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No Sleep Tonight

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Sadie's lashes looked darker at night.

Maybe it was because they curled against her pale cheek, or because he was used to them fluttering and framing her dark eyes. Most likely, though, he'd been staring at her too long in the darkness and couldn't see colour anymore. He didn't mind; when he couldn't sleep, he calmed himself down by looking at beautiful things. Sadie counted as one of them.

Whiskey in the tumbler was all well and good, but he couldn’t gaze down at her and sip without losing some of the precious drink. It might drip onto her fine neck, or worse, down her cleavage…worse because if she were awake, she might let him lick it off, and asleep she couldn’t give any such permission. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn’t mind Sadie having insomnia with him for one night.

He leant over her, returning the whiskey glass to her nightstand, and sighed as he took up his book again. It was some series of novels collected in too fine a binding for the quality of the writing, about a bunch of English children who went on adventures, proved the supernatural didn’t exist, and were startlingly racist. It had been Sadie’s when she was a child, and since the dream incident he’d tried to become a little more au fait with her cultural touchstones. If they ever encountered these brats, though, he’d wager even Sadie wouldn’t want to help.

He read to the end of chapter seven of this particular tale, in which five had a picnic and the two girls couldn’t do anything the boys could do because they were ‘just girls’, and then decided to try sleep again. Frank lay the book down carefully, so as not to wake his wife, and settled down next to her again.

“Frank, darling, your moustache is tickling me.”

Sadie’s voice was low, amused, and not at all sleepy. His eyes sprang open to see her giggling slightly at him.

“Sadie! How long have you been awake?”

“Darling, every time I wanted to say I was, you’d make some cutting comment about George or Julian and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing!” Grinning, she rose up on an elbow. “Do forgive your Sadie, dear, but your indignation was a delight to listen to.”

“Well, love, I think I’m rather cross with you,” Frank said before he kissed her cheek to prove himself a liar. “I’ve been up since we retired to bed, tossing and turning…say, I didn’t happen to wake you, did I?”

“Wake me? Oh, no, darling—“ Sadie laughed, stroking his shoulder delicately. “I’d just finished a dream and was perhaps closer to the surface of waking than I should have been.”

“This dream.” Frank stretched out, putting his hands behind his head and glancing at the clock to their right. “Was it your usual? Reporter and editor?”

Sadie could see his smile had turned slightly wicked, and tilted her head to the side. Her hair rippled down her neck, glossy and dark like a ribbon of melted chocolate, and she tapped her filed nails against the dark purple sheets.

“It may have put me in a good mood, Frankenstein.” Sadie made her voice lower, and was rewarded as Frank groaned and momentarily closed his eyes.

“Whereas,” he eventually replied, snatching up her hand. “I’m in a terrible mood because I couldn’t sleep. Simply awful. And the knowledge that you were there, laughing at my discomfort—oh Sadie, that makes me truly angry.” He pressed a kiss to her palm and then rolled over on top of her, to her delighted smirk.

“How angry, Frank?” she cooed, and lifted her hands up to push through his hair. He allowed it for a few moments, then firmly took her wrists and held them above her head. It was a matter of seconds to snap her in the handcuffs connected to the headboard, though it was odd not being the one in them for once.

“That angry,” he told her, and then added “Is that too tight, love?”

“Just right, Frankenstein,” she assured him, and then gasped in mock-outrage as he reached for the laces on her nightgown. Sadie’s nightgowns were always prodigiously expensive, made of silks, satins and lace, and, in Frank’s opinion, were worth every penny she paid for them. This particular one—a wine-red colour with mock-corset lacing—was one of his favourites, so he wouldn’t tear it. Sadie had a special drawer for clothes he was permitted to literally rip off her. It was always a happy day when she suggested they open that particular part of the armoire.

“I was having a rather wonderful daydream earlier, love,” Frank told her as he palmed a breast through the gown. As her colour rose, and she bit her lower lip, he continued. “What would happen if I drenched you in our favourite drink, do you think?”

“That would almost be a—a waste,” Sadie breathed as Frank pulled away the two upper portions of her nightgown. Her hands opened and closed reflexively as his cool fingers pinched her nipples tightly, and the noise she made was almost a moan.

“Never a waste with you, love,” he said with a grin, and leant up to kiss her. Her lips were filled with a searing intensity, making him truly wonder about what kind of dream it had been. When she became a little too aggressive, he bit her lower lip slowly to remind her who was in charge. Sadie withdrew, looking a little sheepish.

“Well?” he prompted when she didn’t say anything. It was difficult to hide a grin when his wife squirmed in her restraints, the faint half-light from a corner lamp showing him more of her skin than he should be able to see at this time of night.

“Sorry,” Sadie eventually whispered, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of red. When Frank held up a finger, she reddened further. “Oh, Frank darling, don’t make me say it…”

“My terrible flaw is that I love hearing it from you,” he said. Apparently repeating her words from a few nights ago—when he’d been in a prone position and she’d been all stiletto heels and dark red lipstick—worked, because she took a deep breath.

“Sorry—sir,” Sadie said in one short exhalation, and was rewarded with Frank kissing her neck and his hand pulling up her hem. His hands were rapidly warming under the sheets, stroking her upper thighs and letting his fingertips brush through the small triangle of dark curls between her legs. His lips moved to her breasts and he nipped at her tender skin, creating little sparks of pleasure for her. His lips were hot through the fabric of her nightgown, even ruched up around her waist as it was. Frank’s head disappeared below the sheets and she felt his quick kisses linger over her stomach. Without a warning, his fingers came to stroke her clit.

It was agonisingly slow, just the way she liked it. The handcuffs rattled against the iron of the headboard as she pulled and keened, as Frank’s fingertips wound her tighter and tighter. The feeling was only intensified when he started to kiss her hip—and then down—and put his thumb on her clit as he pushed a finger inside her. Sadie rocked her hips, wanting more and not getting it. It was decidedly torturous, and she would thank him for that later.

“Darling, oh, please…” she panted. “Another—please—I just—oh!”

He’d listened, but he hadn’t obeyed her pleas. Instead, the wonderful man had put his mouth to her clit, and was now playing with his tongue around her sensitive lips. His breath, hot and heavy, was only adding to the delicious feeling inside her solar plexus, the feeling that was like wanting to shatter into a thousand breathless pieces.
It was when he began to spell his name with his tongue movements that she came, possibly on the downward stroke of the ‘A’ or the first line of the ‘N’. Sadie swirled away from her body, or so it felt, into the little universe where it was just the two of them. Just how she wanted it to be.

Frank had moved away at Sadie’s lovely scream of pleasure, and was watching her face in obvious delight when she opened her eyes again. He kissed her forehead as he unshackled her wrists, and waited for her to speak first.

“No wonder you couldn’t sleep. If you had enough energy for that.” Sadie sat up slowly, with a smile, and tucked herself against Frank’s arm. He passed her a fresh glass of whiskey, and briefly kissed the top of her head. That dark hair smelt like expensive jasmine and sweat.

“When it comes to you, love, I am indefatigable.”

“How lovely of you to say so, Frankenstein.” Sadie touched his arm lightly with her nails as she sipped her whiskey. “I think you’ll have to be, for what’s going to happen shortly.”

If he had been wearing a tie, he would have loosened it slightly at her words. Sadie’s tone had a hint of mischief in it, and he found it rather hard to resist.

“Just as you wish, Sadistic.”

She grinned at that, and turned her face upwards to be kissed. “Let’s get through a few more of these, first. I do want you to get some sleep tonight.”