plunged her finger into the dripping well of her cunt. Just a little more and—

  The blast of the car horn behind her snapped Hannah from her sweet daydream. She waved an apology and turned onto the main street.

  Who would listen to her talk about how much she missed her husband? No one, because her feelings for Danny were so complex, so inherently supreme, it was impossible to put into words. Some things were simply too sweet to savor with anyone but the one person who knew exactly how she felt.

  Her cell phone rang yet again. Hannah dug it from her purse and punched it off. There was only one person she wanted to talk to and he was half a world away. Anyone else could wait until tomorrow when she was at work and couldn’t escape them.

  God, if she heard one more complaint she’d explode! What was the matter with these women? They bitched all day, screamed at their kids constantly, and the letters they sent to these poor Marines. As if the guys didn’t have enough to worry about. As if they could do anything about the situation except survive.

  Yes, they were all under pressure here, but where was the happy medium? She’d tried to tell her fellow wives to keep occupied and roll with it. That conversation went in one ear and out the other. Hannah was fairly certain her advice had never actually gone in any ears. These wives didn’t want solutions. They wanted to complain.

  She’d tried organizing potlucks, movie dates, even offered babysitting. Tried to be upbeat, supportive, positive and all that crap. And still all the others wanted to do was complain. Where was the love, the devotion?

  “Screw it.”

  She had a half bottle of merlot and a steak waiting for her at home. Maybe she’d even find a good movie on pay-per-view. That would pass the hours. Then she’d shower, crawl into that big bed, pull Danny’s pillow beside her and write her nightly letter to him. It was always the perfect way to end the day. As if he were right with her, sharing it all. She’d work their favorite dildo into her and come a few times while pretending it was Danny.

  The thought made her smile and helped chase the day’s aggravations away. She pulled up to the line of mailboxes at the end of her street in a much better mood than when she’d left work. Finding a letter from Danny right on top of the junk mail set her heart racing. Hannah tore it open in the car, heart pounding at the connection to him.

  Hey, hot stuff! (And there’s no one hotter than you, baby.)

  Don’t have a lot of time to write today. Not much news I can share either. Love your daily letters. Makes me feel like I’m home. Of course, I’m still getting them in stacks instead of on
e a day. Poor mail clerk gets a little tired of me hounding him for mail. Keeps wanting to know why we can’t do email like “normal” people. Little does he realize how personal written letters are to us. I think the other guys are actually pissed because their wives don’t write so much. Must be the smile on my face that makes them jealous. We all get the goodie boxes, though, and share. Thanks for the new toothbrushes. We split them up. We still stink, but at least we have minty-fresh breath…sometimes (wink). Miss you bunches. Miss you so much I can barely stand it. I just want to wrap myself around you and shut out the world.

  Love, love, love you,

  Danny

  Hannah clutched the letter to her chest. “I just want to wrap myself around you and shut out the world, honey.”

  She pressed the paper to her nose, trying to catch a whiff of Danny. It’d been through too many hands to retain his scent. Reading it again, she traced her finger over the indentations. Bold strokes, no hesitation, firm, commanding. Another ripple wiggled down her spine and nestled in her crotch.

  Blinking back tears, she shook her head clear and looped her purse and tote bag over her forearm. A twist of the key killed the engine as she shouldered open the car door. Desert breeze slithered up her sundress, instantly drying everything in its path. Hannah pitied the poor newcomers who still insisted on wearing heels and hose to work. She’d give them one summer before they downgraded to cool sundresses and sandals. Common sense won out over fashion statements every time.

  She twisted the drip irrigation system on the rose bushes. Maybe she’d spend some time in the garden rather than parked in front of the TV. Peace settled around her. Then she opened her front door and saw the message light blinking on their answering machine. Twenty-nine messages.

  One for every palm tree this town got its name from.

  The irony didn’t chase away her dread. The temptation to delete them overwhelmed her. Worry that one of them might be important made her press the Play button.

  “You won’t believe what that motherf—”

  Hannah stabbed delete. She’d heard enough bitching for one day. She tossed her purse and bag onto the couch, the mail on the coffee table and strode toward the kitchen while one complaint after the other blasted from the machine—some tearful, some raging, some with kids screaming in the background. In other words, a continuation of her day.

  I should have checked the caller ID log first.

  Opting for chilled white zinfandel over the merlot, she uncorked the bottle, filled her biggest wineglass—Danny called it her wine tumbler—and walked back to the living room with bottle and glass. A press of the delete key rid her of all messages. For extra measure, Hannah turned the ringer off. Clutching Danny’s letter once more, she sank into the comfort of the long sofa, kicked off her shoes and stretched out. Often he’d sit on the other end and they’d tuck their legs against each other’s. The thought made her smile and cranked up her juices once more. A sip of wine did little to cool the heat bathing her body. She tucked the cold wine bottle between her thighs.

  “Bet you could cool me down real quick,” she told the letter. Then she laughed. “No, we’d only make more heat.”

  There were times they’d barely get across the threshold before Danny had her bent over the sofa, his fingers working her clit as he pounded his cock into her body. Their version of stress relief—hot, hard and quick. Then they’d spill the details of their day to each other over dinner.

  “Screw it. He’ll just get two letters today, or maybe one really long one.”

