The Sex Bucket List

by Lane, Prescott

  “No,” he cries. “I just miss you.”

  I talk to him for a few minutes until he calms down. Mateo’s parents give me silent kisses on the cheek before they leave, and I mouth that I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude, but my kids come first. Given how they are with their own kids, I think they understand.

  Mateo whispers, “Take your time.”

  “Let me talk to your brother and sister,” I say.

  “Daddy wants to talk to you first,” Connor says. “Love you, bye.”

  “Love you.”

  “Emerson,” Ryan says, his voice harsh and cold, “I know you’re busy with Mateo, but for fuck’s sake, take a breather and pick up for your kids.”

  “I hope you didn’t just say that in front of them,” I say, causing Mateo to come over to me. He sits down beside me, rubbing my leg a little.

  “Of course, I didn’t,” Ryan says. “Unlike you, I care about how . . .”

  “Don’t you dare,” I bark and stand up. “When Ava caught you with that woman, I completely supported you. I expect the same damn thing from you.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Ryan says.

  I look into Mateo’s concerned eyes, knowing I have to put an end to this drama. “Go to hell, Ryan,” I say, then end the call. This is the bad thing about cell phones. I miss being able to slam the phone down. As a teenage girl, that was always fun.

  My body shaking a little, Mateo sits down beside me, taking my hand. “You okay?” he asks.

  I’ve got a couple choices here. I can let my argument with Ryan bother me or give Mateo my full attention. I’ve got a chance at something real with a good man, to have some fun with my list. And when I think about it that way, it’s an easy choice.

  Trying to shake it off, I say, “Yeah. No more of that. This week is about us. Besides, I haven’t given you your gift.”

  He pulls me to straddle his lap and kisses me. His hand grips the back of my neck, like he couldn’t bear if I pulled away. There’s no chance of that happening, but then he begins to slow down, lessen his grip. “It’s been a long week,” he says, kissing me between each word.

  “I missed you,” I whisper.

  His wicked little smirk appears. “I want my present.”

  Giggling, I lean back slightly. “It’s in my suitcase.”

  A quick kiss on my lips, and he’s moving me off his lap to go fetch my suitcase, stashed away in his car. “Be right back.”

  Smiling, I start to roam around. I’ve only seen the kitchen, guest bathroom, and den area, which are very impressive. The place is modern, masculine, with clean lines. Everything looks professionally done—the design, the knickknacks, a collection of black and white family photos on one wall, all with coordinating frames. There’s an office downstairs with a wall of books and a telescope. I look through the eyepiece, seeing a few stars. A metal stairwell leads upstairs. I know that’s where his bedroom must be, and I only make it a few steps up before hesitating, wondering if he’d mind me snooping, if it’s too nosy of me.

  Hell, the man bypassed my house alarm and snuck into my bedroom. So I keep going. When I reach the top of the stairs, I’m greeted by double doors. There are no other doors. The entire upstairs must be his master suite. Pushing the doors open, I feel my eyes bug out. I’ve never seen a bigger bed in my life, the headboard upholstered in a soft, suede-looking fabric. The whole room is coordinated in steel blues and grays.

  Running my fingers along his sheets, I imagine him sleeping here each night, wondering if he’s ever thought about me while lying here alone in the dark, wondering if he ever thinks of me when he pleasures himself, the way I think of him.

  Suddenly, my stomach flips flops. I’m going to be in that bed with him shortly. The stretch marks, the cellulite, the saggy breasts—the whole mom of three kids body.

  After we first had kids, Ryan would always tell me how sexy I was, how beautiful my body was, what a wonderful gift it had given him. But even he lost interest along the way. What if Mateo doesn’t like what he sees? What if I gross him out? What if he can’t even get hard? After all, he’s never seen me completely naked.

  I scream at myself inside my head. Old habits are hard to break. But these negative voices won’t bring me closer to Mateo. Just like I won’t let Ryan ruin this, I won’t let all the crap in my head do it, either.

