Four years. Sara had counted them all morning the way some people count down to a flight. Four years married to Paul, and she had spent the whole day making the night into something he would remember.

Sara was twenty-eight and had been his since she was twenty-three. Paul was thirty-two and had run their bedroom from the first night they ever shared it. That part had never changed. He held the power and she handed it to him gladly, every time.

She had lit every candle in the bedroom. Twenty-four of them, tea lights and pillars, arranged along the dresser and the nightstands and the floor around the bed. The sheets were the good black ones he liked. She had laid out his favorite whiskey on the dresser with one glass. And she had dressed herself in the red silk robe he had bought her two years ago, the one she knew he could not stop staring at, with nothing underneath it but the matching red thong and a pair of heels.

The plan had been simple. He would come home from work. She would pour him the whiskey. She would let the robe fall open. She would tell him she was his anniversary present and she would sink to her knees like a good wife.

But Sara had learned in four years of marriage that her plans only ever survived until Paul walked through the door.

The front door opened at six forty. She heard his keys hit the bowl. She heard his boots cross the tile. She tied the robe a little tighter and went to meet him at the top of the stairs, because she had planned the reveal for the hallway. Except he was already halfway up, and he stopped three steps below her, and he looked at her for a long moment in the candlelight from the bedroom behind her.

— You did all this for me. — he said. It was not a question.

— Simon anniversary. — she said. — Four years.

— Four years. — he repeated, and his voice dropped. — Come here.

She went to him. He put one hand on the back of her neck and the other at her waist and he kissed her like he had not seen her in a month. His mouth took hers hard, his tongue pushing past her lips, and she opened for him without a thought. That was the rule and it was also the truth of her body. She opened for him.

— Whiskey. — he said against her mouth. — Then you.

— I was going to pour it for you. — she whispered.

— You're going to do what I say. — he said, and he squeezed the back of her neck. — Go stand by the bed. Robe open. Don't touch yourself.

Sara's breath caught. This was the part she loved best, the part where her plan became his. She walked into the bedroom with her heels clicking on the floor and stood at the foot of the bed and untied the robe and let it fall open down the front of her body. The candlelight flickered over her bare skin. The red thong sat low on her hips. Her nipples had already hardened.

Paul poured the whiskey. He drank half of it standing there, watching her, and she could feel his eyes on her like heat. He took off his jacket and dropped it over the chair. He loosened his tie and pulled it off. Then he walked to her and stood in front of her and took the rest of the whiskey and set the glass down.

— Hands behind your back. — he said.

She obeyed. He untied the robe and slid it off her shoulders and it fell to the floor around her heels. He looked at her standing there in nothing but the thong, and he ran one finger from her throat down between her breasts to her navel.

— How long have you been wet for me? — he asked.

— Since this morning. — she said.

— Good. — he said. — Then it won't take long to make you soaked.

He cupped her through the thong and rubbed her slow over the silk, and Sara's head fell back. She was already slick, and the wet spot spread under his fingers fast. He hooked the thong and dragged it down her legs and she stepped out of it, and then she was completely naked in front of him except for the heels.

— Knees. — he said.

She went down on the carpet at the foot of the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off and unbuckled his belt. The sound of the belt coming through the loops made her stomach clench. He pushed his trousers and his briefs down together and stepped out of them, and his cock stood up hard and heavy in front of her face, thick and flushed, the head already glistening.

Sara's mouth watered. She loved his cock. She loved the weight of it and the taste of it and the way it stretched her throat when he decided she was taking all of it.

— Open. — he said.

She opened her mouth. He held the back of her head and fed his cock into her mouth, and she took him deep on the first push, her lips stretched tight around his girth. He groaned low and held her there, his cock filling her mouth, and then he started moving her head himself, setting the rhythm.

He fucked her mouth with long slow strokes at first, letting her taste him, letting her tongue work his underside. Sara hummed around him and drooled down his shaft, and her hands gripped his thighs. He pushed deeper and she swallowed around his head, her throat opening, and he slid another inch in.

— Take all of it. — he said.

She breathed through her nose and let him push until her nose pressed into his groin and his cock was buried to the root in her throat. She gagged softly and swallowed and the muscles of her throat rippled around him. He held her there for a count of five and pulled back out, and she gasped and sucked in air and took him again without being told.

— Good girl. — he murmured, and he picked up the pace.

