Handle the Heat

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(Copyright Jordyn White 2018. All rights reserved.
Do not share or copy without written permission.)



My wife knows how to throw a fucking party and that’s the truth. Everyone puts out chips and salsa, but she has tiered platters with squares of cheese topped with almonds and dried cranberries, cut-up fruit arranged to look like works of art, and hands-down the best spinach artichoke dip on the planet.

That woman of mine brings a whole other element, which is one of the many reasons why I love her. Sometimes I don’t know how I missed her being under my nose the entire time. She’s a sexy goddess, clever, confident, witty, and the most loyal woman I know. If you can get on her good side, she’ll do anything for you. And somehow, I got lucky. I am solidly on her good side.

Which makes her extra fun to tease.

Now, I’m not an idiot. I know when teasing is something that will make her legit mad and when teasing is something that will make her interested. It’s all about timing, boys.

We cleaned the house together. We prepared the food together. We got everything ready for this party we’re throwing, together. Not until it’s all set and guests could walk in the door any moment without giving her stress do I decide to distract her.

Because there’s nothing more fun than distracting my woman.



Hands on my hips, I survey the spread laid out on the kitchen island, making sure everything is in order. Plates and napkins, check. Serving utensils for all of our goodies, check. Chilled drinks, check. Have no idea why I think it’s so fun to throw parties, but I do. It must be the quarter Italian in me. I love feeding people. It makes me happy.

Plus, this is the first time the girls and their guys have come over in a while. And the first time Jack and I have hosted as a married couple.

Sometimes I still can’t believe he’s my husband. I can’t believe I’m married at all. This definitely wasn’t in the game plan, but I’ve never regretted changing course. He once promised to make me happy every day, and I can honestly say he does. He makes me feel like the center of his universe.

“I think we’re finally ready,” I say. Jack responds by squeezing my ass and swiping a piece of sausage at the same time.

“That was talented.”

“My two favorite things. I had a tough time choosing.”

I give him a wry look and cross my arms. “You had a tough time choosing between a piece of sausage and your wife?”

“You’re right.” He grabs another sausage and strokes it lovingly. “I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

I grin at him. I love the way we play. “You’d better enjoy feeling that thing up, because it’s the only thing you’re feeling up tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“That’s right, buddy.”

He pops the sausage into his mouth and licks his fingers, giving me a heated gaze that my body immediately responds to.

Hey, I can’t help it. I mean, come on. Look at that sexy husband of mine.

“Is that a challenge?” he asks.

“Yep. No hot mama lovin’ for you.”

“Hmmm,” he says, sliding his strong hand across my lower back, over the curve of my hip, and down the front of my thigh. His warm body comes softly against mine.

“Oh, no you don’t. People will be here soon.”

“All right.” He slips behind me, sliding both hands along the front of my thighs. “No problem.”

I’m pinned between Jack and the counter, which isn’t a bad place to be, let me tell you. Nevertheless. “Behave, mister.”

His fingers trace lightly down one side of my neck. A shiver ripples over my bare skin.

“I’m not going to fall for—”

I stop talking, because Jack’s lips are at the base of my neck, right in the spot that makes me soft in the knees, soft in the spine, and soft in general.


I cry foul. He knows exactly how to touch me to get my body to react. “Jack…”

“Hmmm?” He says innocently, his tongue playing on my skin as he sucks me gently into his mouth. I melt against his firm chest, his arm supporting me around the waist. His other hand sneaks under my shirt and cups my breast. He gives my nipple a gentle pinch.

My thighs clench. How long before people get here?

He undoes the top button of my jeans. Single-handed. Because Jack is talented like that. The zipper slides down of its own accord as he slips his broad hand down my front, under my panties.

Okay, game on.

Staying in his arms, I turn to face him. Breathing heavy.

He claims my mouth, giving me the slight spicy taste of sausage. His tongue is the master of mine. He digs his fingers into my hair, letting me know that he’s doing the kissing here.

Fine by me, mister.

I’m more than happy to let him. Jack is a masterful kisser. He’s masterful in every department, and I haven’t yet figured out how to keep him from turning me to mush.

One of these days, maybe I’ll try to figure it out. But for now I’m happy to let him turn me into a quivering mass of pleasure, willing to submit to his expert touches. And all the while my heart thump thumping with love.

He’s the one who taught me you can be horny as fuck and crazy in love all the same time. It’s the most amazing feeling in the whole world.

Minutes. That’s all it takes for him to get me worked up so much that I’m ready to say, screw the hors d’oeuvres. Sweep this shit on the floor and take me right here, right now.

Do we have time to go to the bedroom? Actually, the counter might be full but the dining table is free. “All right,” I tug on him, wanting him to take us to the table. “A quick one.”

