“Are you going to introduce Allen to her?” There was a splash of anger or fear in her eyes.
“Hopefully, he’ll forget about that. She really isn’t the type I want him associating with.”
“He doesn’t seem like the forgetful type.” She pressed a finger to my forehead. “And he’s laser-focused on the Russian Revolution. Meg’s specialty.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Besides, Allen’s an adult and can associate with whomever he wants. Right now, my focus is on you.” I nuzzled into her neck, planting soft kisses on her skin. “Shall I put you to bed?”
“I’m not tired.”
“I was counting on that. Come on, beautiful.” I hopped up and put my hand out.
“Don’t you mean, beau-ti-ful?”
“It’s your turn to play nice or I won’t tuck you in.”
“I think you will.” She wore her come hither expression.
“Are you really willing to test my stubborn streak?” I tapped my right foot on the Oriental rug.
“Yes.” She tugged her shirt up high enough to give me a sneak peek of her breasts.
“Not going to work.”
Sarah sat up and removed her shirt. “Remember when I was pregnant and you couldn’t touch them. We need to make up for lost time.” She squeezed her tits together, forcing them to spill over the bra cups, before slowly letting her hands fall to give my eyes full access.
I sucked in a breath, zeroing in on her black-lace pushup bra doing wonders for her impressive rack. “Take back what you said. When you mocked me.”
“You don’t think I’m beautiful?” she said, her voice playful and sexy, running a slender finger from her throat to the top of her pajama bottoms.
“You know I do.”
“What am I taking back, then?” She cupped her breasts again, using my weakness to draw me in further.
Not willing to admit I didn’t mind her tactics, I said, “Your attitude.”
Sarah leaned back on her arms, arching perfectly to put her goods on show. “It’s hot in here.” She eased her pajama bottoms off.
“Was this your plan all along?”
“What are you talking about?” She was able to come across as completely innocent, making her even more alluring.
“Since when do you keep your lingerie on when getting into your pajamas?” I waved an accusing finger in the air. “Usually, you go commando.”
“Are you accusing me of riling you up as part of my seduction plan?” Her breasts heaved up and down. She knew my every weakness when it came to her body.
I inched closer to the couch. “Y-yes, I am.”
“You think that little of me?” She swung her legs over the edge of the couch, each on one side of me. Her fingers reached for the top button on my jeans.
“I think the world of you, especially when it comes to this?” My breath hitched as Sarah slowly lowered the zipper.
“To what?”
“Getting me hot and bothered.”
She tugged my jeans down. “Are you hot? Let’s find out.” Sarah buried her face in my panties, pulling back way too quickly. “You’re warm.”
“Oh, I think I’ve reached hot level. Try again.”
Sarah supported herself on her arms. “Hmmm… I think I have the upper hand right now. How does that make you feel, Ms. Control Freak?”
“Again, you’re testing my stubbornness?” I stepped out of my jeans, kicking them to the side.
Her eyes fell to my discarded baggy Gap jeans. “Clearly it’s failing.”
I stifled a groan, not of anger, but desire. “Keep pressing my buttons and I’ll take you right here, not in the comfort of our bed.”
She tossed her head back, laughing. “We need to work on your threats.”
I shoved the coffee table up against the other couch, not bothering to right the empty vase that tumbled from the force. “Floor. Now!”
Sarah didn’t mess about.
“Nope. On all fours,” I commanded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I got on my knees behind her ass, yanking her panties down hard, nearly tearing them. “You want punishment?”
Sarah nodded.
My hand reached under her to fondle her wet pussy lips. Without warning, I shoved two fingers inside.
Sarah’s upper body crouched down on her forearms, allowing me complete access.
I moved in and out of her, provoking moans.
This made me hammer her harder.
I relished the slapping sounds my hand made, moving in and out.
Faster and faster.
My other hand reached underneath, slipping under the bra to tweak her left nipple and to massage her breast.
