He hated Valentine's Day. She knew that.

In the six years they had been together, they never once celebrated Valentine's Day.

Because it was a "commercial shit hole, yet another example for the exploitation of a religion based celebration for the monetary gain of a marginal market of the economy", as he called it.

So they didn't exchange cards. Or gifts. Didn't have a special meal.

They did have sex. But then, so they did on most nights, to be fair. That was not connected with the day itself.

Therefore, she was very confused when she turned up at work and found an envelope with his handwriting at the top of her mail stack on her desk on Valentine's Day.

Maybe it was just a coincidence.

He liked to sometimes send her a handwritten note from a random hotel they were staying at when on tour. He thought it was romantic. She thought it was cute.

These letters usually would arrive in an envelope with the hotel's logo on it. This one, however, was crisp white.

She placed the rest of the mail down and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a card.

But not just any card.

The front was adorned with dozens of hearts of all sorts of sizes, reds, pinks, purples, seemingly forcefully squeezed into a frame the whole size of the card. The face of a mouse with overly large ears and eyes popped out amongst the hearts.

She laughed and folded the card open. The printed message read:

I tried to squeeze all my love for you in this card,

but it just wouldn't fit.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Underneath it, his personal message in his best penmanship said:

So yeah, that happened... I love you.

x Shannon

She smiled. It was cute.

She grabbed her phone, snapped a picture of his card sitting on her desk and sent it to him.

Going soft on me now? Thank you. Love you xxx

She put the phone away, knowing full well he was halfway around the world and very busy making lots of people happy, and set to work.

After her lunch break, she returned to a parcel on her desk. It was labelled as "personal". Huh. She opened a drawer to get some scissors out and cut through the packing tape.

Inside the box was another box. It had dark and light pink stripes on it, a black thin frame. She took it out of the other box and placed it on the table. She noticed it was upside down.

On the front were black letters. VICTORIA'S SECRET.

She quirked an eyebrow. Now this was getting interesting.

When she lifted the lid a card lay on the tissue paper. She decided to have a look at the content of the box first.

It was a set: bra, panties, garter belt, stockings. All in black. His favourite colour on her.

She opened the card. It was all his writing.

Your lips are red

My balls are blue

I just can't wait

To cum inside you.

Wear this when I get home.

Love you

X Shannon

She laughed out loud. She considered sending him another picture of the gift and card, but then thought of something better. Stuffing the lingerie into her handbag, she kicked the cardboard under her desk and went to the toilet.

When she returned to her desk, she waited until the daily meeting had started and hung back in her office. She quickly undid the top few buttons of her blouse and pulled up her skirt. Just a little preview. She took a selfie, then straightened out her clothes and rushed to the meeting.

Whilst her supervisor was droning on and on about the latest sales figures and marketing strategies, she sent him the picture. Phone under the table.

Ready when you are. Xx

She smirked when she hit send. That would give him blue balls for sure.

Moments later she excused herself from the meeting as her phone vibrated.

"Family emergency," she muttered.

The door clicked shut behind her.

"Fuck, you look hot," he greeted her in a low voice.

She laughed, leaning against the hallway wall.

"Mmh, I do. Shame you're not here."

"Sweetheart, I've never been tempted more to jump on the next plane home." His voice was husky and deep. There was a lot of background noise.

She sighed. "Soon."

"Soon," he agreed gruffly. "I gotta go, babe."

"I love you."

"I love you."

He disconnected the call.

She stared at the phone in her hand. A long sigh escaped her. Then she quietly pushed open the door to the meeting room and sat back down in her chair.

Hours later she returned home. She turned on the TV on her way to the kitchen. It helped drown out the silence he used to leave behind.

She checked the fridge, but closed it again. Her appetite always waned when he was gone. Instead she poured herself a glass of whiskey.

She didn't even like it. But it reminded her of him.

Upstairs she changed out of her office clothes. She chanced a glance in the mirror. He was right. Black looked hot on her. She left the lingerie on and opened his side of the wardrobe to pick one of his shirts and slipped it on.

Before he would go away, she would steal a few of the tops he had worn. Save them from a wash. It helped her through the tough times while he was gone. His scent calmed her down.