The doorbell rings.

He steps away from me swiftly, holding my shoulders long enough to steady me so I don’t fall over. He has that mischievous Jack grin again. “Guests are here!”

And off he trots, practically skipping to the door.

That little stinker! He did that on purpose!

He did that just to torture me!

Well, two can play that game.



Over the next several minutes, our guests arrive in quick succession, though Sam is nowhere to be seen. She must have gone to the bathroom or something. Probably fixing her hair. I definitely mussed her hair.

But hey, I only had a few minutes to work with, so I had to pull out all the guns. And I know how much she loves it when I run my hands through her hair, tugging gently at the roots.

I would feel guilty for getting her all worked up like that just to leave her hanging, but I can’t. It was way too fun. I love the way my little firecracker starts to soften, her body molding to mine, her arms claiming me hungrily.

She was turning me on too, like she always does. But unlike her, I knew where I was going with that. I managed to keep a full-blown erection at bay, and instead just have pleasantly plump cock anticipating the payoff after the party tonight.

Do I know how to husband, or what?

Chloe and Grayson arrive first. She’s her usual, bubbly self, her red curls bouncing as she bobs up and down on her heels, telling me about the trip they just booked. “Three whole weeks in Italy, reviewing as much of the cuisine as we can. I can’t wait!”

Their YouTube channel continues to climb the charts. I’m pretty sure they’re spending all their earnings on travel and food, which is what their channel is about and all they seem to want to do anyway. Chloe had a rough time of it for a while there, and it makes me happy to see her thriving. I wasn’t too thrilled with Grayson at first, seeing as how he was secretly in love with Chloe when he was supposed to be Sam’s date.

Back before Sam became my woman, obviously.

But it was all a misunderstanding and worked out in the end. Since Sam wasn’t hurt about it and since he’s turned out to be an amazing husband to Chloe, I forgive him.

Eric and Ashley come with their new CD in hand (piano playing extraordinaires, those two). But as she pops it into my stereo system, I’m starting to really wonder about Sam. Where is she?

Isabella and Shane arrive last. He’s a professor at Hartman college where we all met, and where Isabella discovered a little rule-breaking with a certain professor wasn’t completely beyond her rule-following character.

About this time Sam finally emerges from the back bedroom. She’s wearing a slim, black skirt that stops mid-thigh, and the same off-the-shoulder silky top she was wearing earlier.

My heart does a little flip. Being only two weeks married, I’m sure there are those who would say we’re still in the honeymoon phase. That may be true, but I’m also sure this woman will always be able to make my heart do flips.

“What happened to the jeans?” I ask, subtly giving her sexy rear a pinch.

“What are you talking about?” she replies in her I’m-up-to-no-good voice. “I’ve been wearing this the whole time.”

I slip my hand around her slender waist and lean down to whisper in her ear. “I distinctly remember slipping my hand into your jeans and under your panties.”

She brings her lips to my ear. “Impossible,” she whispers. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

My jaw goes slack and I straighten, looking at her. That’s not the only thing that starting straighten.

She gives me a knowing smile, heads for the oven, opens it, and bends over to check on the ham. My eyes go straight to her pert, little ass, and of course I imagine exactly what she wants me to imagine.

Oh, she is an evil, evil woman, I think with a grin.



I know I’m winning because Jack is going to creative lengths to hide his… uh… length. Lucky for him he’s wearing jeans, so hard or not, that things tucked down against his leg. That means his attempts to cover it with his napkin during dinner were probably sort of successful.

He’s even managing to stay discreet, even though we’re outside now, sitting in chairs relaxing around the fire. He’s having to hold his beer with two hands, his arms placed strategically on his lap so things aren’t so obvious.

I must say, I take particular pride in keeping him going this long. It’s gotta be torture. Which is fair, because he’s torturing me plenty.

Yeah, I sat on his lap, laughing and acting normal while Chloe told us a funny story, all the while putting just the right amount of pressure on his hard cock, which pulsed beneath me.

But he got me back. He managed to slip his fingers along my bare seam when the counter blocked the others from view. He dipped in and I jolted slightly, tightening around him. I was so wet he had to make an excuse to wash his hands after.

It’s been like that all night.

This is easily the longest, most deliciously torturous foreplay we’ve ever had.

And when it’s over, I’m the one coming out on top.



That Sam of mine has been pulling no punches. Not that I have either. She’s enjoying this little game, though. Her latest antic is to bend over right in front of me, under the guise of retrieving another beer for Grayson.

She’s careful to aim that cute little panty-less ass of hers in my direction, enough so she knows I’ll notice, as if I couldn’t anyway, but not so much that everyone else will realize what she’s doing.

