Friday Afternoon (3 page)

I never saw it.

With our new family, the dynamics within our home changed. The balance of power between Mia and I shifted. She was “in charge” of the kids, the home and by default, our sex life. She had a lot on her plate.

Then the months stacked and became years. After so much time of almost nonexistent in quantity and vanilla in quality sex, I stopped looking for the signs we’d ever return. The little sex we’ve had since the twins were born hasn’t held my attention much, and I stopped wondering if she cared years ago. After years of withstanding the bubbling need to dominate Mia like I used to, the urge gradually faded.

I stop pushing the heavy, wet snow and lean against the shovel to catch my breath. The warm air from my lungs creates wispy clouds as I exhale hard fast breaths. I take a moment to experience the wonder of the utterly black sky dotted with stars and the silent peace of the moment.

I love Mia and I’ve never cheated. But I’ve thought about it. Only someone with the knowledge of what it feels like to live this way for a long time can come to understand the thought processes of people who are unfaithful to their spouses. My guess is most of the time, the cheater loves their partner. They only do it for the thrill, the excitement of new sex with a new person. It’s the anticipation of the forbidden act, the rush of brushing bare skin against someone new, the desperate I-can’t-wait-to-fuck-you kisses as clothes fly off and bodies surge toward the bed that captures a person’s interest.

I grip the handle to my shovel and begin pushing snow again.

Now she’s ready. It’s time to take back my role within our marriage.

This is it. It’s my time. No, it’s our time again after so many years. I’m going to do everything possible to be the man I long to be both in and out of the bedroom.

I feel twenty-five again. I savor the power rushing through me at remembering the slow progression of Mia’s training all those years ago. It’s potent. Jesus. The comfortable mental slip back into that man feels totally natural. I recognize, maybe with the first truly clear head I’ve had on this subject for years, precisely how stunted we’ve become.

There’s nobody to blame but me. She took on so much. The least I could have done was ensure we didn’t land here, where we are today.

I push my last strip of snow and walk back toward the house, drawing in a clean breath of air and blowing it out.

It feels like I’ve been freed.

I’m going to give her everything she wants, and take everything I need.

Mia

While getting ready for work on Friday morning, I think about the date scheduled for later and take extra time in the shower, shaving my legs and smoothing expensive scented lotion over my skin.

I root around to the farthest reaches my underwear drawer, finding articles that haven’t seen the light of day for several years. I pull out a beautiful sapphire-colored bra-and-panty set and put it on.

Looking in the mirror, I’m blindsided by what I see as I scan my reflection. I’m doughy. A half-risen loaf of white bread wearing dark blue lace that cuts tightly into my soft parts. I sit on the edge of the bed. I’m hideous, a manatee in a bikini.

I shake this small setback off. I know it looks worse than it is because the underwear doesn’t fit right. I look at the boobs swelling up and out of the bra’s cups. Jeez, I can’t even remember being this small. I shake my head. I was always trying to lose weight back then, never appreciating how smooth and tight my body was.

I turn my attention back to the underwear drawer. However, I find every other matching set is the same, having been bought during the same era of my life, prepregnancy and twenty pounds lighter.

I start looking for panties that fit me and are sexy, too. What I discover is a drawer full of sensible numbers that don’t leave panty lines under my clothes. “Now, you’re not walking around with anything as bad as granny panties,” I mumble to myself. “But none of these are going to burn off a man’s retinas either.” I settle on my best pair of boring underwear, finish my routine and head out to work.

After a six-hour day, feeling more like sixty hours, I bolt out of there, anxious to get home. As I roll down the street of our suburban neighborhood, I spot Levi’s car in the driveway. I’m excited and afraid. I want so badly to have this go well. I say a quick silent prayer, “God, help us find what we’ve lost,” before I leave the warmth of my car and hurry the few frigid steps to enter the house.

Levi is waiting. His warm brown eyes greet me with gentle love. Two glasses of wine are cupped with care in one hand. He leans toward me and presses his lips against mine.

“Hello, sexy.” He hands me one of the glasses and takes my other hand, leading me into the family room. On the coffee table he has a small tray of munchies–olives, cheese and crackers.

I turn my head and look up at him. “This is so sweet of you.”

He bends over quickly and swipes another kiss before we settle next to each other on the couch.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” Levi says as he scoots closer to me and turns, slinging an arm over the back of the couch and facing me more directly. His eyes dance, glitter with a look I haven’t seen in a long time. My heart flutters fast, like hummingbird wings.

“What exactly is sticking with you?” I take a sip of wine. More to cover my face so my emotions aren’t so transparent than because I actually want a drink.

“That you’re right.” He tilts his head with a slight smile on his face and looks at me.

I raise a hand to my cheek. “What?”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Mia.”

We sit for a moment looking at each other and I take another sip of wine, feeling like I want to shy away from his commanding gaze. But I already feel like we’ve reestablished a connection that’s been broken for years because he’s looked at me and seen me, I think, for the first time in what feels like forever. I look down at my lap and my cheeks warm. I’ve always looked away from his intense scrutiny, wilting under the heat of it.

