by Tamara Lush
“Maybe tomorrow I’ll spend the day with Charlotte somewhere and you can sleep in. Or do whatever. Take the day for yourself. You deserve it.” His voice was soft. Kind. A little smile danced on his lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled. I remembered that he was not only a hot forty-three, but possibly the most distinguished-looking middle-aged guy this side of George Clooney, and smiled.
“Were you reading my mind?”
“Maybe.”
We looked at each other, and a familiar sexual spark ignited. At least for me it did.
“I think I’m going to shower and then head to bed,” I said softly. As much as I wanted to kiss him, I wasn’t sure if my shaky emotions could handle it.
He bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Okay. Goodnight.”
Taking a step forward, I brushed a soft kiss on his cheek, then hesitated, sucking in a breath and his scent. “Sweet dreams.”
In my bathroom, I stripped down and blasted the overhead rain-like showerhead in the middle of the glass-and-marble stall. The hot water poured down on me and I closed my eyes.
Bliss.
The shower had become my refuge in recent months. Although Caleb had renovated the big space long before I moved in, it was, in many ways, my favorite spot in the condo. The marble had silver veins running through the smooth white rock, and there was a wide, white marble seat on one end. The whole glass enclosure also doubled as a steam room.
I exhaled out a sigh, loud. Like I’d done in yoga classes. I envisioned the tension leaving my body. I exhaled again with a long haaaaaaaa sound and allowed my head to dip back so the water beat down on my chest.
When I heard the doorknob of the bathroom, my shoulders tensed. I couldn’t see out of the glass because of the steam, but I held my breath. The sound of the door closing made me shiver.
It was Caleb. I could feel him.
He opened the shower door and stepped in. He was naked. I watched as he stepped toward me, the water streaming down his muscles. God, his muscles. Before he’d left, he’d had a hint of a stomach. Now he had a six-pack.
My pulse jackhammered so hard that I could feel it on my wrists and my neck and between my legs. Especially between my legs.
I stood half under the hot water, blinking and slicking back my wet hair with my hands. I think my mouth was hanging open because I was about to say something. What, I wasn’t sure.
I thought he’d pause to say something, do something, look at me. But he didn’t. Instead, he cupped my face in his hands and assaulted my lips with his. Need sliced through me and I slipped my hands onto his chest, feeling his cock against my stomach. We kissed and kissed, the water and our saliva mingling, making everything slippery and urgent.
He broke from my mouth to press his lips against my forehead. By this time, I was panting.
“Sit,” he murmured, guiding me to the marble shelf. I sank onto it, but the coolness of the stone didn’t quench the heat on my skin. It made me shudder. He turned the water off, so the only sound in the stall was the water flowing down the drain. And my ragged breathing.
Caleb knelt before me. “Come closer to the edge.”
I did, and he gently parted my legs, all the while looking into my eyes.
“Of all the fantasies—or memories, I guess—I’ve had in the last few days, this is the one I’ve had the most. Licking you. I want to make you come. I want to feel you come.”
He leaned forward, into me. I gasped when his tongue made contact with my soaking wetness, swirling around my clit lazily. And around. And around. He paused and looked up as he slid a finger inside of me.
“Fucking beautiful,” he whispered.
My eyes fluttered when he dipped his head again, twirling and swirling his tongue at a quicker pace. He slipped a second finger inside of me and I whimpered an indecipherable word.
He moaned, and I put my hands on his head, urging him into me. When he sucked at my clit with his lips, that’s when I came. Hard. Spasms wracked my body, and I gasped over and over, my noises echoing in the shower stall. I came and came, in ripples and waves, until it was finally too much.
I stilled his head, tugging at his short hair, and squirmed so my back was flush with the marble wall.
“Too sensitive now,” I gasped, closing my eyes. I could feel the moist heat of Caleb’s body near mine, then his mouth. He kissed me softly, and I opened my eyes.