One of Sarah’s hands moved to stimulate herself.
“Is this how you wanted it? For me to fuck you?” I breathed heavily.
“Yes,” she groaned. “Harder.”
I complied while her fingers stimulated her clit with deliberate intensity.
She was so wet.
So willing.
And so beautiful.
Her tremor alerted me to how close she was to exploding. I jammed my fingers deep inside and pulled to hit her G-spot.
Sarah’s upper body bucked up off the ground, and I supported her against me with one arm. Her quivering ebbed, and she fell back to the carpet.
I lay on top of her backside.
Kissing her shoulder, I asked, “Was that okay?”
Sarah mumbled a yes.
“Are you ready to go upstairs?”
She shook her head.
“You want more?” I laughed.
“Maybe.”
Surprised, I moved to her side and said, “My way, this time.”
Knowing what I meant, she rolled onto her back.
Her pussy glistened.
“I can’t go to sleep without having a taste.”
My mouth went to work.
Chapter Ten
The following morning, I woke early. Before the twins, my usual routine every morning had been to jump out of bed, hop on my bike, ride for at least an hour, and return before Sarah woke. Since the twins, I tried to go for rides when I could, mostly every Sunday. Now that Bailey was with us, I hoped to return to my usual morning rides, although that hadn’t worked out yet.
Sarah didn’t stir when my feet hit the carpet. Sitting on the edge of the king-size bed, I stretched my arms overhead, yawning. The sun wasn’t up, and it took my eyes several seconds to adjust to the darkness. Squinting, I made out the time on the antique art nouveau—Maddie’s term—naked ladies clock on my nightstand. Not even six.
“Excellent,” I whispered.
Not wanting to waste a moment, I rushed through my morning routine, put on shorts and the dinosaur T-shirt since I’d slept naked, and skedaddled downstairs. My bag was ready to go by the garage door.
The air was crisp, a sure sign the pleasant autumn temperatures were about to give way. On my bike, I headed north with the foothills on my left, although I could only make out their darkness against the even darker sky in the west. My LED headlight illuminated the way as I sliced through the predawn hours. The best part of the light, aside from being able to see, was drivers could spy me over 1000 feet away. Being a Sunday, this wasn’t a huge issue. I dispatched with the side roads, turning right onto Taft Hill Road. It wouldn’t be long until I turned left on County Road.
My destination was merely five miles, give or take, from my home. Faint fingers of light edged over the eastern horizon. County Road used to be one of my gateways to a much longer ride through the canyon. Lately, a diner was my stopping point every Sunday I managed to escape.
There were several pickups and one work truck in the parking lot. At the gas pumps on the side, a man in tight Wranglers and a long-sleeve plaid shirt filled his F-250.
I locked up my bike and made my way inside.
The hostess smiled. “Morning, Lizzie. I saved your favorite table in case you made it today.”
I
smiled. The majority of the tables were vacant, but it was the thought that counted. “Thanks. How you been, Ada?”
“Too early to tell. Right now, it’s just the regulars. Who knows what the day will bring. Yesterday a group from California came through. It took them ages to order. Asking if the eggs were free range. Could they only get egg whites? Organic this. Organic that. I swear they’ll die younger stressing about what they can or can’t eat.”
I took my seat under the massive bison head mounted on the wall. One of the reasons I preferred this seat was so I didn’t have to look at the poor creature. The other was the accessible socket for my laptop.
“Your usual?” she asked with an expression that claimed she knew the answer but felt compelled out of politeness to ask.
“Yep.”
She rested her hand on my shoulder. “Another reason why I like regulars. You guys never mess up our inventory. Biscuits and gravy coming up. And your tea will be here in two shakes.” She playfully wiggled one leg, acting out the two shakes before heading off.
True to her word, the tea arrived before my newly acquired ASUS Chromebook, purchased because of its size or lack thereof, had time to boot up. The battery was full, per usual, but I still claimed this table and had the power cord just in case inspiration struck and I needed longer than a few hours. While the size of the laptop was ideal for dragging it on my supposed bike rides, the battery life was only so-so.
