“Hey,” she tells, searching my eyes. “You zoned out. Is there something else that’s bothering you?”
I give her a tight smile. “Don’t worry about it. You know I share everything with you.”
There is a flicker of doubt in her eyes that I immediately latch onto, but before I can probe further, she shakes her head. “I know that, but you also know that it won’t stop me from asking again. What’s there in my mind is always on my mouth too. I can’t hide anything from you. I’ve always voiced out my concern.”
My wife is also very intuitive. If anything is even slightly amiss, she’s the first to notice it. I’m certain she has already noticed the slight change in my demeanor. But until she affirms her suspicions, she won’t bring it up and that fetches me a lot of time. That’s the real problem when another person knows you really well. They can even rightly guess your hidden thoughts with just the shadow of uncertainty on your face or in that one moment when you downturn your lips. That’s the package deal that comes with marriage. Sharing the same bed and roof with your partner makes them attuned to your every single movement and posture. It’s unavoidable.
“I get it,” I tell with a brighter smile this time. “How long do we have today before Clay barges in, demanding food? I want to make the best of this alone time.”
“Really now?” She chuckles again. “We have ten minutes at the most,” she speculates.
That’s the thing. It has become like a routine for us. Nothing new. Nothing out of the ordinary. My wife is happy with it. This is the conversation that can be actually recorded and replayed with us just doing the lip-sync for it. I’m not complaining. But sometimes I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs and I’m done taking the initiative every time. Like all men, sometimes I love to be pleased too.
“I can manage with that,” I tell haughtily.
She unbuckles my pants and I go about unbuttoning my shirt. She wanders to the walk-in closet in search of my sweatpants. Everything is so timed in my house and that’s what makes me so punctual even at work. In office it’s respected and is even expected but in my house, I prefer things to be more impulsive, untimed and more in the spur-of the moment. But no, Cecelia works on a very strict clock and if she has told ten minutes, then she wants it to be done in ten minutes. Everything. Including us getting clothed post sex. She has to be down to welcome our kids like the good mother that she has always been. She will be so put together by the time they come that not even a single strand of hair will be out of place. I can live with my kids knowing that their parents are still active in bed, but she can’t stand the embarrassment of that thought. Sometimes, I just don’t get my wife and the root of her insecurities but most of the times, I don’t even try. Certain traits can’t be molded or changed as per convenience and for Cecilia, keeping our sex life private and hidden is one such thing.
I close the gap between us and cup her face. Before I can even say a word, she mouths, “I need you, Nathan.” I stare longingly at her and wait for her to make a move. When she doesn’t, I lean forward and press my lips on hers. The kiss is soft and tender like a slow dance. I move us back to the bed without breaking our kiss. She falls on her back and I hover over her. She starts to fumble with my pants while I hastily pull her dress above her head. It’s fast but not fast enough. I wriggle out of my pants and fist my shaft through my briefs. I’m hard but I’m not that satisfied. Things aren’t the way they used to be before. I doubt my wife would notice or feel any difference. It’s not age or time, but maybe it’s my interests and expectations that are coming in the way, stopping me from enjoying it to the maximum.
Predicting my next move, she starts to unclasp her bra and keeps it aside. I’m not sure how I feel about it. There are certain stuffs that I prefer to do. Undressing her being one of them. That’s the problem. I’ve started to notice all these small things instead of just losing myself in the act. Such flickering thoughts are distracting me and putting me at unease.
“Nathan?” she questions, uncertainty again flickering in her yes. I want that gone. I don’t want her feeling that way and definitely not because of me.
My wife is beautiful both body and soul and at times like this, she wants me to affirm it. Not just by words but by actions too.
I smile at her before burying my head between her modest boobs. I suck and nip her nipples, making her cry in joy. My tongue worships her while my teeth come down on her soft skin, raking it in its wake. My name that leaves her mouth hints at borderline warning. She doesn’t like me being rough or going wild on her and I do respect her wishes. But sometimes I get carried away but I always stop when she asks me to.
“Fuck me, Nathan, please,” she requests. I know that when she asks for it, she’s wet and ready for me. But I confirm it as always. Pushing her panties down her legs, I thrust a finger inside of her throbbing heat. Her wetness coats my finger. Just when I’m pulling out, our moment is ruined. My phone starts to screech the same time our daughter shouts from below.
“Mom, I’m home early. Is dinner ready? I’m starving. Clay will be joining in some time too.”
I know our precious ten minutes is already lost. The ashen look on my wife’s face says it all. She need not even have to say a word. Her lips wobble lightly and when I raise my brows in question, she just shakes her head vehemently. I don’t utter a single word as I get off the bed.
“I’ll be down in five minutes,” she shouts.
I turn my back to her in search of my pants. I hear shuffling and scrambling behind me. It irks me more. It’s not her fault and I fucking love my kids, but their timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
“I’m sorry, Nathan.” Her voice calms me a bit. It’s when she places her hand on my shoulders does the tension in my muscles loosen. I’m still pretty hard, and it definitely needs to be taken care of but it has to wait. “I’ll make up for it in a while. Just let me attend to them first.” I turn to her and leave a swift kiss on her forehead. “It’s ok, darling,” I reassure her.
