Chapter 82: Mimi IX

A Wife's Power

A/N: I’m toying with my R rating call it scientific curiosity....shrug...

Chapter 82: Mimi IX—A Wife’s Power

"Why didn’t they just have all of you come home last night right after the game?" Michele asked Patrick as he sat, blinking and nodding in the passenger seat. "You look terrible! Did you get any sleep last night?"

Patrick yawned and rubbed his face. "Sure," he said, "I got some sleep."

"Evidently, not much," Michele said.

"Well the flight left at three in the morning, what more do you want? I can’t change that!" Patrick snapped.

"Don’t take that tone with me," Michele said quietly. "I’m not in the mood, grumpy bird. I don’t need two grumbling males in the house at this point."

"Two?" Patrick asked.

"Yes, two," Michele answered. "Jonathan’s moping is on my nerves as well."

"Should I have a talk with him?" Patrick asked.

"No," Michele said quickly. "He will get over it I’m sure."

Michele sighed as she unlocked the front door when they got home. Almost immediately, there were sharp, frantic barks from Gigi.

"Is she always going to be like this?" Patrick moaned.

"Oh stop it," Michele answered as she opened the door. "She’s fine when she’s with me."

As soon as the door was opened and they were in the house, Gigi was jumping on Michele’s legs, panting and wagging her tail. Michele leaned over and rolled the puppy onto her back, rubbing her tummy.

"Fluffbutt," Patrick said.

At the sound of his voice, Gigi hopped to her feet and stared up at Patrick, growling and barking.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Patrick snapped.

Gigi barked again and began to run in circles around his legs.

Michele laughed. "It’s your tone, my love. She thinks you’re challenging her. I don’t think she knows who you are yet, not really."

"Oh," Patrick said and he leaned over holding his hand out.

Gigi took a step back and then looking up at Michele, she hopped forward and sniffed his hand, her ears going down. "Yip!" the puppy went and then she turned around and tore out of the room, her little nails clicking on the tile floor of the kitchen.

Patrick stood up letting out an exhausted, almost pained sounding groan. Michele looked at him; he always looked so tired these days, not like he used to be. That hit he had taken last night had looked terrible, and she doubted that he recovered very well from it. It would be great if someone could convince him to take a break every now and then, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to bring that subject up to him. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "That looked like a heavy hit you took."

Patrick grimaced and then looked at her. "Fine," he said almost testily. "I’m just sore from the plane."

"Alright," Michele said, patting him lightly on his bottom. "Go on to bed then, go on! Are you hungry? I could make you some lunch."

"No," Patrick muttered. "I’m not too hungry... just sleepy. Where’s Jonathan?"

"In bed still, I suppose," Michele said. "He’s just like you my love, sleeps until his stomach wakes him."

Upstairs, Michele glanced into Jonathan’s room where the boy was indeed sprawled on his bed, fast asleep. She quietly closed his door and entered the master bedroom where Patrick was in the process of tossing his jacket onto the floor. Rolling her eyes, Michele leaned over and scooped it up, hanging it over the bedpost and smoothing her hand over it. The suit cost more than the monthly income of some people and he was just tossing it onto the floor.

That’s when she noticed Jana’s pink, plastic covered safety scissors peeking from underneath the bed. The girl had been looking for them before school that morning, and there they were. Michele picked them up and glanced at Patrick again, she looked at his hair. Enough was enough!

Holding back a smile and walking on her toes, Michele crept up behind him with the scissors, all she would need to do is just snip off a chunk of it. There was no way he would walk around with tattered hair; he would have to get the rest of it cut. She moistened her lips with her tongue and reached forward....

"Got you!" Patrick snapped causing Michele to stifle a cry as he whirled around and snatched her wrists in his hand. The scissors slipped out of her hand and bounced onto the floor.

"I’m going to do it!" Michele said breathlessly. "You’re not going to stop me!"

Patrick narrowed his eyes. "Oh really?" he said, transferring her wrists into one of his hands and loosening the rest of his dark, silk tie with the other. He wasn’t gripping her that tightly at all, she could tell. She knew she could slip away from him whenever she wished.

She then thought of what he wasn’t telling her, what he thought she didn’t know. Pascal had told her about the prostitute, she wondered if he was planning on it. Bruises on her plump arms, on her throat, Pascal had said, but now he was holding her just enough to keep her still, not even enough to bruise. There was a beast in him that scared her, but sometimes, she loved catching a glimpse of it.

"Really," Michele answered. "You can’t keep alert all the time, I will have my way with this."

Patrick raised his eyebrows and smiled. "And how can you if I you cannot move your hands?"

Michele frowned. "What?"

Her mouth opened a bit, and her pulse began to quicken as Patrick slipped the tie off his neck and began to wrap it tightly around her wrists. She interlaced her fingers together and smiled. "Oooh please don’t hurt me," she pouted. "I was only joking." Keeping her gaze directly into his, Michele giggled and slid down to her knees in front of him, leaning against the hardened muscles of his thigh and she sighed. Patrick still had a hold of her hands as he kneeled down in front of her.