He fucked her face properly then, his hips driving, his cock sliding deep into her throat on every stroke. Saliva ran down her chin and dripped onto the carpet. Her eyes watered. She kept her mouth open and her throat loose and she took everything he gave her, and he held her head hard and used her mouth the way he wanted, groaning through his teeth.

— You taste so fucking good. — she managed to say when he pulled out to let her breathe.

— Lick me clean. — he said.

She licked the length of his shaft and swirled her tongue around the head and sucked it hard, and he ran his fingers through her hair and watched her.

— On the bed. — he said. — Face down, ass up.

Sara climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees and presented herself to him, her ass high, her pussy wet and open for him. He stood behind her and spread her cheeks with both hands and looked at her, and he ran one thumb from her clit back through her folds.

— So fucking wet. — he said.

He bent down and put his mouth on her. His tongue dragged up through her folds slow and flat, and Sara moaned and pushed back into his face. He licked her open and then he focused on her clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, and then he sucked it into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue.

— Oh god, Paul. — she gasped.

— Don't come. — he said, and he went back to eating her.

He ate her pussy with his whole mouth, his tongue thrusting inside her and then coming back to her clit, his lips sucking her folds. Sara whimpered and gripped the sheets. Her thighs shook. She was dripping down her legs now, and he groaned into her like he was feeding.

He pushed two fingers into her while his tongue worked her clit, and he curled them up and found the spot inside her that made her cry out. He fingered her hard while he sucked her clit, and Sara buried her face in the pillow and screamed into it.

— Paul, please, I'm going to. — she cried.

— I said don't come. — he growled, and he bit her ass cheek lightly and then he pulled his mouth off her.

She was panting and soaked and empty-feeling, and she knew he was going to fill her up.

He positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed the head in. Sara moaned long and low. He was thick, and her pussy had to stretch around him, and she loved the feeling of it. He pushed in another inch, then another, working himself into her with slow steady pressure, and she felt every inch of him.

— Take me. — she whispered.

— You're taking me. — he said, and he drove into her all the way in one hard push.

Sara cried out. His cock filled her completely, stretching her, pressing deep. He held there for a moment, buried to the root, his groin pressed against her ass, and then he pulled back and drove into her again.

He fucked her hard from behind, his hips slapping against her ass, his cock driving deep into her dripping pussy on every stroke. Sara pushed back against him, meeting every thrust, and the bed rocked under them. The candles flickered.

— You feel that? — he growled. — That's your anniversary present.

— Yes. — she gasped. — Yes, harder.

He reached under her and found her clit with his fingers and rubbed it hard while he fucked her. The combination undid her. Her pussy clenched around his cock and she started to come, her body seizing, her moans tearing out of her.

— Coming, I'm coming. — she screamed.

— Come for me. — he ordered, and he drove into her twice more and she shattered.

Her orgasm ripped through her, her pussy pulsing around his cock, her legs shaking. He rode her through it, his cock thick and hard inside her, and when she stopped shaking he pulled out and flipped her onto her back.

— Legs up. — he said.

She lifted her legs and he pushed them back toward her chest and drove his cock back into her in one stroke. Sara moaned and wrapped her legs around his back. He fucked her deep like this, his weight pressing her down, his cock hitting spots inside her she could feel in her stomach.

— Kiss me. — she begged, and he bent down and crushed his mouth to hers and fucked her mouth with his tongue the way he was fucking her pussy with his cock.

He pounded into her and she took it, her nails digging into his back, her pussy dripping around him. She could hear how wet she was, the slick sound of him moving in her filling the room.

— I'm going to come inside you. — he said against her mouth.

— Yes. — she breathed. — Fill me up.

He drove into her hard and fast, his cock swelling, and then he pushed as deep as he could and held there and came. Sara felt his cock throb inside her, pulse after pulse, hot cum flooding her. She moaned and clenched around him and milked him, and he groaned into her mouth and stayed buried in her while he finished.

They lay there tangled, his cock still inside her, her pussy full of his cum. The candles burned around them.

— Simon anniversary. — she whispered.

— We're not done. — he said.

Paul rolled off her and pulled her against his chest, and Sara lay there with his cum leaking out of her onto the black sheets, her body loose and warm. He ran his hand down her back and she melted into him. For a few minutes they just breathed together, and she felt four years of being his in every inch of her skin.