“Did that help relax you?” A lazy smile spread on his lips.
I laughed in response. “Something like that.” I brushed my thumb over his mouth. “Now it’s my turn. Stand up. Under the shower.”
He looked a little puzzled but obeyed. I turned on the shower, not as hot as it had been, but warm. Once he was under the water, I squeezed a handful of my coconut-scented body wash into my palm and smeared it on my breasts. His cock twitched as he watched me. With my skin still slick from the soap, I rubbed against him, standing on my tiptoes so I could devour his mouth.
I eased myself down, dragging my breasts and skin against his as the water fell softly over his back. When I was on my knees, I looked up.
He smoothed back my hair and groaned. I grinned. “Step back a little, so the water falls on me,” I murmured.
He did, and I took his cock into my mouth. This was something he had loved—me giving him head in the shower, alternately sucking and allowing the water to wash over me. Wash over his cock, sluice over my face, and into my mouth as I devoured him.
His cock was exactly the same as before he went to Brazil. Diamond hard, long and heavy on my tongue. He groaned my name and a zing of satisfaction went through me.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he ground out.
I stopped sucking and cupped his balls a little, gave a tiny squeeze. He groaned again. I bit my lip and stared up at him.
“Are we still waiting?”
He nodded slowly, wrapping his hand around the back of my head and guiding me toward his erection.
“Put your mouth back on my cock. Please.”
Something about the way he sounded—desperate—sent a surge between my legs. I allowed my hand to slip to my clit and touched myself as he gripped my hair and orchestrated the rhythm of my mouth.
When I moaned another orgasm into his cock, he groaned loud, and I felt him pulse. Then, hot liquid spurts in the back of my mouth. He clutched my hair with both hands.
He groaned my name again.
I rose and stood before him, every inch of my skin electric, kinetic. This would normally be the time I would tell him I loved him. But not tonight.
So I rested my forehead gently against this chest, and he put his arms around me. We stood like that for long minutes, unmoving, under the rainfall shower.
“I’m exhausted,” I muttered. “I need to sleep.”
I turned off the shower, and Caleb opened his mouth, then closed it. Did he want to sleep next to me? I nearly asked him, pleaded with him. But I stopped myself. I wouldn’t beg him. He needed to come to my bed on his own. After all, I still had a shred of pride.
He shot me a hesitant look, then exited the shower. I followed and we toweled off together in awkward silence. He wrapped a towel around his waist.
“G’night,” he said, roughly, leaning to kiss me hard.
He walked out of the bathroom, and I stood, naked and still wet. Reluctance, relief, and triumph mixed in my mind.
This was confusing, the seduction of my husband.
* * *
For the rest of the week, life settled into a routine laced with a hazy, sexual tension. We glided along, caring for Charlotte, going on picnics, laughing, even.
Flirting.
But below the surface, the sexual edge, the wanting, simmered. Hours were infused with desire. Every chance we had, we were like teenagers. We flung ourselves on top of each other and sucked and stroked and kissed madly. It was sublime, but also frustrating as hell.
We still weren’t sleeping in the same bed. Which was also frustrating. But at least it felt like we were moving t
oward normalcy.
After long hours of kissing and orgasms, we each went to our own rooms. I respected his wishes and didn’t ask for more. It had only been a couple of weeks since he’d gotten home—how could I expect him to jump back into the life of a married man?
One morning, though, he slipped into my bedroom, waking me with kisses and little bites on bare skin before Charlotte rose.
“We could do it,” I whispered as he trailed his mouth between my breasts. “We could just ….”
“God knows I want to fuck. Roll over on your stomach.”
I did and he hoisted me onto all fours. Caleb was behind me, fingering me. I looked over my shoulder and saw him tugging on his cock. I wiggled my ass in his direction.
“It’s really hot, waiting,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers.
“I can’t disagree.” I grinned. “But can you please continue doing what you were? Because that felt excellent.”
“I’ve got something better. Lie on your back.”
