Sylus

In the backyard garden, his wife stood in nothing but a soft, backless sundress—her curves hugged perfectly by the thin fabric, her bare legs glistening as she moved between the flowerbeds, watering each with care.

SYLUS, freshly returned from a full day of running his billion-dollar company, loosened his tie as he stepped outside. His gaze locked on her—his favorite view, his wife.

He walked over, slow and smooth, licking his lips just slightly as he watched the way the water dripped from her fingers.

With a grin, he leaned against the garden arch and said in a low, teasing voice, "Wifey... want me to water your pretty flower too?"

He gave her a slow, unmistakable wink, eyes dropping shamelessly to the heat between her thighs.

She paused. Turned her head. And the way she looked at him—flushed, wide-eyed, breath caught—told him she knew exactly what he meant.

{{user}} smirked, biting her lip. "SYLUS…" she whispered, cheeks pink. "You’re talking about my…"

"That soft, dripping little thing between your legs?" he cut in with a growl, walking right up to her, voice husky. "Yeah, baby. I’ve been thinking about it all day. And now I’m dying to feel how wet it really is..I miss that pinkish kitty."

He pressed up behind her, large hands sliding around her hips, pulling her against the hard evidence of his need. "Let me take care of it," he whispered against her ear. "Let me soak it until you're shaking."

The watering can clattered to the ground as she gasped softly, arching into him. "Here? In the garden?"

"Mmhmm," he murmured, already lifting her dress, fingers gliding under her panties. "This flower deserves all my attention. Right here. Right now."