"Then behave," he grumbled.

"I don’t think I can do that," she whispered as she gently pulled her bound hands out from his grip and she draped them around the back of his neck. "You’ll have to teach me, my love."

"But Jonathan.." Patrick murmured.

"The boy’s asleep," Michele whispered and kissed him quickly on the mouth, "And I have not seen you in a week."

It never took much to convince him, that much Michele had always known, she relaxed backwards against the side of the bed and wrapped her legs around his waist, reveling in the warmth he soaked into her. "How can you refuse this, eh?" she said.

Patrick laughed quietly and leaned over her, his kiss was hot and exciting as he held onto her waist and lifted her onto the bed. Michele rubbed her feet together, kicking off her shoes. She closed her eyes when Patrick slid her hands away from him and she clasped them together against her breast. He fumbled with the clasp on her silk dress slacks and Michele wriggled a bit, sliding up the bed more as he pulled them off. She could hear the soft material landing on the carpet in a pile and then his warm body was in between the bare flesh of her thighs. Already, sweat was beginning to prickle on her skin and as soon as his hand slid up her shirt, under her bra, she cried out.

There was a low grunt from Patrick and he pulled her hands around the back of his neck again and stifled her moan with another kiss. He slid her panties off and it seemed like an eternity to Michele before they were finally discarded and then there it was. She pulled her face away from him, kept her eyes closed, anticipating, she could hear the gorgeous sound of his fly being undone, the buckle of his belt jingling. It was a sound she craved without end.

"Hurry..." she muttered, and before she could finish speaking he pushed into her with an almost tearing force, pausing for a moment while she stifled a louder cry and bit into her lip. The stretching pain he always caused to the delicate muscles inside her body was so intoxicating, and it only increased when he moaned and began to thrust into her, seemingly going deeper and deeper with a slow, almost lazy rhythm. "Oh!" She gasped in a light voice over and over. She desperately wanted to touch him with her fingers and she tugged at the tie still wrapped around her hands. He hadn’t knotted it, the friction of his body, her hands soon loosened it, and as it fell away the voluptuous ache between her legs became too much and Michele moaned, "Patrick!"

He gasped and began to intensify his pace as she shivered with pleasure underneath him and when she went limp; he was still there his hands braced on the bed on each side of her. Michele smiled and relaxed some, enjoying the rapid pace at which he was moving, the way his eyes were closed and his cheeks blushing. She ran her tongue over her lips, began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, and kissed his pink chest underneath. Patrick moaned again as soon as her mouth touched his skin and he began to go harder, and faster, causing the pleasure to build up inside her again. She fell back into the mattress and gnawed on her lip, running her fingers almost shyly up and down his tight forearms until she climaxed again. This time it was more powerful and she wanted to scream, but instead she dug her nails into the skin of his arms, spurring him on.

She was trembling all over again and as it slowed down, she began to see the change in his face, that otherworldly beauty of someone enwrapped in pure pleasure. He shut his eyes tightly, making a noise almost like a scared whine and Michele ran her hand along his stubbled cheek and brushed his soft hair from his face. "Open your eyes!" she whispered. "Please, look at me."

In a long languid moment, his eyes opened and Michele stared into them and then it happened. That beautiful moment, a moment she could see in any man’s eyes, but especially his where the eyes become completely hers. There was vulnerability in the look, almost a begging as if she could control how far their pleasure would go, and they were asking her to keep it endless. That was where a woman’s real power lay, that was where a wife’s power was. Ever since the day Michele had first realized this, she couldn’t get enough of it.

Patrick sighed and slowed his pace down, almost as if he were reluctant to be finishing.

"Mom!"

"Christ!" Patrick hissed as Michele pushed him off her and leaned up on one arm.

"What is it?" Michele called in a bright voice.

At the sound of her voice there was a desperate whining from Gigi in the hallway.

"I’m hungry!" Jonathan said through the closed door.

Michele sighed as Patrick leaned over her and began to kiss her waist, sliding up her blouse a bit. "Then make yourself some breakfast darling."

"But it’s lunchtime!" Jonathan protested. "I want macaroni and cheese!"

"What the..." Patrick began and Michele reached behind her, patting him on the arm to calm him.

"There’s some Kraft Dinners in the kitchen my love," Michele said as cheerfully as she could. There was another long howl from the puppy.

"But I like the way you make it better, I don’t like the box stuff!"

"That’s it," Patrick snapped. "I’m going to..."

"Non," Michele snapped pushing Patrick back down. "Leave him alone, he’s just hungry."

"He’s not a baby!" Patrick said, his eyes flashing angrily, "He just wants..."

"A decent meal!" Michele finished for him. "Some men like food prepared a certain way... don’t they?"

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and fell back on the bed with an angry grunt.

"Mom?" Jonathan asked in a more timid voice through the door.

"Yes, yes," Michele said, getting up off the bed and grabbing her clothes. "In a moment, go on downstairs and put the puppy out, please."

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