We’d been having sex for approximately six minutes, according to the alarm clock on my nightstand, which meant it would soon be over.
My husband groaned as he moved against me. I was in the position Jason usually preferred—on my hands and knees, facing away from him, with no opportunity for kissing or eye contact. He shifted his hips and pounded into me and I moaned in pleasure and frustration, knowing as good as it felt I wouldn’t be able to get there in this position, at least not as fast as I’d need to.
Concentrating hard, I clenched my eyes and sorted through my trusty catalog of erotic fantasies and settled on the image of Jason moving over me, cradled between my thighs, arms clutched around my shoulders and his body hunched over mine as he devoured me in a kiss and ground his pelvic bone into mine again and again.
“Mmm, Jas,” I moaned. Closer…
The fantasy shifted. Jason had me pinned against a wall, arms under my knees holding me open as he stood and thrust between my thighs. His muscles bunched and rippled between us as I held tight to his thick shoulders. Oh, closer. Then he was sitting underneath me on the couch, big hands guiding my hips up and down as his pubic bone rubbed my clit and his hot mouth tormented my nipples.
So close. Gonna work this time! Just a little more. Just a little—
With a grunt, Jason stilled and his erection pulsed inside me.
Damn, damn. Double damn. I groaned and hung my head.
He patted my bottom. “Mmm, Sash, that sounded good.” He squeezed my hips and pulled out.
Huh? Does he think? Nooo. Really?
I flopped down onto my stomach, still panting and aroused—and definitely not satisfied—and pulled the sheet up over me. Part of me wanted to yell, “Hey, Clueless Joe, my turn!” But time constraints always chased the big O away, and we were already pushing our morning schedule. Not to mention, my asking would burst his I-just-satisfied-my-wife bubble. I didn’t want to risk a fight.
As he walked into the bathroom, my thoughts cycled through to my to-do list for the day: defrost the lasagna for dinner, remind Lily to take her P.E. clothes to school, hit the gym for 45 minutes on the elliptical, dry cleaners, bank, work—we were still doing inventory today. I sighed. Maybe O could find a spot on the list this evening.
Ten minutes later, Jason walked out of the bathroom showered, mostly dressed, and looking fine as always. Tall and trim with brown eyes and light brown hair, Jason’s athletic body still appealed to me the way it did when we’d met twenty-two years before. He was less toned in the middle, and had just a touch of grey at the temples and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, but somehow it all made him even sexier. Why do men wear age so much better than women?
With a sigh I sat up, holding the sheet to cover my chest against the chilly air in our bedroom. Decorated in browns and turquoise, it was my second favorite room in our house, next to our kitchen. “Will you be late tonight?” For the past two years, Jason had worked at his dream job—Community Relations Liaison for the Washington Nationals Major League Baseball team. He traveled a lot and often worked late, so I never knew what his schedule was going to be.
“Nah, I’ll be home for dinner. Things should be calm for the next month or two while the players are off.” He rooted through his closet.
“Okay, good. I’ll make us a nice dinner. Grace is bringing Lily home after choir practice, so we can eat around seven?” I smiled at the thought of having Jason home for dinner for once—my whole day seemed brighter now. Winter offered a needed reprieve from the seasonal demands of his job.
He nodded as he watched himself knot his tie in the tall framed mirror. “Sounds like a plan. What are you doing today?”
I smiled. “Oh, well, Jenny’s opening the shop, but I told her I’d be there by noon. I have some errands, and then I think I’ll go to the gym before heading in.”
“That’ll be good,” Jason murmured as he shrugged into his sports coat. My favorite red tie lay smooth against his crisp white dress shirt. Maybe I’ll wear it for him later, and nothing else.
I shook my head; it was going to be a long day if every little thing set me off like this. I couldn’t help it, though. In my early thirties I’d had a take-it-or-leave-it attitude towards sex most of the time—my limited time and energy seemed better spent on other pursuits, and Jason and I related in other fulfilling ways—but by my late thirties and early forties, I couldn’t get enough. Whether it was my age or the invigorating effects of my recent weight loss or the incredibly hot romance series I’d found recently, I was ready for sex, well, pretty much all the time. Jason didn’t always know what to make of my interest.
I slid out of the tall king-sized bed and padded across the thick pile of the soft Berber carpet. I gave him a little naked hip shimmy as I passed and strutted into the bathroom. He didn’t notice. I rolled my eyes. My body wasn’t perfect, but it was as good as it had been in a long while, and I was pretty proud of myself for finally getting off my butt.
Standing at the double sinks, I ran a brush through my hair.
“Okay,” he called from out in the bedroom, “I gotta go. Talk to you later.”
I lowered the brush and rested my hands against the granite counter. “Okay. I love you.”
“You, too.” His voice was distant enough that I knew he was already running downstairs.
I shook my head. No kiss good-bye. Again.
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