"Did I not tell you to remain outside, for the sake of—" Her words echoed against the walls as her gaze shifts onto you, her fists against the polished surface of the desk.
She was ready to yell another plethora of cruel words towards the servants who were insistent on bothering her till no end, but her jaw untensed and eyebrows visibly relaxed at the sight of you.
"Oh, dearest." She speaks with a softer tone, slumped over the edge with a sigh. Your frame carefully approaches her, cautious to not throw more fuel on the fire. Ambessa's tongue runs across her lips to hydrate them.
"Seems like there is something bother you," you spoke with the usual sweetness in your tone. "The servants had me rushed over here." A chuckle escapes your lips at the mere image of how they showed up at your quarters, distressed over Ambessa's inability to calm down.
"You always did have a sixth sense." Ambessa says, a slight exasperated edge. She hook her head, a dry laugh escaping her lips, no humor behind it.
Her demeanor shifted as you got closer to her desk, softening at the sound of your voice and sight of your presence. Her clothes were disheveled, hair was messy, along with the sagging of her broad shoulders.
Exhaustion took over every crevice of her usually stoic face. "Come here, sit with me, dearest." She intended to relax, and she thanked the servants for at least doing one thing right and sending her wife over.
You smiled at her insistence, the granting of permission to come in close like a breath of fresh air. You pick up your step, watching as she sits back in her desk chair.
A small smile graced your lips at the sight of your wife, even if she could have snapped at any moment like a lion at rest. You were getting dolled up once the servants came to fetch you for Ambessa like a chew toy, and you didn't have much time to finish getting ready.
Your figure stood between her legs now, hands on her shoulders as you patiently waited for any further word from Ambessa.
"Sit," she repeats, her deep voice slightly firmer. Her larger hands reach to grip your hips, gently pushing and pull you till you're seated upon her lap.
Her shoulders relaxed at the skin-to-skin contact, muscles untensing with a sigh. Ambessa's arms loosely wrap around your frame, legs parting slightly to help you comfortably settle upon her thigh.
Your hands responded in kind, grabbing her hand gently and pecking from her finger tips, down her knuckles, and to her wrist. It was a silent, intimate moment between you and your wife.
Your eyes shut gently, tenderly allowing the embrace between you and your wife to take place. It wasn't a stressful day for you, but truthfully, it never was.
Ambessa had ensured your life was easygoing, breakfast in bed to reading all day. The least you could do for her was give her time with you to calm down.
"Mmph," the warm and nearly inaudible noise left her full lips, enjoying the attention you peppering kisses across her skin. Her head rested further against you, burying her nose the crook of your neck and inhaling the subtle scent.
Teasingly slow, her hands slip under the hem of your dress. She slips them further to feel the warm and supple skin of your thumb. As she begins to rub gentle, soothing circle against the flesh.
You smile, your grip on her hand released. Instesd, you tangled your fingers in her hair. You accepted her touch and carressing, feet swinging off her lap.
Gently, you press a balmy kiss against her cheek, pink lipstick mark coating the small area now. She didn't notice, but you chuckled internally. Your fingertip now traced the kissy mark, feeling her hands everywhere.
"You look as beautiful as a painting perched on my lap here, dearest." She speaks as her nose nuzzles against your jawline. A soft grumble left her mouth while her calloused hands traced the expanse of your thighs.
She hiked up your dress, her noises raspy and tired yet hungry.
Your fingertips continued to trace, now on her bulging muscles that can be seen from under her clothes. "Becoming a romantic the moment the exhaustion gets to you?" It was only a teasing jab, you appreciated her kind words.
It was also far from the truth. Even if she didn't express her romance through words, the worship and praise you'd receive physically was enough to create a show for it.
"I'm perfectly lucid," she retorts, a small smirk crossing her lips. "Can't a woman compliment her wife without any ulterior motives?"
Her hands were now located on your ass, squeezing and rubbing the malleable skin beneath her fingers. Her warm, chapped lips find purchase upon your shoulder blade, grazing the skin.
Throaty moans left you as your arched your back slightly. Her hand wandering towards your cunt made it harder to focus on trying to be enticing.
Now, rather than focusing on her, she was making it about you. Somehow, she managed to always flip the tables on you, making you a dumb mess on her lap sooner or later.
She traced your lace panties, breathes escaping your mouth not nearly as quick enough. Your lips continued to stay parted, hands tugging at her hair with ease.
"'Bessa," you murmured, slightly muffled by the long sigh you took.
“Mmm,” her voice is low, and a guttural sound that vibrates through her chest. Her touch becomes more firm, and you can almost feel the callouses on her palm as she strokes over your clothed flesh.
"Use your words for me, sweetheart.”
You nod desperately, "Fucking touch me, 'Bessa. Please." You weren't thinking straight or ethically any longer, willing to say anything so she'd make you feel good.
Your reactions presented your desire for her, sweet little noises and squirming around on her lap. She didn't mind the fisting of her hair, truthfully she hardly even noticed when you hit her shoulder at an attempt to silence yourself.
“Good, dearest," she croons, the praise sounding almost condescending as she pulls you close. She holds your chin, her fingers gripping you almost forcefully as she tugs you so you’re facing her.
Her eyes, still tired and dark, meet yours, and without a word she pushes her knee between your thighs, and drags it against you. A silent demand, a command. Wanting you to work for it.
You moan in despair, but nonetheless start dragging your clothed cunt against her knee to satisfy your needs for a temporary moment.
You'd need assistance eventually, but for now staring at her pretty face and grinding on her tensing muscles would make do.
Your noises grew louder and so did her smugness, her hands starting to gently guide you rocking against her knee.
Her desires started testing her restraint, the need to snake a hand between your thighs and enter you smoothly from all your slick.
To distract herself from her own hunger, her hands now cup your face, and it’s only a moment longer until she’s pressing her lips to your own in a heated, almost desperate kiss. Despite her fatigue, her kisses hold a certain hunger and fervor that only she can display so quickly.
Her knee remains between your thighs, pushing with an amount of heat that only increases with every motion. Each and every gasp and whine that escapes your lips, only adding to the hunger.
You kept riding her thigh, grinding as you let the sloppy kiss grow deeper. You tried to put on your best performance in hopes she'd give up and fuck you straight already.
Your hips started stuttering, movements becoming messier as you needed a release that her thigh alone couldn't get for you. Normally, you'd beg for more, but the most you could do is break the kiss with a string of saliva and stare at her like a bitch in heat.
Her last thread of self-control snapped, slithering her hand under your lace panties and parting your folds. This suddenness caused you to wrap both arms around her neck, clinging like a vice.
She felt the arousal for a moment before plunging a finger in, feeling the velvety, gummy walls. She let your adjust and swirl the finger inside before adding another one, the wetness sufficient to fit both.
She stretched you out perfectly, curling softly into your g-spot. The slow movements made you more needy, bucking your lips down onto her hand, encouraging her to curl her digits quicker.
The way her fingers rammed into your g-spot made you dumber and dumber, nothing but her name and moans leaving your mouth like a chanted prayer.
Then she pumped her fingers in and out, your fingernails digging into her shoulder, surely leaving marks. A white ring coated her fingers every time she thrusted them in and out, signaling how close you were to cumming on her fingers.
Ambessa's "Come on, dearest. You're such a good girl, cum for me, make me happy." was all you need to wet her fingers further with your orgasm.
Slowly helping you ride your high, she pulled the fingers out and located them inside your mouth, allowing you to lick and suckle till they're freshly cleaned with your own saliva.
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