by Lovell, Dani
“No…” he grumbles, quietly.
“Yes. But you stay in bed, you look so comfy and if you don’t actually need to go in today - I wouldn’t. Maybe I’ll pop in at lunch time to see you.”
“You want me to drive you there?” he asks, even though it’s only a few minutes walk away.
“No, thank you, darling. You stay in bed, I’ll walk - it’s just down the road.”
“Oh…okay. Hug me goodbye, then?” he asks, making me smile, and of course, you can’t possible say no to Oliver when he’s being so cute, so I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press my lips against his neck.
He hoists me up on top of him, unexpectedly, and rolls over until I’m on my back with him above me, leaning up on his elbow. I giggle. “I do have to go, Oliver.”
“I know… but you’re the boss… be a bit late. Don’t you want something sweet?” he asks, running his eyes down my body as he glides his hand down to my crotch and presses against me firmly.
I squirm a little, enjoying it too much. “Oh… I’d love something sweet… but I have to get to work.”
“In a minute…” he says, leaning down to kiss my neck seductively as he skilfully works his hand over the top of my trousers.
“I… mmm…”
“Exactly.”
He continues to kiss me perfectly like that while his fingers move rhythmically in circles. I tilt my head to allow him further access and rest my hands on his hard body to savour the feel of his perfect, soft skin. I glide them over his ridged stomach, brushing my nails through the hair on his lower belly and push one hand lower until it touches the very base of his hard, tempting erection. I sigh, succumbing to his very persuasive technique and slip my hand around to the underside to take the sensitive duo in my palm, lightly caressing, increasing my excitement, tenfold.
He groans loudly, slowly bringing his hand higher to the button of my capris and yanking it open. I really shouldn’t be doing this, I should be going to work… I should stop… the… mmm…
He moves his lips from my neck to my collar bone, lightly licking as he kisses. He lowers the zip on my trousers and I raise my hips to help him push them down my thighs. He leaves them there so as not to abandon my kissed skin and he slowly pushes his hands inside the top of my knickers, his fingers searching as they brush through my small patch of pubic hair to move lower.
I release his delicate family jewels in need of their solid partner in crime, ‘The Rod’. It’s such a turn on to feel how ready he is for me… again. I run my hand up and down him, feeling his shiny, thick head ready to push inside my body at any moment, and the perfect length, throbbing for me. Me.
As he works his fingers around me, I arch backwards, moaning as I keep a tight hold on him, and I wrap my spare hand around the back of his neck to keep his lips against me. He begins to move, edging his way lower down my body with his lips until I have to release him, reluctantly; my hand bereft.
He kisses over my t-shirt until he gets to my belly, where he pushes it up and over my chest, exposing my boobs in my sexy, ‘Boux Avenue’ satin lingerie. You’ve got to make an effort when you’ve got a hot husband to come home to… you know?
He groans loudly as he lifts the cups over my boobs, and clamps one of my hardened nipples in his mouth, causing me to gasp out loud. “Yeah…” he mumbles, nipple-in-mouth, “is that good? You like me biting and licking on your incredible body, don’t you?”
“Mmm hmm…” My head thrown back and into the pillow and my legs automatically opening as wide as they can with the trousers still clamping my thighs.
“I love tasting you… I love feeling that amazing soft skin under my hands and my tongue,” he says, moving further down my body, massaging my skin with his strong hands as he caresses me.
He tugs my knickers down a little and presses his full lips to my hip bone, kissing and licking sensually. Moving across that soft, lower part of my tummy, right above my pubic bone, he groans impatiently and forces his hands underneath my buttocks, squeezing and raising me up, bringing me to his face.
“Oh god, yes…” I cry, loving his strength and sexual power; the way he squeezes my buttocks like that, so forceful and dominant, without being overly rough. God, I love it… and I have a lifetime to live it.
“I want you,” he mumbles.
“Good… you’ve got me.”