That wasn’t a huge issue. Being a mother of one-year-old twins made it difficult to carve out large chunks of time. Another reason why I cherished Sunday mornings.
Getting a chill, I slipped on my black fleece jacket and stifled a smile, knowing Maddie would razz me for pairing black with navy shorts, a pet peeve of the designer. It was all I had packed in my Sunday bag, though, and I doubted Ada or the bison minded. I opened the Word doc and got to work.
Ada, not wanting to disrupt me, placed my meal to the side without much fanfare, and my Bose headphones blocked out any sound.
I hadn’t been able to work on this project since Thursday, but that didn’t stop my muse from bombarding my brain with ideas. My fingers flew over the keys to get as much down before the guilt crept in, wrecking my concentration.
After my first bite of cold biscuits and gravy, it dawned on me that I’d been typing for longer than thirty minutes without stopping or thinking. I’d read that was a good thing. Writing sprints. But, this project was my first go at fiction, so the academic in me worried about the quality, and I had to stop the impulse to insert endnotes. Blocking this out, I focused on eating a few more bites before beginning another sprint. More than likely, this project wouldn’t go anywhere. It was mostly my way to blow off steam. Something for me that no one knew about. Not even Sarah.
Before I tortured myself with thoughts about whether or not it was wrong not to tell Sarah, I started the next sprint.
A quarter after eight, I packed up my laptop.
Ada placed the box containing four cinnamon rolls on the table. “Get some work done?”
“Yep.”
A group of ten crashed through the entrance. Judging from their just off the rack hiking outfits from REI, I determined they were out-of-towners.
Ada groaned and whispered behind her hand. “If one of them asks if our products are organic…” She left the threat unsaid.
I laid cash on the table, adding an extra five for Ada. Giving the excited tourists a wide berth, I headed for safety. Outside, I texted Sarah, letting her know I was only five miles away. Not waiting for her reply, I shed the jacket, secured the box behind my seat, and strapped my bag on tightly.
“Gimmie!” Sarah demanded as soon as I entered the kitchen via the garage.
I handed over the cinnamon roll loot. “Where are the twinks?”
“In the front room with Maddie and Mom. How was the ride? Maybe I should start going with you if you keep bringing these bad boys home.”
Not wanting to address her non-existent weight problem and the possibility of her joining me for bike rides, I diverted, feeling slightly conflicted. “Your mom is here?” I whispered.
Maddie flounced in with an extra pep in her step. “I hope you have one of those for me.” She pointed to the massive roll on a plate Sarah was about to pop into the microwave. “It’s the only reason why I get out of bed this early on a Sunday. Can’t you go for a bike ride later and make this a Sunday brunch tradition? And, if possible, can you share your Graves’ Disease so the calories won’t add up?” She walloped my arm.
“You do know the disease can kill you if you don’t treat it?” I asked.
“Yes, you keep telling me that every time—”
I butted in, “Every time you discount how miserable I was when I had to fight doctors to take me seriously when I felt like hell, then having blood tests every month, and taking medicine that didn’t agree with my system all the while working my ass off in grad school.”
Sarah added two more rolls to the plate, and using her knuckle to avoid getting fingerprints on the keypad, she plugged in twenty-five seconds and hit start. In an effort to diffuse the Graves’ disease brouhaha, she steered to a safer topic. “Brunch. I think I remember what that is.”
Knowing the battle with Maddie was fruitless, I added, “It’s something parents of one-year-old twins never attend.” I disappeared around the corner to bring my bag into the library and take a few moments to gather my thoughts before joining everyone.
Freddie’s giggles greeted me in the front room.
“Good morning, Rose,” I said, taking a seat on the carpet between the twinks.
“How was your ride, Lizzie?” Her voice was overly kind.