She also slept on his side of the bed. Hugging his pillow to her, pretending it was him. Another coping mechanism.

Whiskey glass in hand, she sat outside, cuddled in a blanket. Her head turned in surprise, when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door to a young girl chewing gum, holding up a small but beautiful bunch of flowers - campanulas and baby's breath. Her favourite.

She signed, the girl left and she closed the door. There was a small card attached. This time it was printed out.

Just imagine I said something romantic.

I suck at this. Happy V-Day.

x Shannon

Shannon didn't give flowers, usually. So there were no vases in the house. She filled a big glass jar with water and took the flowers outside. They looked pretty in the soft glow of the fairy lights. She cuddled back in the blanket, whiskey in one hand, phone in the other.

She snapped a picture and sent it to him.

Love my flowers. I thought we didn't do Valentine's Day?... Thank you for all my treats.

Wish you were here. Love you. x

She selected some music on her phone and leaned back in the recliner. Sighing, she held the whiskey glass in her hand, sniffing it every now and again.

The door to the patio slid open. Footsteps approached. Her heart sped up, but she didn't turn around. Leather softly creaked.

"Your wish is my command," he murmured into her ear.

She sat up and turned to him. He was crouching in front of her. Her hands sought out to his face, caressing him. He was really here.

He gathered her in his arms. His warmth felt so good. She let out a sob.

"Sweetheart?" he sounded concerned.

Her fingers fisted in the leather of his opened jacket. Tears escaped and ran over her cheeks into his shirt.

"Babe, I'm here," he soothed, rocking her. He kissed her hair.

She looked up, found his lips in a desperate kiss. The world shifted back into place.

She pulled away, looking into his eyes.

He brushed her tears away.

"You're here," she breathed.

"I'm here," he assured. "For six days. Leg of our tour got cancelled. Sudden dispute with venue. So I thought I'd come home, surprise you."

His hazel eyes were warm, full of love. "Surprise."

She laughed, wrapped her arms around him. "I love you."

"You're so flying out to come see me at least once every fortnight from now on," he murmured into her neck. "Fuck your job. I make enough money for the both of us."

"I'd be bored, you know that."

"Then work for us."

Another laugh escaped her. He pulled away, grabbing her hands.

"I'm serious, babe. Come work for us. Jared's offered you the job a dozen times now. Take him up on it."

"I don't want to distract you from your music."

"You're not. I just want you there with me. Please."

She wanted to say yes. So very much.

"Maybe this'll convince you," he said, fiddling with his coat pocket. He pressed a flat box in her hand.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Open and find out."

She did. It was a black ring. His favourite colour on her.

She looked up at him, heart beating. "Shannon?"

"I know you can choose to spend your life with anyone. Please choose me. I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. Wear this ring to show you own my heart."

She gave him a long look. Heart beating in her throat. Then she picked the ring out of the box, placed it in the palm of his hand. Concern flashed across his face.

"Only if you put it on me."

He let out a relieved laugh. Took her left hand and slid the ring on. She pulled him into her. They lost themselves in a long kiss.

His hands slid under the blanket, up her legs.

"You're wearing the lingerie? Under my shirt?" he smirked.

She hummed, as his hands stoked a fire in her.

He leaned forward, kissing her lips. Then down her neck. Hands roaming and exploring under his shirt.

"I have a very serious case of blue balls," he murmured, breath hot on her ear. "Do you think you could make it better?"

Her fingers found his straining crotch.

"That must hurt," she whispered. "We should relieve that."

He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Her squeals turned to laughter. He jogged up the stairs, threw her on the bed. She took off his shirt. She propped up on her elbows, legs bent, open for him to see.

His hot gaze trailed from her legs up to her face.

"Fuck."

His clothes fell on the floor. Eyes dark pools of fire, he stepped to the bed. Gloriously naked, fully erect. Her eyes raked over his toned body. Her core ached for him instantly. He was so fucking beautiful. And all hers.

He grabbed her ankles and tugged her to the edge of the bed. His hot hands on the silky stockings felt exquisite. Up they went, across her stomach, cupping her lace covered breasts.

"Fucking gorgeous," he breathed.