But enough is enough. Time for me to be the victor of this little game. I’d bet good money that I only need five minutes alone with her to cross the finish line.

As she hands Grayson his drink, I say, “Honey? Do you know if we have any more of those caramel ice cream sandwiches left?”

There’s three things to know about this question.

First, we’ve already had dessert tonight. A delicious fruit tart that Sam made herself. There’s leftovers, too, so I have no need to ask about the box of ice cream sandwiches we bought last week.

Second, I already know the answer to my question. I know exactly how much ice cream we have in the house, and in exactly which flavors. Because, come on. Ice cream.

In fact, my question should give me away, but it doesn’t. Because I know something about Sam that she doesn’t know about herself. And that’s thing number three.

Sam has never once turned down my request for food. She likes to feed people, but she’s always had what seems like a compulsive need to feed me. I’m pretty sure that that is exactly where my subconscious infatuation with Sam began. This woman gets me.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’ll check.” And away she heads, back into the house and, presumably, toward the deep freezer that’s in the laundry room.

I watch her disappear, and smile. Game on, little girl.

Game. On.



I pull the last caramel ice cream sandwich out of the deep freeze, and hear the door creak open behind me. I lower the lid and turn around. There’s Jack, clicking the door shut behind him and giving me a hot look.

I look at the ice cream. He led me in here so he can torture me in private! “You tricked me.”

“That’s right, baby.” He slowly saunters toward me.

Oh, he thinks he’s so clever. I spin, tuck the ice cream back into the freezer, drop the lid, and hop on top of it triumphantly. “No ice cream for you, mister.”

“Oh, I’m not here for the ice cream.”

He’s practically to me now, and in spite of sitting on the freezer, I’m not remotely cold. In fact, though I’ve been walking around all night without underwear to torment Jack, it’s been tormenting me, too, keeping me in a constant state of arousal and anticipation.

That’s been fueled, of course, by the stolen touches and heated looks Jack’s been tossing me all night.

Kind of like the one he’s giving me right now.

He’s almost within reach, taking his time, keeping me pinned in place with his gaze.

“Then what did you come for?”

“I came to make you cry ‘uncle’. I came to satisfy you.”

I pulse between my legs with anticipation. But I’m not giving in. Oh, no. He’s giving in to me. “You came to satisfy me, or satisfy yourself?”

There’s that sexy Jack grin. “Can’t have one without the other. Satisfying you does satisfy me.”

If I’m going to get the upper hand here, it needs to happen right now. I should just hop down, scurry around him, and shake my ass temptingly before running out the door.

But I don’t. I let him get close enough to hook his hands behind my bare knees, and wrap my legs around his waist, exposing me. I throb as he leans closer, hovering his full lips just inches from mine.

I’m leaning back slightly, but I’ve grabbed his biceps for support, his muscles tight beneath his shirt. I’m keenly aware of being open and bare to him. A hot swoop of longing travels down my core.

I’m starting to question how badly I want to win this contest.

He dips his head and slowly nips along my jawline. Shivers run through me. I close my eyes, biting my lip, and trying not to let him turn me into mush.

When he gets to the crook between my jaw and my ear, he sucks on my skin slightly. Any restraint I’ve had over my body up to now is almost gone. I want him to take me, dive deep, and satisfy this aching need.

All I have to do is say ‘uncle’, then I can have what I want.

But if I can get him to give in, I win and still get what I want.

“That’s not working.” The breathlessness in my voice betrays me.

He continues down my neck. I tilt my head back, giving him room, and tighten my legs slightly against him. But not too much.

I instinctively understand the different ways we can lose this game. He kisses me on the lips, he loses. He touches me down there, he loses.

I grind myself against him, I lose. I ask for it, I lose.

His warm hand slips under my shirt, brushing up my bare side and stroking the side of my breast. His thumb edges under and around my nipple but doesn’t touch it.

Oh yeah. That’s another way he can lose.

Okay, Sam. Time to attack.

But this instruction to myself goes completely unheeded.

I succumb more and more to his hands exploring my body, to his hot kisses along my neck, to his solid legs brushing the bare skin of my inner thighs.

I’m flat out of ideas to torment him back, because all I want to do is grab his cock, which I know has to be thick and hard and busting to get out of those jeans.

But I’m pretty sure greedily stroking his member will cause me to lose the game.

I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, suck on his earlobe, suck at the base of his neck. I know how much he loves this. His muscles harden beneath me, he pulls me in closer, but I’m still not touching him where I long to be. I’m throbbing, squirming, and we’re both breathing harder, pushing each other to our limits.

I rub my hands along his firm chest, teasing his nipples with my thumbs, making him come at me harder, devouring every inch of exposed skin on my neck, and pulling my shirt off my shoulder so he can have at that, too.

