But he didn’t stop there.
Lower and lower he went, setting off tiny tremors. He even smiled to himself when her breathing quickened to someone running a marathon. He squeezed more oil from the tube and ran his hands down her legs and in between her thighs.
When he finally reached the end of the table, he slid his hands beneath her buttocks and then grabbed hold of her waist so he could slide her down to the edge.
“You know, I think I can get a better taste of it this way,” he said huskily and then lowered onto a small chair while settling her legs over his shoulders.
Chanté’s eyes widened at the feel of her husband’s tongue sliding into her. Then they drifted closed as it began moving inside of her. Every thought emptied out of her head and all that was left were these wonderful sensations heating up her body.
Matthew paid particular attention to the hard pearl in the heart of her “secret garden.” The strokes were languid at first then accelerated to a pace with which she could hardly keep up.
Vaguely, she was aware of herself moaning, but she lacked the ability to monitor or control how loud she cried. When the pressure started building, she tried to squirm and crawl back up the table.
It was too big and too intense, she realized, but Matthew would not let her get away. “Oh,” she cried and then screamed as she tried to brace herself.
However, there was nothing she could’ve done to prepare herself for the earth-shattering explosion that detonated from one deft stroke of Matthew’s tongue.
Chanté discovered a new octave as blinding lights flashed behind her closed eyelids. Shortly after, she struggled for breath and gripped the sides of the table. She arched her body as high she could, trying to break the intimate kiss, but Matthew stood with his tongue still delving deep inside of her, driving her insane.
The pressure began to build again and the squirming and twisting became mindless. She wanted to beg for time to catch her breath, but somehow she’d forgotten how to speak. All she could manage were senseless moans and orgasmic cries. In the next second, another orgasm slammed into her and sent her soaring through an endless sky.
“Baby?”
A lazy smile drifted across Chanté’s lips. “Hmm?”
“How do you feel?”
“Like water,” she murmured truthfully. Nothing in the world would convince her that he hadn’t drained her of muscle and bone.
Her husband’s soft laughter danced through the air like music.
She was unaware of being lifted from the massage table, but she was aware of being placed onto the bed’s silk sheets.
“I think I’ve come to a decision,” Matthew said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He nibbled on her ear. “I love chocolate.”
She giggled and lolled her head away.
“Of course,” he said, reaching across her. “We could always try the strawberry.”
Chapter 14
The next morning, Chanté woke with a smile as wide as a football field and a body completely rejuvenated. Memories from the previous night began to spin lazily inside her head and she released a moan of contentment as she leaned back against Matthew.
Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled when her eyes met her husband’s. “Good morning,” she whispered.
“That it certainly is.” He kissed the tip of her nose and continued to hold her in their spoon position. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that kind of smile on your face.”
She twisted around so she could lie on her back and stare up at him. “You know, you’re smiling, too, and you wouldn’t let me—”
“You weren’t supposed to.” He kissed her. “Last night was your night. Of course, it shames me to say that after years of training, I never thought to do that for you on my own, to just give a whole night dedicated to you. What does that say about me?”
“That you’re not a mind reader,” she offered. “You had no idea I was unhappy until I kicked you out of our bedroom. Then I was a crazy woman.”
“Amen to that.”
“Hey!” She gave his chest a playful shove. “I wasn’t the only one who flew over the cuckoo’s nest. You’re buying me a new car and replacing every shoe you destroyed in my closet.”
Matthew laughed and rolled over onto his back. “I really did lose it, didn’t I?”
Chanté now moved onto her side and ran a finger down the length of his chest. “I don’t ever want us to get like that again.”
“You know, I always said that if we had a child—”
She groaned and also rolled onto her back.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled, but it was clearly a lie.
Matthew launched back onto his side and took a cue from her by drifting his own finger up her chest and then around her breasts. “That was not a nothing. That was clearly something.”
She shook her head, but a thin sheen of tears coated her eyes.
“C’mon, talk to me. We’re supposed to be starting over, remember?”
Chanté didn’t speak for a long moment, but her husband was determined to wait it out. “It’s just that you’re always talking about children and...” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s not in the cards for us. Maybe we’re just not meant to be parents.”
He took her hand in his. “Look, I know that we had our difficulties conceiving, but there are a lot of options we haven’t even tried yet. Now that your book is such a success, I was hoping that you would let the radio station go...”
She pulled her hand away and rolled out of bed.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“It’s nine o’clock. We have a ten o’clock class and we haven’t taken a shower or had breakfast yet.”
“We also weren’t finished talking,” he pointed out.
“No, no. You’re right.” She shrugged again. “We still have a lot of options.” Chanté flashed him a smile and trotted off to the bathroom where she closed the door firmly behind her.
Matthew fell back against the pillows, wondering what in the hell had just happened. Whatever it was, he guessed that it was somehow his fault. Maybe it was one of those times he should follow Seth’s advice and just apologize.