I did and opened my legs.
“Your pussy is beautiful. Have I told you that?”
“You have,” I murmured as his fingers slipped inside of me. He brushed my clit with his thumb.
“Caleb?” I gasped after my rapid-fire orgasm. He grinned and moved up to kiss me.
“Yes, Emma?”
“Of all the things you’ve forgotten, you didn’t forget how to make me come.”
“Lucky you,” he murmured. “Because I want to make you come. A lot.”
But was I lucky? Of all the things my husband could have remembered about me, were orgasms the most important thing?
I pondered this off and on until we went to the therapist later that day. We sat close on the loveseat in Dr. Santamaria’s office and held hands. We had the last appointment of the day, at six p.m.
We first talked about my anger over Caleb’s long absence. I thought he’d let go of my fingers, but instead, he squeezed them hard as I spoke. As if to give me strength to express myself.
“I felt like I had no one to turn to. Well, no one but your brother.” When I saw a flash in Caleb’s blue eyes, I followed up quickly with, “And your sister. And Sarah, of course.”
Caleb nodded. “I feel guilty about that. I feel guilty that I put you through hell. And maybe put Charlotte through hell in some way, too. I worry that it will affect her later in life. It’s so strange since I also feel like I met you both only recently. I have guilt about people I should know, but don’t.”
“It’s all so stupidly complicated,” I mumbled.
Dr. Santamaria nodded. “That’s the hurdle you two have to face. But you’re doing an excellent job expressing your feelings so far.”
I scowled. I felt guilty, too. Since Caleb and I had been connecting on a sexual level, I’d lately wondered whether I should tell him about my night with his brother in Miami. If Caleb and I were going to survive, we had to be honest with each other. I had to be open with him about everything.
Maybe I needed to ask Dr. Santamaria in private first about how I should approach the topic. I’d email him later.
“Well. You both look happier this week than last.”
My scowl bloomed into a grin. “When can we—”
Caleb interrupted. “—have sex?”
We both laughed.
“Yes. Anytime. If you’re both feeling comfortable with it.”
Caleb’s head dipped back, and he exhaled dramatically. “Oh thank God.”
We all laughed, and Dr. Santamaria said the session was over.
Everyone rose, and before we walked out the door, I turned. “Doctor, am I able to email you if I have questions during the week?”
“Emma, of course. Do you still have my card that I gave you? Here. Let me write it down again.”
As Dr. Santamaria clicked his pen and wrote his address, Caleb’s hand traveled down my back, sending tingles through my body. The doctor handed me his card, and I tucked it into my purse.
“You know, I’ll walk out with you. I’m leaving, too,” the doctor said.
It was dark when we got outside and waved goodbye to the doctor. He climbed into his car and we walked a few paces to Caleb’s Mercedes.
Caleb unlocked the car with the key fob, following me to the passenger side to open the door.
“Such a gentleman,” I murmured, tilting my head to kiss him. He groaned in response and grabbed my ass.
When he slid into the driver’s seat, closed his door, and started the ignition, something about the way his hand looked on the shifter made me speak up. An unbearable desire seized me.
“Wait.” I put my hand on Caleb’s. “Don’t drive off yet.”
Chapter 10
Caleb looked at me, expectant.
“Kiss me,” I demanded.
“Gladly.” He leaned in and pressed his mouth against mine, nipping my bottom lip. Angling his body toward me, he slipped his left hand under the hem of my dress. I parted my legs a little.
I pulled his face closer, feeling out of control. I guess he felt the same way, because his hand moved up my legs and cupped my sex roughly.
“Jesus, your panties are already wet,” he whispered.
I nodded, staring into his blue eyes. We continued to gaze at each other as he slipped his hand between the fabric and my skin. I gasped when his fingers found their way into my slit and I looked around nervously. The feelings that welled in my core were intense, forbidden, necessary.