  I hear the heaviness of his footsteps as he comes up the stairs and turn, seeing him filling up the entire doorway. Judging by the sexy grin on his face, he doesn’t seem to mind finding me in his bedroom. He places my suitcase down, then slips his hands around my waist.

  I step back, tugging on the waistband of his jeans. “I need to give you your gift.”

  Walking to my suitcase, I pull out the package. I really should’ve wrapped it, but I wasn’t planning on letting him see it. After all, it was something for me. I thought I’d be the only one seeing it.

  I hold it out to him. Holding my eyes, he rips through the cardboard, exposing the black leather. A moment of fear grips me. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I haven’t even seen the finished product.

  He looks down, opening up the leather cover. His eyes grow dark and wild. I’ve got no idea what he’s seeing. All I know is, I’m either fully naked or in lingerie in those photos. I try to peek, but he won’t let me. It’s killing me not to look as he slowly flips each page. I wonder if he’s seen the one of me hooking my pearl thong into my sexy stilettos.

  The book drops to the floor, and the next thing I know, I’m flat on my back on his bed, clothes being ripped off left and right. There’s no time to think, no time to feel insecure. There’s barely time to breathe as he kisses me with greed, the hot length of him rubbing between my legs. Then he stops and sits back on his heels, staring down at me, with a look that says what’s to come isn’t just about him or some primal need he has, but about me, him, us.

  And it’s going to take more than five minutes. From the way he’s looking at me, we might be late for work tomorrow.

  He starts at my neck, his warm tongue ever so slightly touching my skin as his lips move along my jawline, each kiss lingering just long enough to make my heart skip a beat. When his teeth find my earlobe, I can’t help but tremble. So he does it again. I hook my leg around his waist, wanting him inside me.

  “Fuck, baby,” he moans but doesn’t give me what I want.

  His head lowers slightly. I hate my breasts. Okay, there, I’ve said it. I’ve nursed three kids, and nature wasn’t kind, leaving me with two deflated balloons on my chest. With each pregnancy, they just got worse. I even saw a doctor about a lift, but he said I’d need an implant too, and I could never justify putting myself through all that.

  And when you’re married to someone as long as Ryan and I were, you just sort of get used to each other. I mean, my breasts fed his children. There was some sort of appreciation. But now, I’ve got a new man whose tongue is dangerously close to my fallen nipple. He cups my breast in his hand, probably because he had to dig it out of my armpit.

  One suck, one lick, and I don’t care how low my boobs hang as long as he keeps doing that. I get the feeling he could stay there all night, but the ache between my legs is demanding, unrelenting. “Lower,” I whisper.

  I feel him smile. His eyes lock on mine as his tongue blazes a path down my cleavage, circling my belly button, sending shivers throughout my body. A few more inches to go, the man is driving me insane. He’s getting close then veers off path, angling to my hip, kissing me. Holding my eyes, he lifts his head slightly then kisses my other hip.

  I know he’s going to get there, but he’s enjoying the tease too much. My legs fall open, inviting him, and frankly, I don’t give a damn if I look slutty or wanton. He moves down my leg, sucking and kissing my inner thigh, using his hand to massage. I can feel the muscles between my legs clenching over and over again.

  Without warning, he slips his arms under my legs, lifting them to his shoulders, and gives me one hard suck. Hands down, receiving oral
sex is my favorite. There isn’t a vibrator or masturbation technique on the planet that rivals a man’s tongue between my legs.

  “Oh God!” I cry out, hoping slow and gentle time is over. And I get my wish. His hands on my ass, he devours me. There’s no other way to describe it. With every swipe of his tongue, he makes his hunger for me known, like he’s trying to temper some long starvation.

  My thighs on his shoulders, he works me over, licking and sucking and driving me crazy, but then he stops, and my eyes dart open. Gently, he kisses a path up my body, slow and sweet until we are eye-to-eye. “What do you want?” he asks.

  I’m not Poppy. I’ve never been one to take what I want in bed. I usually just took what Ryan offered and either it worked or it didn’t. But this is the new, adventurous me. “I want . . .”