He growls as he sits back and tears my trousers and knickers down my legs and tosses them to the floor before moving backwards and stilling, pressing his hands into the flesh of my inner thighs and simply gazing at my… um… there. “Hot… so fucking hot…” he whispers before bending down, lowering his face to me and ever so gently kissing those other lips… right at the very top, just below my landing strip - reminding me that I need to book my next wax. Thank god I don’t need it just yet, I’d never let him down there with a big, seventies, hairy beaver - and I want this so much, I’d hate to have had to deter him.
His hot breath against my sensitive parts sends a shiver right through me and as he reaches out his tongue to slowly brush all the way from my lowest part, right up to my clitoris, his tongue hot and deliciously wet. I writhe in the bed and reach my hands down to thread my fingers through his soft, short hair as his face works with my naughty bits.
He makes a deep, caveman style grunt in his throat, lapping and kissing before making me shudder violently by sucking on my clitoris and flicking from side to side with his incredible tongue. “Oh god!” I shout, loud enough for the neighbours to think I’d broken a toe or something, and immediately he changes direction with his tongue, this time moving up and down with a ripple effect, and of course - I whimper again, my legs bending either side of his face while my hands make fists in his hair, pulling hard.
My obvious excitement spurs him on and he moves fervently, eagerly anticipating my climax which is coming at me like a freight train. I look down to watch him enjoying me, working to pleasure me and he takes one hand from my thigh and slides it along the bed, under my leg and up at the other side, inviting me to touch hands. I don’t even know is it’s even possible to swoon at mega-force and feel your heart swell at the same time as an orgasm makes its express journey to the surface, but if so - that’s exactly what happens.
I release his hair and immediately lace my fingers between his, gripping his hand hard and dropping my head back into the pillow as it comes, the feeling of love and togetherness from his tender gesture and the sexual excitement hitting hard come together to form the most incredible, most powerful explosion.
As the waves build to their peak and I cry out, desperately. His tongue eases to a gentle, slow stroke, his lips clamped over me, helping savour the mind-blowing ecstasy; prolonging my delight.
“Jesus!” I cry out, loudly, my body arching, exaggeratedly, my toes curled tightly. He groans, sexily, as he lowers his tongue and dips it inside, tasting everything I can give him, soothing the spasms that thunder through my muscles.
“Oh god, Oliver…” I moan again as my body relaxes back into the bed, my heart thumping. “You’re so good…”
He chuckles as he continues to slip his tongue inside me, enjoying my pleasure almost as much as I did. “Mmm,” he groans, “I love this, your body is… it’s perfect.”
He slowly releases my leg and hand and plants a very soft kiss against me before crawling back up the bed and over me, my bra still pushed up above my boobs along with my t-shirt.
“I thought you had to get to work…” he says with a smirk and I raise my eyebrow at him, sarcastically.
“I do… I did…”
“Did? Will you stay here? With me?”
“Oliver…” I sigh, “don’t you want me to make lots of money and bring home the bacon?”
“Earn what you like, baby, I don’t care what you bring to the table, I just want you.”
I grin. “That may be so, but I am me, and I will be bringing home the bacon, just as you will be, but I won’t be able to do that if you keep pleasuring me into submissi
on while I’m on my way out of the door.”
“You’ll have to get stronger then, won’t you. Besides, you’re still earning, one more day off won’t make any difference to you - they’ll be expecting you to have a day off for jet lag, surely?”
“Yes, they are, but I wanted to go in.”
“Okay…” he responds with a pout, “I won’t distract you anymore.”
I roll my eyes and smile in defeat, knowing that my mind has changed since. “But my t-shirt is all creased now…” I say, looking down at my chest and lowering my bra back over my boobs.
“It definitely is. You’ll need to change that,” he says, kissing the full flesh exposed at the top of my bra cup.
“I will,” I say, pulling it over my head and tossing it on the floor before laying back down on the pillow. “Or, just not.”
His eyes widen and he grins, expectantly. “So…”
“So… I can’t be bothered. I want to stay here with my new man.”