His middle finger slipped easily between my lower lips, raking against my clit. “Emma, we’re the only ones in the parking lot. And we’ve got tinted windows. Don’t worry.”
That was all I needed to hear. I stripped off my panties and practically hurled myself on top of him.
“I don’t want to wait any longer,” I breathed.
“That’s perfectly fine by me.” He grinned, moving the seat back to give us more room. We awkwardly fumbled around, arranging my full skirt around his lap, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He loosened his tie. We were laughing and panting and kissing all at once. I wondered if somehow I’d mash my butt against the horn and our sexytimes would turn into a farce, like a bad sitcom.
“This car looks big until you try to fuck in it,” he muttered. I giggled, straddling him and taking his face in my hands. “I can’t wait any longer to feel you inside of me. And Charlotte might not go to bed for hours.”
“Right,” I added, moving my skirts so they covered us. “Waiting would be agony.”
As I kissed him, I sank onto his erection and we both groaned in tandem. His cock was hot and perfect, filling me with familiarity and sheer bliss.
“Jesus, Emma, this is better than I dreamed. You. You’re a perfect fit for me. Incredible.” His grin was wicked.
But this was no time to analyze words. I fucked him hard. Bit his neck. He squeezed my ass, digging his fingers into my skin until I yelped. He moved me, orchestrated my body, pumped me up and down his cock in controlled motions due to the constrained space of the car. This was sublime, the two of us hungering for each other in tandem.
“You’re going to fuck me harder,” he commanded.
“Yes,” I breathed. “I am.”
He growled. We kissed, and I devoured his mouth, clinging to his bottom lip with my teeth. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled back, crushing his mouth to the side of my neck until I felt sharp stings on the back of my head from where he pulled and on the skin where he’d bit me.
I came apart, crying out when I climaxed. It was a blunt force that shattered my body, made every muscle in my body tighten.
And then sweet release.
He made no noise when he came, just squeezed his eyes shut and then let out a long, shuddering exhale.
I collapsed onto him, my lips at his forehead. His arms encircled my waist.
“Amazing,” he whispered.
“I know. I know.” I blinked quickly several times, trying to regain my equilibrium. God, it was good to be close to my husban
d like that again. It satisfied something primitive in me.
But there was something missing. What was it? I kissed his cheek, and when he didn’t kiss me back, I knew what it was.
The post-sex intimacy. Caleb had his arms around me still, and his nose was pressed to my neck. His breathing was ragged. Before, he’d always kissed me on my mouth or my cheek or somewhere after sex.
Now, nothing.
But I couldn’t read too much into that, could I? Not for our first time since he returned.
“I’m going to move now,” I whispered.
“Probably a good idea, since I can’t drive like this.” He laughed softly and so did I.
With more awkward shifting of clothes and limbs, I catapulted back into my seat and stuffed my panties into my purse. As he drove home, he raked his hand through his hair.
“It smells like sex in here.” He chuckled. I loved the playful look on his face. Hadn’t seen it in so long. I needed to give him more time to get back to normal. That was all.
Still riding the aftereffects of our orgasms, we murmured a hello to the concierge and rode the elevator to the penthouse, kissing along the way. As always, Sarah and Laura were watching Charlotte—they’d agreed to during all of our therapy sessions.
When we walked in, Charlotte was in her high chair and Laura was feeding her what appeared to be some sort of vegetable puree judging by the green smears on my child’s cheeks.
“How is my babykins?” With glee, I kissed the top of Charlotte’s head. Glancing up, I saw Laura staring at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Your hair. What happened? Is there a hurricane outside or something?”
I patted my curls and realized that I’d been in such a post-sex fog that I hadn’t even noticed it was flying everywhere. I cleared my throat. Laura shifted her glance to Caleb, and I did as well.
Red lipstick stained his neck and the collar of his white shirt, and now that I scrutinized him, he also looked uncharacteristically disheveled. His lips were a deep red. A delicious color, because it meant he was kiss-stung by me.
