Marianne huddled under the covers, teeth chattering as she eased closer to Bog's lanky but warm chest. His arms wound tighter around her but warmth seemed juuuust out of reach.
"Better?" he asked.
"No. How many frickin quilts do we have on this bed?" Marianne asked, shivering lightly against Bog's warmth.
"Five, love. There's five on every adults bed on the ranch, six on the children's. And those are all the quilts on El Bosque Oscura."
"R-remind me to get Dawn and Griselda started on more in the morning. This is killing me!"
Bog chuckled and started slowly sliding her flannel night shift up running his leg between hers.
"Bog, cut it out its too damned cold to do anything!" she yelped.
"Old Indian trick," he explained, "We'll share body heat this way and stay warmer." His lips trailed down her neck. She didn't know if it was the suggestion or what but she was suddenly getting warmer.
Bog's calloused hands continued to travel over her hips, up her waist, until her shift was bunched beneath her arms. Marianne turned in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Well that is certainly one way to get warm," she agreed, tossing her leg around his waist.
"Yeah, they say it works even if ye don't make love," he chuckled into her kisses.
"Aww, now what fun is there in that?" Marianne replied.
"My sentiments exactly, Tough Girl," he purred, burying his face against her neck and liberally marking the column of porcelain for all to see.
Marianne groaned as he pulled her hips against his giving her a good feel of just what she was doing to him.
His rough palm slid over her breast and the nipple, already hard in the cold winter air, was more than sensitive to his touch. Her gasp told him he was doing something right and he groaned into her neck and the fabric blocking his access to more of her creamy skin.
Bog pulled away just long enough to wrestle her free of the flannel. He let out a soft groan at the sight of her skin as it glowed in the moonlight.
"By God, you are stunning Marianne," he breathed.
"And you are wearing too many clothes for this plan of yours to work," she smirked, running her hands under his long handle shirt.
Bog shuddered at her fingers raking slowly over his chest. "Marianne..." his breath hitched as she arched her sharp little fingernails into the muscles on his abdomen and eased down to the hemline of his long Johns, tracing the waistband of the pants.
"So now the question is, how horney am I? And what should I take off first?"
Bog groaned at his wife's teasing and grabbed at her tiny wrists. Marianne was quick and easily evaded his grasp with a chuckle. She hooked her hands in the hem of his shirt and slowly started working it up over his head.
Once his bare chest, riddled with scars of past conflicts, was bared, Marianne took her time to kiss each and every scar. Her feather light lips brushing over the sensitive flesh had Bog shivering in delight.
"Oh love," he moaned. His lips tracing patterns over his wife's neck. "What ya do to me."
She ground her hips against his, tossing a leg around his waist and pulling him close to her clothed heat.
Bog gasped when he realized her little hand had snuck into his long johns and she grasped his already hard length. Marianne smirked into his lips and slowly began to stroke him. Bog thrust into her hand at the feel of her fingers around him and her bare breasts pressed against his own chest, heat radiating from both of them. He moaned helplessly into her neck and felt her chuckle at his situation.
"Alright," he said rolling her over, and laying atop her, "Enough of that cruelty, Tough Girl, my turn." Bog eased her long johns down (cause Marianne King did not wear bloomers thank you) and kissed down along her thigh to her ankle as he tossed them aside.
He then resumed his journey up her inner legs earning whimpers and her fists tight in his hair as he neared her center. "B-Bog," she whimpered, her toes curling beside him. "Please."
"Please what, Tough Girl?" he asked, resting his chin on her belly, hands on her twitching hips.
"I need..." she breathed.
"Ye-es?" he hummed.
"Damnit, Bog, do something! I am about to die from spontaneous combustion!" Bog smirked at his wife and moved a hand, placing it just over her center. His fingers teased her opening and his thumb applied just enough pressure to have her thrashing for more.
"God, you are evil," she hissed.
"Then be specific," Bog whispered in a husky low voice that had Marianne shivering beneath him.
"How about you do something useful with that mouth," she growled, rutting up against him.
"As the Lady of the house says," he crooned dipping his head to breath a blast of cooled air on her hot wet core. Marianne gasped, her head slamming back against the pillow. Bog proceeded to slowly run his tongue over her seam, not yet dipping into her but drawing a lusty moan from her.
"Damn you," she managed through gritted teeth, "Torturing your poor wife like this."
"Poor?" Bog snorted, "You make hellcats look tame, love."
"If you don't get busy, I will show you hellcat."
Bog complied, delivering a soft kiss to her womanhood and burying his tongue deep in her. Marianne's back arched in ecstasy and her sharp nails dug into his scalp as he proceeded to lave her senseless.
"Ahhh!" she cried, wrapping her thighs around his shoulders so she wouldn't smother him.
Bog licked and nipped at her sensitive folds until she came. Her hand slapped over her mouth to muffle the glorious cry of his name in an attempt to keep from waking the rest of the house.
Bog eased up her body, delivering light little kisses along the way before pressing his lips fiercely against hers. Marianne moaned at the taste of her on his lips.
Bog settled himself between her thighs and smiled. Marianne smiled, lazily back before catching Bog off guard and rolling them. Bog gaped up at Marianne then smiled as she slowly reached between them, guiding his tip to her opening.
Slowly, Marianne eased herself onto him. Bog groaned at her tightness clenching him, her inner muscles still spasming from her previous orgasm.
"You are amazing, Marianne," he croaked, thrusting his hips upwards as she ground down on him, rocking her hips in circles.
"You're not so bad yourself, there, Bog," she groaned huskily, letting a particularly loud groan when he hit just the right spot within her.
Marianne raised her hips before slamming them down again, in search of that perfect sensation. Bog's large calloused hands lighted on her hips in an aid to her ascent and descent onto him.
Their exchange of words was lost in favor of gripping hands and groaned names. Bog marveled at his wife, astride him, ridding him to submission like a wild bronc. It was moments like these, seeing her come apart atop him, hair mussed, body flushed, that he realized just how blessed he was to have this hellcat of his.
"B-Bog," Marianne gasped, "here it... again. Ohnnn coming."
Bog acted quickly, jerking her mouth down to his, neither of them slowing in their determined, erratic thrusts. Marianne came hard around him, spurring him to his own orgasm. They swallowed each others cries of desire in their moment of completion.
Marianne pulled away, panting and with a sex drunk look on her face. "Damn," she breathed.
"Yeah," Bog agreed. Marianne shifted off of him and he curled her into his arms again. "So the no clothes thing?"
"Bog, we may never wear clothes to bed again," Marianne sighed.
Bog chuckled and pulled her closer, "I can live with that."
000
The next morning at breakfast, everyone was unusually quite. Sunny and Dawn ate in silence, blushing whenever they looked at Bog or Marianne. Griselda was giving them a cheeky grin and Shilo, Cyrus, and Liane were all looking confused at the adults.
Shilo was the one who broke the silence. "Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Are you still mad ad Daddy?"
Marianne looked puzzled, "What makes you think I am mad at Daddy?"
"I heard you two fighting last night."
Bog nearly choked on his eggs and Marianne turned pale while her sister and brother in law opted for beat red. And Griselda? Griselda guffawed.
"What?" Shilo asked. Innocent and confused.