He wraps his arms around me and buries his head in my neck, mumbling against my skin. “Good! Your new husband loves that.”
“But we can’t sleep, Oliver, okay?”
“Okay. Let’s get ready and go out; have our first outing back at home as a couple.”
“Ooh, sounds fun!”
And it really, really does. I imagine the day we could have together; driving in the car, smiling and laughing, maybe a nice pub lunch on the river somewhere, a stroll, hand-in-hand where no one knows us, relaxing on his sofas, talking… Oh, it will be so romantic and fun.
With each passing hour, I seem to be getting more and more excited by the prospect of doing ‘together’ things with him, by knowing I’ll be with him forever, knowing we’re working together for something that is going to make us so very, very happy. And I realise just how much I love him, how desperately I need him in my life and how incredibly lucky I am to be able to hold him and call him mine. In private, anyway. I’d love to go back to my tortured, heartbroken teenage years and offer poor, sad Clare a snippet of her future, a brief motion picture of what is in store for her, one day.
I quickly change into my skinny jeans and a floaty, white blouse, and then enjoy a potter around the kitchen as Oliver gets himself ready. I set the table with two plates of Marmite on toast, coffee, juice and a big bowl of chopped fruit. As I place the bowl in the centre, the doorbell rings, so having mentally confirmed that I would have opened his front door pre-secret marriage and presuming it’s the postman, I walk out in my bare feet from the cold tiled floor of the kitchen through the plush hallway carpet to the door, having the foresight to remove my wedding band - just in case.
When I open the door, a huge twang of guilt unexpectedly strikes me and relief at my earlier foresight, as Oliver’s mother, Emily, offers an enormous, loving smile. “Good morning, darling!” she cries, stepping inside and hugging me, tightly. “Did you have a fabulous time? I wasn’t expecting to see you, you look beautiful, darling, the California sun agrees with you, too!”
I giggle, “Thank you. Yes, it was wonderful, I’m sad to be back.”
“I bet you are, but excited to get back into the Cakery?” she asks as she walks with me through to the kitchen.
“Yeah, though I’m suffering with the jet lag today so I’ve decided not to go in.”
“And that’s why you’re here? Oliver not going to work either?”
I blink a couple of times, preparing to tell a lie before realising that it’s the truth really, in an evasive kind of way. “Yes, we thought we’d be able to keep each other company and refrain from sleeping this way.”
“Good idea, good idea. Where is he anyway?”
“Oh, he’s in the shower, I think - or getting ready.”
“Okay, I’m only popping in on my way to the post office so I’ll quickly pop up and say ‘hello’.”
I nod and smile before suddenly realising that - holy shit, my stuff is up there! His room is filled with my clothes and toiletries! “Oh…” I say, quickly, trying to think of something, “he’ll be down in a minute, why don’t you have a cup of coffee with me while I eat breakfast, fill me in on what you and Edward have been up to while we’ve been away…”
She turns on her way out of the doorway, looking at her watch and smiles, “Um… I’m sure I can go a little later than planned, good idea. He’ll be down to join us any minute no doubt, or his toast will be cold.”
“Exactly,” I say, thanking the Universe for looking out for me, I’d hate for her to find out that something is going on between us by finding my knickers strewn across his bedroom floor.
We sit together at the table and within a couple of minutes, I hear Oliver trotting down the stairs merrily, so before he can make some comment about where his ‘wife’ is - which I can predict, with almost certainty - I shout out to him. “Hey, Oliver! Look who came to see her favourite boy…”
As he steps into the kitchen, he offers his mum the most handsome, loving smile. “Mum, what a nice surprise.”
She stands up to embrace him and as they do, he looks at me with raised eyebrows as if to say ‘phew! close one!’.
I point to his ring finger and he quickly slips his band off, behind Emily’s back.
“How was it? Clare says it was fantastic.”
“Yeah, it was great, and you would love that baby girl, Mum.”
“Don’t,” she says with her hands clutched at her chest, “I’ve told your father I want to fly over with Bea and Daniel next time, I feel like I have a grandchild that I haven’t met.”