The thought of FDR cooperating with Stalin to fight Hitler entered my mind. Was Rose Stalin? Surely, I hadn’t meant to compare Sarah to Hitler. My brain fumbled for a second too long to curb saying any of this aloud, and finally, I was able to get out, “Refreshing.” I paused, searching for something to say. “I hear you’re having lunch with Helen today.”
“Yes, I popped over in hopes of convincing Sarah to go.”
I peered at my wife, who had entered holding a tray with the rolls, a chrome carafe, and small blue and white porcelain plates, which according to Maddie were chic and only for casual dining. She set the tray on the table and then took a seat across the room from her mother.
“Why don’t you?” I asked, getting up to sit closer to Sarah but still on the twins’ level.
Her chocolate eyes turned molten. “Because the twins have a music lesson today.”
“I think I can manage that.” I gave it more consideration. “I don’t have to play anything, do I?” My voice sounded nervous even to myself.
“You might,” Sarah said with emphasis.
“I don’t have plans. Gabe’s working. I’ll go with Lizzie.” Maddie chomped into her roll, icing oozing over her fingers, prompting her to lick them clean. “These really are the best, and I consider myself an expert in all things tasty.”
“It’s settled, then.” Rose sneezed, more than likely an allergic reaction to Hank, who wasn’t present, but getting all of his hair and dander out of the carpet, off the drapes, and out of the furniture was quite the challenge for Miranda, our cleaner. This was the biggest reason why every time Rose babysat the twinks, she did so at her house. The humidifiers helped some. Rose sneezed again and stood. “I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours.”
Wisely, she left before Sarah had a chance to think of another excuse.
“Really, you two. Really!” Sarah’s face turned redder than Spiderman’s face on Ollie’s shirt.
I put my hands up. “I’m sorry. I only thought you’d want a break from the twins. I go riding every Sunday, and well, you and your mom used to go shopping every Satur—”
“That was before Troy,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Yes. BT, not to be confused with BCE.”
Maddie’s brow creased as she took a massive bite of cinnamon roll.
�
��Before common era. It’s the PC version instead of saying before Christ and after Christ.”
Maddie scoffed but had her mouth full and couldn’t really let her opinion fly.
I switched my focus back to Sarah. “You really should set time aside for a break.”
“Some of us don’t mind spending so much time with our children.” She crossed her arms. “And some of us don’t work outside of the home. Tell me, Lizzie, why do you need Sunday mornings all to yourself?”
I knew Sarah’s anger had nothing to do with my bike rides, since she’d never given two hoots about them before. But I also suspected bringing that up would be the worst possible decision at the moment. Pointing out a spouse was in the wrong was pitfall number 58 for married couples.
“Lizzie’s right. You need time to yourself. Join a club. Find a hobby. Take Gabe up on his offer of working in the shop part-time. You need to get away from the twins and have time to yourself. That way you won’t be wound so tightly.” Maddie added piping hot coffee in her half-full cup.
“I’m not tightly wound!”
Freddie, momentarily startled, got to his feet and stumbled over to Sarah, handing her his stuffed elephant. “M-mama.”
Sensing a golden opportunity, I said, “Maddie’s right. You really do need some time to yourself.”
Sarah swept Freddie onto her lap, cradling him tightly. “And who’ll watch the twinks?”
“Me, of course.” I patted my chest with an open palm.
“This isn’t your way of finding another way to get alone time, is it? Hire a babysitter or have Bailey, who’s only part-time, clock in more hours without telling me?” Her voice lacked the venom she was going for.
I shook my head. “Don’t take the Troy situation out on me, please.”
Maddie gave me an atta girl head bob. “I rarely say this twice in one day, but Lizzie is right. And maybe you two need to institute a date night. I can watch the kids, or Jorie can. She’s desperate for cash.”
Stunned by this development, I asked, “You hang out with Jorie?”
“We exchanged digits at the birthday party.” She mimicked dialing a phone.
A Conflicted Woman Page 11