Groaning, he fell back against the pillows. Would he ever understand his own wife?
In the bathroom, Chanté turned on the shower, but she didn’t immediately step inside the tub. Instead, she reached for her cache case and pulled out her morning pills. At the sink, she cupped a handful of water and used it to wash the pills down.
When she was done, she stared at her blurring reflection in the mirror. “Quit my job,” she mumbled under her breath. “Why does his dream mean I have to give up what’s important to me?”
And why can’t I just tell him the truth?
She shook her head and turned away from the mirror. Standing beneath the steady stream from the showerhead, Chanté continued to grapple with the question until she heard the shower curtain slide on its rail.
Matthew stepped in behind her wearing a wide smile. “Care if I join you?”
It was just on the tip of her tongue to tell him that it was a free country when she realized that she needed to check herself. Her husband was doing his best to make this four-day excursion work. The least she could do was meet him halfway.
“Actually, it looks like you arrived just in time to help me with my back.” She winked.
“As you wish.” Matthew grinned and took the loofah from her hand.
She turned and waited while he squirted more liquid soap onto the loofah and then smiled when he began scrubbing her back.
“Uhm, about what happened in the bedroom,” Matthew started awkwardly. “I’m sorry if I said something that upset you.” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking and, you know, you really don’t have to quit your job if you don’t want to. I know how much you love it at the station. I was just making a suggestion.”
This was the second time in two days that Matthew had apologized and it still had the effect of hav
ing the rug pulled out from beneath her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Matthew stepped forward so that her soapy back pressed against his chest. “I just want to do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
Tears sprang to her eyes at the complete sincerity in his voice. Tell him.
Chanté turned around with the full intent to tell him the truth, but one look in his handsome face, and she simply couldn’t do it.
“We’ll get pregnant again,” Matthew said. “And I’m willing to wait however long it takes.”
She twitched her lips into a smile and nodded her head like a good little girl. As her reward, Matthew leaned forward and gave her a kiss that nearly took her breath away.
* * *
Matthew and Chanté weren’t the only ones late for their morning workshop. Mable and Wilfred, as well as Seth and Edie tiptoed in more than thirty minutes late. Every woman had a certain glow about them that wasn’t there the day before, while every man held their chest about three inches higher.
Dr. Gardner, dressed in a bright sun-yellow gown, moved about the room as she lectured about the importance of soul gazing.
“I want everyone to turn on their pillows and face their partners,” Gardner instructed.
Matthew and Chanté complied, folding their legs into the Indian position.
“Now, for the next twenty minutes, all I want you to do is stare into each other’s eyes. I know it will seem awkward maybe even silly at first, but this exercise is to get you into the practice of truly connecting with your partner. We’ve all heard the phrase ‘The eyes are the windows to the soul.’ You need to go beyond just eye color, you need to connect with the soul.”
Dr. Gardner was right, Chanté felt silly just staring at her husband. And for the first five minutes, they did little more than give each other goofy smiles.
“Now concentrate on calm, even breathing as you continue soul gazing,” the doctor said.
Again, Chanté did as she was told and after a few deep breaths something happened. Her husband’s dark gaze somehow felt like an industrial magnet that pulled her into its depth. She grew lightheaded but comfortable at the same time.
Sighing in contentment, Chanté suddenly felt loved. But a renegade question as to whether she was worthy of his love and trust derailed her soul gazing and brought her out of her trance.
“Very good, class.” Dr. Gardner clapped her hands together. “How do you feel?”
The crowd murmured different answers while Matthew leaned forward. “That was sort of weird how that worked.”
Chanté agreed and returned her attention to the instructor. The class went on to learn the Yab Yum position—where the man sits cross-legged and the female sits on top of his legs and wraps her legs around his waist. Keeping the Yab Yum position, they learned how to transfer each other’s sexual energy by leaning close to soul gaze and synchronize their breathing.
By the end of the class, Matthew and Chanté felt less like educated doctors and more like flower children from the sixties.
“How are you liking it so far?” Edie asked Chanté as they sat down for lunch.
“I—it’s definitely different,” she answered, glancing over at her husband.
“Forget that,” Matthew cut in. “I feel like a kid in a candy store.”
“You and me both,” Seth snickered. “Who knew a woman had so many sex buttons to push?”
“Or that you could push them all in one night,” Matthew volleyed.
“Duh,” Chanté and Edie intoned together and then slapped each other a high-five.
The men rolled their eyes but knew better than to continue with the touchy subject.
After lunch, the men and women were once again split up, this time to learn different techniques to awaken and honor the god and goddess within them. Overall, Chanté thought it was a fun class and made a mental note to do more research on the subject for possible future books.
“Now’s the time for us to discuss this evening’s homework.” Dr. Gardner beamed at the crowd of excited women.
In response, everyone clapped, except for Mable who shouted, “Bring it on.”