Is it really ok? But I’m not going to argue with my wife and upset her over what she considers a silly, non-trivial subject.
“Your sweatshirt and pants are on the dresser,” she tells with a smile and I just nod my head.
No more words are exchanged between us before she trudges downstairs. I easily find my sweatpants and shirt. I get into them with a huff. I rather go to the bathroom and finish my business but I try to restrain. I can’t let my libido and need to release control me like this. I really need to work more on my self –control.
My phone buzzes again and that’s when it gets my attention. It was not just my kids, but it was also my phone that had interrupted the moment. I had ignored it then, but now it has piqued my curiosity. Unless it’s a work emergency no one usually calls at this hour, but even a work emergency could have waited until I finished.
I hastily unplug it form the charger. The screen lights up with an incoming call from Sara. Her bright smiling face takes over the whole screen. In this moment, I’m completely lost in her and I actually forget about my bad mood thanks to the interrupted sex. I take in her features and slide my thumb across the screen, along her cheeks. I’m so lost in awe and glee that I don’t even answer the phone even as it continues to ring incessantly.
It stops to ring and I wait patiently, holding it in my hands. After two more minutes it stars to ring again. I knew it. She is one impatient and persistent woman. This time I actually pick it up.
“Hey,” she tells, almost out of breath. “Is it like a bad time to call? I didn’t give it too much of a thought before calling.”
Her voice. It’s like a caress, licking my wounds and tenderly healing it. But it doesn’t just have a soothing effect- it’s sexy as hell too. A perfect mix of exactly what I seek.
“An honest answer is yes. It’s not safe for me if you call at such odd hours at night especially when I’m home.”
This has nothing to do with her interrupting my sex, but more about playing saf
e when my wife’s around. I can’t let her get even a little suspicious about me taking a special liking for my new employee. I’ve no idea where things with Sara are headed, but Cecilia can’t be privy about that.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurts. It’s evident from her tone that I’ve thrown her off course. She probably expected me to be happy that she called, and I am. She did take me by a pleasant surprise but the need to play safe is foremost important.
“It won’t happen again, I’ll see you…”
“Wait,” I interrupt her. “I’m not done yet. I just want you to be a little more careful next time but nonetheless, I’m happy. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Is it like the right time to talk?” she asks nervously.
I chuckle lightly. “Depends on the subject,” I humor her.
I’m well aware of what she’s hinting at but I didn’t honestly expect her to take a step this soon.
“Our last conversation ended rather abruptly,” she starts.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I was called for a meeting,” I tell honestly.
“That’s ok. You just left me …”
“Wanting for more,” I complete for her. “Are you really ready to hear what I wish to say, Sara? Without any inhibitions and holding back from your end?”
“It depends on what you have to say, Nathan,” she replies boldly.
I’ve to give it to this girl. Using my words back on me. No one has been this gutsy with me before.
“Fishing for some dirty talk, now?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Dirty?” I can imagine the mortified look on her face. Scared, embarrassed, anxious but not to miss- turned on. Her voice is a clear give away.
“You’ve got it wrong. I didn’t call you to sext, I mean sex-talk. Fuck. I didn’t say just that. Oh god. I just cussed in front of my boss. I shouldn’t be doing any of this. Geez, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore or why I even called you. I just felt like talking to you, that sounds crazy, right?”
She pauses and even after a beat when the line remains silent, I speak, “Are you finally done? Can I actually speak?”
“I suppose,” she tells meekly.
“You sure speak a lot,” I comment and immediately back it with a compliment, “But it’s good, fun actually. You’re so vibrant and full of energy. It’s amusing to hear.”
“So, are you saying I’m like your entertainer?” Her question is loaded with humor.
“That wasn’t the role I had reserved for you, but since the role of an entertainer is also vacant at the moment, I can offer that to you as well.”
“Thanks, but I got to decline that offer. I tend to embarrass myself a lot and I’m aware of that but I don’t want a tag for it as well. It’s embarrassing as it is.”
“You can be my personal entertainer,” I suggest.
“Well, can I at least hear about the other role you want to offer me before deciding anything? I want to weigh my options.”
She’s the only one who surprises me so much. I can’t even predict what she will say next. She wants to breach the subject, but pretending to be the innocent one, she’s baiting me. I’m not sure if I’m playing her or she’s playing me.
“Let me help,” she continues. “I’ll make it easy for you. I’m proud to reiterate your words. You said you were attracted to me.”
That’s how she wants to take this further? Sweet girl.
“Well, Sara Waters, I stand by my words. I’m attracted to you. Isn’t that a pretty easy guess considering that being your boss how inappropriately I’m talking to you?”
“Ahh,..You’re already driving me crazy. We’re doing this in circles. Let me get straight to the point. What do you want from me?”