His hands cupped her face. She took his thumb in his mouth. Sucking, swirling her tongue round him, all while maintaining eye contact.

He all but growled. She smirked.

"On all fours," he commanded.

She did as told. She could hear him swallow. She felt his hands on her butt, grabbing her mounds. His fingers traced the lacy panties.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, rolling her ass just so. His pupils dilated. The lace of the panties ripped as he tore them off her.

She smirked again. Another pair that didn't live to see the first wash. She didn't care.

His finger slid over her slick folds to her throbbing clit. A finger slid inside. She moaned. His turn to smirk. He added another.

"So fucking wet for me," he praised.

He added a third finger.

"Shannon," she begged, hips thrusting back to meet him.

His fingers slid out of her.

"Look at me."

She did to see him lick his fingers clean. Then he bent forward to kiss her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth. Tasting herself on him made her moan.

He pulled back, hands gliding over her curved back. He lined his weeping hardness up with her entrance. Hands gripping her hips tightly. Her fingers twisted around the bedsheet.

With a hard thrust he filled her completely. Her head fell back, in a silent cry. Six years of this and still she couldn't get enough of him. The feeling of him stretching and filling her completely.

He started a head-spinningly fast rhythm. Thrusting in and out of her. Holding her in an almost painful grip, pulling her down, pushing inside her as deep as he could. Sex was always like this the first few days after a separation. Hard, frantic, desperate, raw, out of control.

"Fuck, Shannon!"

A throaty moan. He loved when she was loud. She couldn't have been quiet if she tried. She loved when he lost control with her. A primal instinct. Such a turn on for her.

She arched her back, when his fingers snuck to her clit, rubbing, pinching. A blinding wave of oblivion washed over her. Her body was shaking as she came hard around his cock. She heard someone moan loudly. Maybe it was her. Maybe him. She couldn't tell over the ringing in her ears.

He didn't stop. If anything, he moved faster. Hips angled. She collapsed onto her face, ass still in the air. He let go of her hip and found her breasts. They jiggled with each thrust. He squeezed her boobs, teasing her nipples over the lace of the bra. Fingers still rubbing on her clit.

She could feel another toe curling orgasm build. His hand left her breasts, found her hair. She licked her lips. His fingers twisted around, pulled on her hair. She pushed herself up, until she was upright. Back arched against him, hands on his ass.

"Look at us." A hoarse command. He pulled on her hair, tilting her head to the side.

She opened her eyes, looking into the mirror of the wardrobe. They looked hot. A sweaty mess of bodies, clashing together. She could see his cock move out of her, coated in her juices, and disappear inside of her completely. His fingers working her clit. She bit her lip.

Her eyes wandered up to his face. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, mouth open, breathing harshly. She felt herself get wetter.

His eyes met hers in the mirror. Her breath hitched. Dark desire, unadulterated, primal lust. The visual was such a turn on. She fell apart, shouting his name, body going slack as she convulsed around him again and again.

He let go of her hair. A few more hard thrusts and he was right there with her, grunting out his release in a string of expletives. She could feel his cock inside her, spurting ropes of semen against her cervix.

Her arms gave out and she collapsed onto her front. He placed open-mouthed kisses on her back. He pulled out of her, lying beside her. His cum trickled out of her. They kissed slowly, passionately.

Then he got up, went to the bathroom. Moments later she felt a warm, wet flannel between her legs. He cleaned her up tenderly, thoroughly. A thud from the laundry basket. He had probably missed it again, knocking it over, because he didn't look. He slipped into bed beside her, pulling the sheets over them. He was always so gentle afterwards. As if he felt the need to make up for his roughness.

They locked eyes, his fingers finding her hand. He traced his black ring on her finger.

"Mine."

The pride in his husky voice made her heart flutter.

"Caveman," she smiled.

"And you love it," he growled playfully.

"You know I do," she suppressed a yawn.

He pushed her head onto his chest, fingers tracing her back. "Get some rest, love. I'll wake you up for round two."

She smiled into his chest, pressing her lips against his skin. He smelt so much better than his pillow. Felt better, too. She closed her eyes, his touch relaxing her. She was asleep within minutes.