  I can’t say it, even though I’m thinking it.

  He lowers his lips to my neck, whispering, “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  Closing my eyes, I say, “I want to sit on your face.”

  I can feel him smiling. “I was hoping for that,” he says and rolls to his back, pulling me into a straddle over his face. He gives me one little lick. “Grab the headboard,” he says, “and fuck my mouth, baby.”

  At first, I feel self-conscious about the way my body looks, but he takes hold of my ass, massaging my cheeks, making me clench around his tongue, and I don’t give a flying fuck anymore, and before I know it, I’m not thinking about whether I’m smothering him. I thrust and clench, a warmth spreading over my body, my legs tightening. I feel myself ready to explode, and my vision goes white. I cry out in pleasure, not sure the words coming out of my mouth are even English.

  Mateo gives me no time to recover, flipping me under him, sinking himself deep inside me. I’m not sure how I have anything left, but my body starts trembling, pulsing around him.

  “You got more for me, baby?”

  My neck arches, and my second orgasm comes right on top of the first. As I come down, he kisses my neck gently, his dick still rock hard inside me, and gives me a moment to catch my breath, my body still jerking from the aftershocks. When my eyes open, he slowly starts to move in and out, waiting for me to settle before thrusting any deeper.

  A soft, sweet smile crosses his lips as he leans down to kiss me. Our eyes locked on each other, we start to move together, slowly at first. The man is taking his time, savoring me. I know Mateo’s waited for this moment for a long time, so I figured it would be fast and furious, but I was wrong. Instead, it’s like he waited so long that he wants to make it last and last.

  “Fuck, you feel perfect,” he groans.

  I always thought Ryan had the perfect dick. I had nothing to compare it to until this moment. I shouldn’t be thinking about my ex-husband. I’d hate to think Mateo’s comparing me to anyone else.

  But I’ve never had sex with someone who hadn’t said they loved me, until now. I know what sex was like when Ryan and I were madly in love, and I know what it was like towards the end when I didn’t feel loved by him anymore. There is a huge difference. Whether that difference is just in me, how I felt, or something more—it’s still there.

  Right now with Mateo, this feels much more like the madly in love sex than the empty sex just because you need to get off. This is slow, sweet, full of promise, passion and possibility.

  Poppy’s going to be disappointed we aren’t hanging from a chandelier. To her, this would be boring old missionary sex, but it’s anything but. We don’t need crazy positions, toys, videos, or any of that stuff. Don’t get me wrong, all that is fine and good and keeps things spicy, but sometimes this is all you need—to feel the warm weight of a man’s body on top of yours—to have your bodies moving together in rhythm.

  This time when my orgasm hits, it rolls down my body like an ocean wave. As soon as it crashes ashore, Mateo’s teeth gnash together, the strength of my muscles clenching, pulling his orgasm from him. He rests his head down next to mine, keeping most of the weight of his body off mine, his dick still inside me.

  Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. The sex part came right back to me, but the after-sex part is causing some anxiety.

  Ryan used to get up so quickly, it was almost like he was throwing me off, then he’d disappear to shower or brush his teeth. It wasn’t always that way, but it’s been years since a man held me after. I shift, causing Mateo to lift his head. I try to move again, and his dick twitches inside of me.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he says playfully, twitching again.

  The man knows exactly how to make me smile, pinning me to the bed with his cock. I tighten my muscles, giving him a hard squeeze, and am rewarded with a delicious groan.

  “Now you’re definitely not going anywhere,” he says, leaning down and giving my bottom lip a gentle bite.

  He gently moves to my neck, kissing and nibbling, his fingers playing with my hair. “If you keep doing that, you better be prepared to fuck me again,” I say.

  I feel his smile as he buzzes me with his dick again. He’s torturing me, so I tighten around him as hard as I can. “If you keep doing that, you better be prepared to get fucked again,” he says through clenched teeth.

  Oh yes, I am.