— Get up. — he said finally. — Shower. With me.

She followed him to the bathroom, still wearing only the heels, which she kicked off at the door. He turned the water on hot and pulled her in under it, and the steam rose around them. He washed her himself, his hands soaped and slow over her breasts and her belly and between her legs. Sara leaned against the tile and let him do it. He rinsed her and then he pressed her back against the wet wall and kissed her neck.

— Turn around. — he said.

She turned and put her hands on the tile. He took the soap and worked it over her ass, his thumbs sliding between her cheeks, and she shivered. Then he rinsed his hands and pressed his body against her back, his cock hard again against her ass.

— Spread your legs. — he said.

She spread them. He reached around and rubbed her clit with two fingers while his cock pressed between her cheeks, and Sara moaned into the steam. He was already hard again. Four years and he still came back for more on nights like this.

— You want it again? — he asked, his mouth at her ear.

— Yes. — she said. — Please.

He lifted her. He put one hand under her thigh and hauled her leg up and around his hip, and with his other hand he guided his cock to her pussy and pushed in. Sara cried out, her back arching against the tile. The water ran over them and he fucked her standing up in the shower, his cock driving into her, her pussy gripping him tight.

— Hold on to me. — he ordered, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He held her pinned against the wall with his body and thrust into her hard, water splashing around them, his mouth on her throat. Sara dug her nails into his shoulders and took every thrust, her pussy slick and hot around his cock, the shower steam thick around them.

— God, you feel so good inside me. — she gasped.

— Say it again. — he growled.

— You feel so good inside me. — she said, louder. — Fill me again, Paul, please fill me again.

He groaned and drove into her harder, his hips pistoning, his cock slamming deep. The sound of their bodies and the water filled the bathroom. Sara came hard around him, her pussy clenching and pulsing, her cry echoing off the tile, and he kept fucking her through it.

Then he pulled out and turned her around and pushed her down.

— Knees. — he said.

She went to her knees on the wet tile of the shower. The water ran down over her shoulders and her hair. He stood in front of her and she took his cock into her mouth, deep-throating him again, her throat working him. He held her head and fucked her mouth, water streaming down his chest.

— Look at me. — he said, and she looked up at him with his cock buried in her throat, and his eyes burned into hers.

He pulled out and stroked himself, and he came over her. Hot thick cum hit her lips and her tongue and her chin, and she opened her mouth and took it, swallowing, licking her lips clean. He groaned and ran his thumb over her lower lip and pushed it into her mouth, and she sucked it.

— Beautiful. — he said.

He pulled her up and kissed her hard, tasting himself on her mouth, and she loved that he did. He rinsed them both off and carried her back to the bedroom wrapped in a towel, and they fell into bed together among the guttering candles.

But Paul was not finished. He blew out the candles one row at a time, leaving only two burning on the dresser, and he crawled back into bed and pulled Sara on top of him.

— Ride me. — he said.

She straddled his hips and sank down onto his cock, and she rode him slow, her hands on his chest, her pussy sliding up and down his length. He watched her with heavy eyes, one hand on her hip and the other squeezing her breast. Sara threw her head back and moaned, grinding down on him, taking him as deep as she could.

— Touch yourself. — he said.

She rubbed her clit while she rode him, and he watched her fingers work. She was close again, her body tightening, and he felt it.

— Come on my cock. — he said. — Let me feel it.

She came with a long low cry, her pussy clamping down on him, and he sat up and wrapped his arms around her and held her there and thrust up into her, fucking her through her orgasm. Then he laid her back on the bed and drove into her one final time that night, hard and deep, and he came inside her again, his cock pulsing, filling her pussy with a second load.

Sara lay under him, soaked and shaking and completely his, and he stayed inside her until he softened.

— Simon anniversary, Sara. — he said quietly, and he kissed her forehead.

— Best one yet. — she whispered.

They fell asleep tangled together, her pussy still leaking his cum onto the sheets, his arm heavy across her waist.

In the morning he woke her with his mouth between her legs. She woke to his tongue on her clit and his fingers inside her, and she came before she was fully awake, gasping his name. Then he climbed up her body and slid his morning-hard cock into her still-slick pussy and fucked her slow and deep in the gray morning light, kissing her the whole time.

— Four years down. — he said, driving into her.

— Forever to go. — she said, and she wrapped her legs around him and held on.