“Your assignment, ladies, is to give your partner the best night of his life. Last night, you were just the receiver. Tonight, you will cultivate your natural instincts and become the giver. It’s important that you become subservient to his needs. Reassure him that you are there to please him and he does not have to do anything in return. Any questions?”
Everyone shook their heads, but Chanté was already experiencing a mild case of panic. Being an independent woman and always an equal partner in the bedroom, the word “subservient” made her nervous.
“You’re obsessing again,” Edie said, cutting into her thoughts.
“No, I’m not.”
Edie lifted a dubious brow.
“All right, so I was. Sue me.”
“What’s the matter? I thought that you were having fun?”
“I was—I—I mean, I am.” She shook her head. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m just making things harder than they need to be—as usual.” She sighed. “You know, it’s not easy realizing that the biggest problem in my marriage is me.”
Edie cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
Chanté’s talk with her husband that morning flashed through her mind. “Nothing. Forget it. I can do this.”
“Well,” Edie said, swinging her arm around her shoulders. “Speaking as your friend and not your editor, I’m really happy to see you and Matthew giving this an honest try. As crazy and neurotic as you both are I truly believe that you two are soul mates.”
Chanté smiled and also swung her arm around Edie’s shoulders. “Despite your lying and scheming, you’re the best friend a girl could ever ask for.”
“Well said,” Edie boasted. “Now what do you say we go and give our husbands a night they’ll never forget?”
“Separately, right?”
“Of course,” Edie laughed.
“In that case, you’re on.”
Chapter 15
Matthew couldn’t concentrate on the flow of conversation around him during the men’s networking hour. Various scenarios of what awaited him had Matt Jr. throbbing painfully against his thigh.
“You’re panting like a dog that hasn’t had a bone in two years,” Seth joked, handing his friend a Heineken. “Calm down, Cujo.”
Matt frowned. “Didn’t Cujo have rabies?”
“Well, I was going to say Lassie, but she was a girl. At least Cujo would explain your foaming at the mouth.”
“I’m just a little anxious. What time is it?” He glanced at his watch.
“I’m guessing two minutes later than the last time you asked,” Seth chuckled.
“Very funny.” Matt rolled his eyes because it was exactly two minutes later. He took a swig of his beer. “I have to tell you, man. This trip saved my marriage.” He held his friend’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank my lovable scheming wife. Frankly, I thought this whole thing would blow up in our faces and I would have lost my best client. I still can’t believe it worked.”
“Well, so far so good.” He looked around. “You know, I should do an exposé on this place and others like it. I’m loving what this whole place is about.”
“I’ll get on it.”
As the hour ticked on at an excruciating pace, Matthew noted that he wasn’t the only man glancing at his watch every minute on the minute. When Dr. Dae Kim jingled a gold bell to draw the men’s attention, he made sure to stay away from the door in case of a stampede.
Turns out, there nearly was one and Matthew wasn’t ashamed to be the leader of the pack. By the time he reached his private lodge, he was a rocket ready for blastoff.
Calm down. Take a deep breath. He barely tapped the door. The door opened, but his wife wasn’t in view. His heart thumped against his chest as he crossed the threshold.
When the door closed behind him, he turned ar
ound and then blinked in surprise to see his wife in a sheer white gown. He could see every curve of her body.
“Welcome, my love. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“And I’ve been going crazy waiting for this moment.”
Chanté smiled, but kept her head lowered. “Would you like for me to take off your shoes?”
Matthew pressed his big toe against the heel of his shoes and kicked them off one at a time. “What shoes?” He then pulled his shirt off over his head, unbuckled his pants and rushed toward her.
This time Chanté couldn’t help but laugh and she had to press her hands against his chest to stop him from jumping her bones right then and there. “Slow down, baby,” she cooed up at him.
His pants slid off his hips and hit the floor.
She stifled a laugh at his eagerness. “We have all night.”
Was it going to take all night to get to the good part? “Yes. Yes. You’re right.” He smiled painfully.
“Good.” Chanté beamed a smile at him. “I prepared something for you in the living room.” She started to walk off and then stopped. “Uh, would you like to see it?”
Matthew understood the slip. His wife was not the submissive type, which made him appreciate the effort she was putting into this. “I would love to see it.” He stepped out of the pants pooled at his feet and followed her, wearing only his boxers and socks.
She nodded slyly and then escorted him into the living room area. Just like the night before the place was littered with candles, but instead of the clean floral scents, these candles gave the room a more cinnamon and spice smell. On the room’s portable radio was the unmistakable music of Miles Davis.
“Would you like to sit down?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He settled onto the leather sofa like a king on a throne. Only then did he notice the spread of food on the large, square coffee table.
“Uhm.” She cleared her throat. “I was sort of hoping you’d like to sit on one of the velvet cushions.” She gestured to the ones on the other end of the table.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” He shot back on his feet and raced over to the cushions.
Chanté took a deep breath and tried to remain in character.
Valentine's Fantasy: When Valentines CollideTo Love Again Page 9