“Well, as good as,” I say, knowing how close we all are to Bea and Oliver’s parents, “and she is named after you, after all.”
“I know!” she says, frowning as if she’s about to cry. “I just couldn’t believe it when Oliver called to tell me, what an absolute honour.”
“Emily, really - I think Tilly feels it an honour to be able to call her after you. You’d absolutely adore her though, she’s the tiniest little thing you’ve ever seen.”
“Oh! Do you have any pictures? I can’t bear it! Tilly and Bea sent a few but I need more.”
I realise that my phone is upstairs and I’d rather not have to admit to that, in order to be able to retrieve it, so I make up some codswallop like a deceiving, lying bitch about not knowing where my phone is, and luckily Oliver clocks on, taking his phone from his pocket to show her the few images of the baby that he has.
~~~~~~~
We eat breakfast and thoroughly enjoy Emily’s unexpected company, but she soon departs, having to return to her busy schedule, and I start to clean up the kitchen as Oliver walks her out to her car. I do feel like a hideous, rude, son-trapping whore. How dare I lie to her like that? This woman who has always gone over and above to support and care for me can’t even be respected enough for me to be truthful to. I married her son. The one and only wedding her little boy will ever have has been taken away from her. Oh dear. I don’t think this is going to be as plain sailing for my emotions as I had so recently hoped.
“Hey gorgeous girl,” he says, approaching me from behind as I stand at the dishwasher, staring out of the window, feeling awful.
“Hey, lovely man…” I say, quietly.
“What’s up?”
“Oh, Oliver,” I say, turning in his arms and clutching his chequered shirt at the waist, looking up at his face, “I just feel so terrible. I hate how I just lied to your mother. I feel awful about it… don’t you think we should have told her?”
“No…” he says softly, “don’t feel bad, sweetheart, she’ll be okay, she will understand.”
“I don’t think she will. I don’t think I’d be best pleased if my little boy ran off to Vegas and married some girl on a whim, keeping any family from witnessing their only boy’s only nuptials.”
He tilts his head to one said and runs the backs of his fingers up and down my cheek, tenderly. “You’re not just ‘some girl’. Please don’t worry about it - my mum isn’t all about her kids weddings. Yes, sh
e’s going to look forward to planning Bea’s big day, but she doesn’t live - looking forward to the day of her kids’ weddings. She wants us to be happy, and you know my mum - if I tell her that this is what makes me happy, she will be happy for me. And you, Clare. Please stop worrying yourself. This is for us. You and I. Anyone who loves us will understand that.”
I nod. He does make sense, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling terrible about lying to everyone, or withholding the truth… or whatever.
“Come on, I have an idea to get us out of the house. Let’s go out for a few hours and then come back and chill out before dinner time, tonight. I’ll make us something you’ll like and we’ll go to bed at about nine-ish. That way, work tomorrow will be a breeze. What do you say?”
I smile and release his shirt to wrap my arms around him. “I think there’s a reason I always thought of you as the perfect man.”
“Maybe because I am?” he says with a cheeky grin.
“You really are.”
I fetch my handbag and slip on my shoes before we leave the house and climb into Oliver’s machine. Once in the car, he prompts me to return my wedding band to its rightful place by doing so himself, and we set off. When I ask him where we’re going, he simply says ‘For a drive, you’ll see,” and so I sit, patiently and contentedly, waiting to arrive wherever it is he’s taking me.
It’s quite a long drive, but we finally arrive outside a tiny boutique in Marlow, and as Oliver turns off the engine, I look to him in question. He simply points to the shop and wiggles his wedding finger.
“Rings?” I ask, slightly confused.
“Definitely. Let’s go and look at something a bit more permanent.”
I smile, excitedly as I step out of the car and around to Oliver as he winks at me and makes a move towards the door. A very delicate sounding bell on the door shakes and rings as we step inside the quaint, beautifully decorated little shop.