“You actually make me forget that I’m the boss and you’re my subordinate,” I accept, defeated.
“If this commanding tone of mine will help me fetch some answers from you then I’ll be using it more often. I won’t rest until I get my answers.”
Her tone borderlines on anger and I can’t help the fit of laughter that escapes me. I’m not sure what exactly about this situation I find funny, but Sara has me wrapped in the palm of her hands and no matter what she says or does, I find it cute and funny. She’s just so different from the likes of other women that I’ve met.
“Hey, Nathan, what’s so funny?” She whimpers.
“You,” I tell honestly, continuing to laugh.
“What? Really?” She exclaims but joins me in my laughter. It’s like we are two mad souls laughing for reasons best known to us. It’s crazy, totally. I’ve never given myself so much free reins and the kind of happiness I’m experiencing now is foreign to me.
”Nathan, why are we even laughing? My tummy is a goner,” she wails, but doesn’t stop laughing.
“This is insane,” I add, “but you’re truly magical, Sara. I’ve not laughed so much in a very long time.”
“Magical? I never truly believed in magic,” she tells solemnly.
“You better start believing it. I’m going to be returning the favor and making your life magical too.”
“Nathan,” The way she says my name with so much awe and admiration stills my heart. No one has called me like that before.
“Dad!” my daughter shouts. I hear her thumping footsteps as she climbs the stairs.
“Don’t call back and text, baby. I’ll get in touch with you soon.” I disconnect the call just as my daughter barges inside without even knocking the door.
“Dad, was it really you laughing so hard? I really couldn’t believe my ears. Mom was stunned too.”
I compose myself and turn to my daughter, Isla with a stoic expression. “Just gaining acquaintance with a new friend.”
Not a lie, but not complete truth either.
“What’s the joke? Care to share it with your daughter?”
“Not a clean or decent one. You know the stuff we men talk about.”
She makes a gagging face and shakes her head. “Geez dad, no, I don’t want to hear that.”
I shrug. “Trust me. You won’t be losing out on much.”
“I’ll buy your words on that,” she giggles.
As always, I widen my arms and she rushes over to give me a hug. My daughter is pretty tall for her age. Five-eight already but she’s just fifteen. “Missed you, dad. It was a very tiring day at school.”
“Tell me about it,” I tell patting her back.
“Long story cut short – My history teacher just pisses me off. Like really? He always seems to have a problem with me!” she exclaims. “This time he told me to leave the class. I was mortified.”
I look her in the eye as I narrow my eyes at her. “And did you actually leave the class?”
“Well..no, I apologized and sat back down. It wasn’t worth the trouble.”
“Really now?” I rub my two-day scruff as I study her intently. I know my daughter well. It doesn’t actually take a tell for me to know that she’s at fault here. “You’re blinking your eyes rapidly. I’ve pointed out before that it’s your tell.”
“It was kind of my fault and kind of not,” she explains.
I stand my ground with my arms folded across my chest. She walks backwards to the dresser and settles atop it with her legs dangling. “Well, ok, maybe it was my fault all along.”
“That explains it. My daughter is not one to apologize without any fault of her own. You’re the kind to argue and rebel in what you believe is right.”
“Perfect blend of you and mom, right? You’ve never been the one to bow in front of anyone and mom is always the most right and level headed person I know. Always sticking to her principles and notions of right and wrong.”
“That you are,” I tell, fondly patting her head. “So what actually did you do that irked your teacher so much?”
“It was an important lesson about the French revolution and I slept off, right in front of his nose for flat fifteen minutes. He couldn’t stand it..obviously.”
“You slept?” I ask incredulously. “Hard to believe it, Isla. You’ve always been very attentive and you even seem to like History.”
I’m actually concerned now. Thanks to her new basketball endeavors, her health has taken a toll.
“I was really tired. I had gone for practice in the morning with Clay. After that I went straight to school. I couldn’t help it, dad. It’s the first time that I had slept off like this. I wish he hadn’t made a big deal of it.”
I will have to address the subject of her pushing herself so hard, but that can wait for the moment.
“Did you try explaining? You could have just offered an explanation and walked off. Health comes first, always.” I don’t usually take this tone, but when I do, it indicates just how serious I am. I don’t like my daughter ill-treated or humiliated by anyone.
“Dad, I just wanted to brush it off. It was my fault after all. Either way, chuck it, will you? I learned a new basketball trick today!! I mastered it even before bro and that has to count for something!”
I heave a sigh, plopping on the bed. “I see the Linden fever hasn’t still died.”
“Of course no. It has just begun. Linden Gardner is my role model and he’s from Seattle! He once played on the same court that I play on today. The energy and the inspiration? I can feel it thrumming in my body. I want to be as awesome as him one day.”
That’s my daughter. I’m not sure when she became like this. She’s always kept boys at an arm’s length and now she’s fangirling over this Linden dude. I understand that he’s an ace player and the whole city is proud of him, but that’s not a reason strong enough for my daughter to love him so much.
Enticed by you (Miraculous Love Book 1) Page 5