  * * *

  I don’t know that we’d ever make it out of bed except that all the panting made me thirsty. I get up, stretching, and step on my boudoir photo album. Bending down to pick it up, I flip it to the first page—a silhouette of my naked body lit from behind. I slowly flip through the pages, unable to believe it’s actually me in the photos.

  Looking at myself, it’s like an out-of-body experience. Everything I see is one hundred percent me—the real me, not a lick of Photoshop anywhere. And because my face isn’t in a lot of the photos, I can look at this woman without judgment, to see what others see.

  Mateo’s arms slip around my waist, and he buries his nose in my hair. My feet shift side to side, and he squeezes me a little tighter. “I love my gift,” he says. “You surprise the hell out of me.”

  “Which picture is your favorite?” I ask, and he lifts one hand from my skin and turns the page, landing on the tamest picture in the album. “Really?”

  “It’s the only one where you’re looking right at the camera.”

  That is the sweetest possible answer. Dropping the book on the bed, I turn around and kiss him softly. He takes my hand, leading me towards the bathroom.

  His bathroom is the best room in the house. There’s a fireplace, a huge glass shower with all kinds of jets, and what I can only describe as an infinity tub. I’m not sure that’s a real thing, but the tub is set against a huge glass window, so it looks like you’re bathing in the sky.

  I do a little spin. “I may never leave this room. It’s heaven.”

  He chuckles. “I’ve never even used the tub.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  He shakes his head. “Guys shower.”

  I guess that’s true. Ryan never bathed. Jacob stopped bathing. Wonder why? Is the bathtub a girly thing? “Well, today you’re bathing,” I say, bending over to start the tub water and throw him my best flirty smile over my shoulder. “With me.”

  I don’t have to ask twice. He steps right inside the tub, offering me his hand, and sits behind me, letting me lean back on his chest, his arms around my waist, and we relax down into the warm inviting water.

  Neither one of us say a word. The man just saw me naked, did amazing things to my body, and I oddly can’t think of one single thing to say. But that feels completely okay in a completely weird way. It feels good not to be running around, organizing, chauffeuring my kids, planning, working. It feels good to just be—still and quiet, focusing on nothing but the sound of his heart beating strong and steady.

  When the water is high enough, he stretches up his foot to turn off the faucet. “I wish we could skip work tomorrow,” I say, yawning.

  “Me, too,” he agrees so easily it makes me beam. “I think there’s some things on your list that need to be
done.”

  “Guess I can cross off sleeping with a younger man,” I say. “I still can’t believe you read it.”

  “Baby, I have it memorized. That was number 20.”

  “I need to get it back from you.”

  “You don’t need it,” he says. “Because anything you want to do on it, you’ll do with me.”

  “Anything?”

  “All but one thing.”

  “Never took you for a prude,” I tease. “Which one bothered you?”

  “It didn’t bother me.”

  “Which one?”

  “Threesome.”

  I bust out laughing. “Layla, Poppy, and I were so drunk when we made that list. Poppy insisted I hadn’t lived until I’ve had two men servicing me at the same time.”

  “Not gonna happen,” he says, and his possessive tone sends goose bumps across my skin.

  “Of course, I think Poppy also has done a little girl on girl. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind that.”

  “Nope,” he says, tilting my face to his. “I’m not sharing you with a man or a woman.”

  “I wouldn’t share you, either,” I say.

  He flips me over in the tub, water splashing over the side. “As for everything else, we’re good.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s very generous of you.”

  “You’ll find me a very generous man,” he says and leans in to kiss me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SPANKING

  Usually, the first time I wake up in a new place, I feel a little disoriented, off balance. But I did not feel that way waking up in Mateo’s beautiful room and soft bed. It feels good here, like I belong.

  But it’s three in the morning, and I have to pee. The pressure from his arm lazily thrown over my belly isn’t helping the situation. It feels like it weighs twenty pounds, all pushing down on my bladder. I’d much rather lay here and admire how cute he looks when he sleeps, his chiseled face relaxed, his breathing soft and rhythmic. Instead, I move his arm to his side and scoot off the bed, careful not to wake him.