  Hannah snagged her purse with her bare toe and pulled it up. Pen and notepad were within easy grasp. Another sip of wine, a click of the pen…

  Hi honey,

  Boy, you wouldn’t believe the day I had. If I have to listen to one more person bitch—

  Her hand froze on the word. Thoughts screeched to a halt. Wasn’t that exactly what she was doing to him—bitching? He got it from all sides every day too. It wasn’t like being at home where they could go at each other like over-caffeinated jackrabbits. Where was the stress relief for either of them? What did she really want him to know? What did he really want to hear?

  Hannah wadded the page and tossed it aside. She drummed the pen against her knee, took another sip of wine, squeezed her thighs around the bottle, then smiled.

  My heart, my love, my soul mate,

  How many days has it been since I uttered those words to you? A minute seems too long without you hearing them. I love when you’re clutched in my arms, your cock in so deep it’s kissing the back of my bellybutton. It softens slowly as sweat bathes us in the afterglow of pure sex, pure love, soulmating. How sorry I feel for those who have never experienced such a thing.

  Being apart from each other is painful, lonely, yet thinking of the reunion carries me through, enriches my daydreams, lulls me to sleep each night after I make myself come thinking of you. The toys are a poor substitute for you, and my skill using them on myself will never surpass your subtle touch. No one knows my body better than the man for whom it was destined.

  You already know how I occupy my days while you’re away. Care for a reminder of how I spend my nights? I know it’s naughty of me, but I just can’t help myself.

  When the day is done, I slowly undress for my shower, or bath, whatever mood strikes me. The material slithering off my skin is foreplay for what is to…come. As you know, sometimes I like to lie in the tub with my legs stretched on either side of the faucet while the water falls relentlessly over my clitoris. Remember how you love to stand over me when I do that? How swollen your cock gets with every stroke you beat it? I love to watch that first bead of pre-cum glisten on the tip. I love to suck it between my lips. Mmmm…nectar.

  There are times when I like to hook up the shower massage. I run it all over my body, nice and slow. I pretend it’s your fingers exploring me, building me up and up. The spray hardens my nipples and I crave your teeth grazing them. I turn the pressure low and rake the nozzle head over the tips. It’s a pale second to your mouth, but it will do in a pinch. Oh! Pinch! You know how that makes me gasp when you pinch my nipples into long nubs. Remember when you did that to my clit? How quickly I started to come? How you made me wait just a little while longer and used your tongue to bring me over the edge?

  Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so distracted. Here I am being so very, very bad by telling you how I pass the nights.

  Perhaps I’ve overstepped myself. Perhaps I need a little reminder of… Mmm, my bottom is hot just thinking about it. (You know I’m biting my lower lip now in anticipation.)

  Hannah was too. Arousal wicked into her panties. Her clitoris nudged the bottle, begging for a little of the action she bragged about in the letter. Her nipples felt like stones inside her bra. She was tempted to see if the bottle would fit inside her cunt. Desperate times, desperate measures.

  She closed her eyes and let the feelings absorb her. Fingers wandered to her breast and toyed with the hard little bead. Her pussy screamed in protest. She pulled the bottle away, widened her thighs and traced her finger under her panty leg. God, she was wet! She dipped her finger into the juices, drew it out and wiped it on the edge of the paper.

  That would get his motor running. He’d be leaking some juices of his own once he caught a whiff. If the scent lasted that long.

  She focused on the letter once more and smiled.

  Oops…I had to pause for a moment and indulge myself a little. Can you smell me? My cream kissed this letter. Oh dear, getting sidetracked again. I really do need to be taken in hand, don’t I? Back to my nights…

  Naturally, my bathroom play makes me come. Somehow it doesn’t seem enough to satisfy me once I crawl into our big bed. I clutch your pillow to me and inhale your scent. Yes, it’s true. I haven’t washed your pillowcase since you left. By now it probably smells more like me than you, but I can dream, can’t I? I press it to my breasts and rub them into it as I imagine your head—or your rock-hard erection—nestled between them. I know how
you love to fuck my breasts. How you love the lash of my tongue over the head of your penis as you thrust between the valley of them. Catch me if you can, it seems to say. I can see that dare in your gleaming eyes. And, oh how you love it when my lips close over the crown. The rapture on your face. The shudder that ripples down your spine. Excuse me a moment while I indulge again.

  Hannah crossed her legs and squeezed her thighs tight to keep her body in check. She wanted to come right now. That’s how Danny was going to feel when he got the letter. He’d devour every word. He’d crave the taste of her, the feel of her. He wouldn’t have the leisure of coming then. He’d have to wait until he was done reading and somehow find alone time. She’d wait until the end of the letter too. It was always the best when they came at the same time. He’d know she waited for him. Hannah had every intention of making him fully aware of that.

  Often I’ll wedge the pillow between my thighs. I love how it feels there. It’s especially nice when our favorite play toy fills my pussy. I put it on low. It spreads me wide and hard, another shadow of what your cock can do. I ride the pillow slowly, knowing that even if the miles separate us, you are still the master of my body. Sometimes I take the smaller vibrator and slide it into my ass. I force myself to prolong the pleasure, waiting, waiting, waiting for release. You know how quickly certain things make me come. I can be so impatient, can’t I? I know what happens to young women who come too quickly—they have to do it all over again until they get the moment right. Very impatient ladies find themselves over their lover’s lap. Oh the thrill of that thought! I could really use a thorough spanking right now. Your belt setting fire to my ass while my pussy drips onto your thigh and my clit fights to rub against you. Talk about things that make me come quickly.

  When I’m finally sated at night, I’ll lie naked in bed and let exhaustion pull me to sleep. Your pillow remains against me. A crazy ménage, isn’t it? Me, your pillow and the bathtub.