“I’ve made a serious mistake, dropped the ball in the one area of our marriage I’ve always controlled.”

“It’s nobody’s fault.”

Levi starts caressing my thigh with his fingertips, drawing small circles. The stroke of his fingers isn’t an absent movement. It’s slow and deliberate. His attention strays from our conversation to the movements of his hand. He dips fingers beneath the hem of my skirt and circles the pantyhose-covered skin underneath. His gaze is hot when he glances up to meet mine. I lose track of what I’m saying.

“I need these off,” he says as he pinches and pulls the stockings away from my skin and then releases them. The elastic material snaps back into place. I brace both feet on the floor lifting my rear off the couch as his hand travels up underneath my skirt and grabs the waistband of the hose. Seconds later, they’re on the floor at my feet, and Levi is leaning into me with his hand cupping the nape of my neck and his lips covering mine.

He kisses me. Not a peck or even a sweet, romantic one, but a hot, tongues-rolling and dancing, passionate kiss. My insides melt, turning to liquid as his tongue explores mine and his hands brand me with their rough, possessive command of my flesh.

He’s aggressive, leaning into me and pushing me back onto the cushions of the couch.

We’re like teenagers making out in the backseat of a car, feeling each other up through our clothes. He groans and presses himself against me, and I gasp from the initial awareness of his cock, fat and hard between us.

He’s hard and we’ve only barely started. I open my eyes to find him looking down at me, meeting my surprised stare. There’s a moment between us. Without a word he demolishes the biggest of my worries. He still finds me sexy. I look up at him, knowing I’m an open book. I see it in his eyes. In another instant, the moment is gone as if this was a piece of business that’s been taken care of and now he’s moving on.

He kisses me again, and when he breaks the kiss and lifts away from me, he asks, “Are you ready?” Not waiting for an answer, he stands up and offers a hand.

I smile up at him. “This feels weird.”

“Not for long.” His voice is a sexy rumble of promise that goes perfectly with the sinful thoughts reflected in his eyes.

I’m a little nervous when he pulls me up from my seat and leads me to the bedroom. Even though the girls aren’t due home from school for another two hours, I close and lock the door behind me.

It’s ridiculous, but I’m self-conscious when he unbuttons my blouse at a maddeningly slow pace. So deliberately, he teases my clothes away, like it was our first time together. Then I watch him as he removes his own. And maybe for the first time in years, I look at him too.

To me, Levi’s body has always been a thing of beauty, and it still is. His skin tone is darker, giving the lean lines of his body a welcoming palate of tans and shadow to differentiate the planes of his muscle underneath.

When we’re both finally nude and facing each other, he grabs my wrist and tugs me toward him. He looks into my eyes with serious intensity “
Mi amore
.”

I smile at the term of endearment he used to call me in the beginning. He picked it up from the
Adams Family
movie years ago and usually combined it with kisses trailing up my arm, like Gomez. He hasn’t used it in so long. It seems like it has only taken ten minutes of making out to take us to that place again.

The part of my soul that wants, more than anything, to please him blooms.

I fall to my knees in front of him, grasping his cock and taking satisfaction from the firm hand tangled in my hair, ultimately controlling my head.

“Mia,” he rasps and then groans as I lean into him to bestow some teasing attention with the flat of my tongue to the long underside of his cock before taking it into my mouth. I take as much of him in as I’m able. The smell of him takes me to an earlier place in time, an exciting, passionate place. I revel in the sensory flashback feeding my own arousal.

His grip tightens in my hair when the tentative, teasing swipes of my tongue transform to throat deep penetration. God, I forgot how much I loved giving him head, how much fulfillment I get from making him moan.

Slowly his hips flex and relax as he strokes in and out of my mouth. Cupping, and then gently rolling his balls in my free hand, I intensify my efforts. My need to please him strikes with a vengeance, hot and fast, like lightning. As I revel in the sensations provided by his flesh filling my mouth, rubbing against my tongue, butting the back of my throat, the only word I can think of to explain the need I feel is starvation. I’m starving for everything this act gives me. My emotional grid explodes with the need to show him my intense feelings of love and dedication that can never truly be expressed with mere words.

Then, suddenly, his grip in my hair tightens. He pulls my head away.

“Slow down, babe. We’ve got time.”

I look up at him, desperate to continue. I want to make him fall in love with me again. I want to feel the intimacy of swallowing his release. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

The look of surprise followed by the spark of desire flashing in his eyes tells me the words he’s going to say before they pass through his lips.

“And I want to come in your mouth. I fucking want it more than my next breath.” He takes my hand, lifting me up from my knees, and leads me to the bed. “Climb in.”

I do, lying down on my back. I have a flash of fear we’re going to go back to the taking turns pattern of coming we’ve gotten hung up on over the past few years. He nudges my legs apart and kneels between them. But instead of going down on me like I expect, he covers my body with his. We fit together so well. Always have. I wrap my legs around him and his dick settles right at the opening of my pussy. It’s hot and smooth and makes my inner muscles contract with anticipation.