“Jack,” I whisper, pleading with him to concede and give me what I want.

“Say it,” he demands, sucking my earlobe into his mouth and making my toes curl. “Say you give.”

“Uh uh…”

I’m tasting him everywhere I can, switching from one side of his neck and jaw to the other, moaning in frustration when our lips come so close to each other but we don’t satisfy the need to join in a kiss.

Under my short skirt, his hands gently press my thighs apart. His thumbs sweep along the sensitive inner skin, coming as close as he can to my folds without losing. I’m open, throbbing, getting too desperate to think straight.

“Say you give,” he says again, slowly straightening and withdrawing his hands.

No, no, no. Get back here.

He starts to unbutton his pants, his impressive erection bulging against his jeans. I drink in the expression on his face. He’s clearly as close to the edge as I am. I squirm.

I shake my head weekly, and whisper, “You give.” But I can’t take my eyes off the outline of his cock.

My Jack can do magnificent things with his cock.

My Jack knows exactly how to get me all worked up, then make good on his implied promises.

My Jack would never build up such intense anticipation without an equally intense payoff at the end.

He slowly dips his hands into his briefs, and I watch him grip himself beneath the fabric, mesmerized and stupid with desire. “Say you give,” he says in a heated, controlled voice that promises it will all be worth it.

Stubborn ox that I am, I don’t say the words, but that’s all the fight I have left. I have no witty retort. No plan of action. Nothing.

Breathing deeply, my mouth slightly parted, I watch as he pulls his thick cock out of his jeans. He’s so hard, his vein is bulging.

“I give!” I claw at his shoulders. “I give. Gimmie it.”

He complies, taking me by the hips and entering me in one swift stroke. Oh, glorious defeat! He’s stretching me hard, giving me no time to adjust to his size, but claiming me over and over.

I’m panting, clutching him, awash with pleasure. He’s bracing one arm behind us, and has the other wrapped around my lower back, giving him leverage.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I say until my yeses are silenced by his mouth on mine. Our tongues war together, diving deep. My heart flutters madly in my chest, acknowledging the depth of my love for him all while he drives my entire body insane with obscene pleasure.

He tilts my hips until his cock is hitting my G spot. Oh God.

Here is the promise being fulfilled. He’s commanding my body, and my body obeys. I’m out of my mind with ecstasy. I clutch at him over and over, tucking against his neck and trying not to scream out and give away to our guests exactly what’s going on in here. I have no idea if I’m succeeding.

“Atta girl,” he says thickly, as I tighten around his ever-hardening cock. “There you go.”

Then I’m over the edge, and he’s right there with me. We come violently together, our bodies almost out of control, off the rails. He’s clutching me so hard to him, and penetrating me so deeply, I couldn’t say where I end and he begins. I willingly succumb to this state of delirium and madness, frenzy and bliss.

When it’s over, we’re resting our foreheads together, trying to catch our breath.

His crooked Jack smile appears, and he chuckles slightly.

“Brag all you want,” I say, still panting. “I’m not complaining.”

He brings one hand up the curve of my neck to cup my jaw. “Did I scratch your itch?”

“As if you don’t know,” I say grinning.

He gives me a slow, loving, deep kiss, that gives my heart as much satisfaction as he just gave my body. God, I love this man so much. How did I ever get so lucky?

He pulls away, then kisses my nose. “Have I ever told you you’re the most amazing wife on the planet?”

I smile because he says some variation of this to me every day. Seriously. Every day, and I never get tired of it. I shake my head ‘no’ in answer, teasing him

He grins and cups my face in both hands. “Well, you are. I love you more than I can stand.”

“And I love your cock.” I bat my eyelashes and sigh dramatically. He laughs, rewarding me for my playfulness.

“That’s all right, baby,” he says as we finally start to come apart and put ourselves back together. “You use and abuse my body all you want.”

We grin at each other. “Do you think they heard us?”

He hesitates to answer, like he’s afraid to tell me.

“Oh no. Was I loud? I was trying to be quiet.”

“You made a valiant effort.”

I groan, my cheeks warming. Oh well. Nothing to do about it now. And I sure as hell am not going to let embarrassment ruin my post-orgasmic bliss. We’ll just have to suck it up.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He puts his arm around my shoulders and leads us to the door. “If they heard us, they’ll just know your husband knows how to satisfy you.”

“And I’ve been so concerned about their knowledge of that.”

Laughing, he reaches for the doorknob, but I put my hand on his, stopping him.

He gives me a questioning look, but I just give him a kiss. Slow and tender, full of all my deepest feelings for him. I pull away, and his face has softened into that look of love I’ve come to cherish.

“I win,” I say, because there’s no other way to describe being the wife of this incredible man.


**The End**


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