Page 38 of Midlife Crisis

“Not good enough?” He tugs up my skirt, roughly pulls down my panties, and rams into me. The force pushes me forward, and I reach for anything to steady myself. Unfortunately, I’ve cleaned the desk, so I only slide over the flat surface.

“Lady, you’re better than anyone I’ve ever known.” His voice stammers as he continues to hammer into me. His hands grip my hips for several thrusts before one slips down my belly and finds the sensitive nub he touched the other night. Flicking it in rhythm with the speed of his thrusts, he continues to speak. “I’m not good enough for you, baby, but if you want me to take you on a desk, take you against a wall, or take you over that nasty couch, I’ll fucking take you.” His pace increases, and I grunt with each tap inside me. He’s deep like this, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before.

“No one else gets at you,” he demands, working my clit until I’m almost drooling on the desk. I want this orgasm. I need this release. “Only me. Now come all over me. Mark me as yours.”

I do as he commands, holding back the scream with the clamp of my lips. I press back, forcing him as deep as he can go within me. He fills me and I burst around him, the release washing me clean of all negativity. Then my favorite part happens. He pulses, filling me as he strains from his own rapid explosion. He lets go of my hips and slides his hands down my arms, covering my fingers against the desk. I spread them, and he curls his with mine, resting his chest on my back. “You are so fucking incredible, naughty lady.”

He presses a kiss to my shoulder, and I close my eyes, willing the moment to last. He’s going to pull out at any second, break the connection, and then walk away. He’s already done it twice before, and I hold my breath, struggling to catch it after the orgasm that just ripped through me. I wait for the rejection.

Why did I say yes to this?

“You cleaned the desk,” he mumbles at my ear. “Were you anticipating something?”

“A girl can always dream.”

“You dream of being taken over a desk?” He chuckles into my hair.

“Yes.” I exhale on the admission.

“Why?”

“Because I never have before.” The truth seems like too much. Admitting a fantasy to a man about to walk away adds to the stab wound he’s about to inflict.

“Middy, let me make all your dreams come true.” The comment stops my heart, and the breath I’m holding exhales on a gasp.

“What?”

“I know I’m an ass but let me try. I want to try with you, little lady. I think you’re the girl to make all my dreams come true.”

How can I say no to that?

16

Chrome Teardrops

[Hank]

Each time I look at the damn desk, I get hard. Picturing her creamy ass in the air, me entering her in such a way. I want her again, but I’m out to prove myself this time. I meant what I said; I want to make her dreams come true because I’m starting to think she’ll fulfill mine. The first promise to myself is no more sex. Not until I’m back in her good graces by showing her I want more than something physical from her. This starts tonight at her son’s play. I’m nervous when I think about it but remember Edie and Tommy will be present. Maybe that makes me even more anxious

I’ve been thinking a lot since last Sunday night, realizing in my heart, I’ve let Kit go. Remembering her treatment of me brought back too much pain, and I can’t raise her from the dead for answers. Some answers are just never meant to be had, I finally realize. I’m a slow learner. I think it was the concept of Kit, or maybe the constant way she toyed with me. Late-night calls. Quickies on the bus. Stolen kisses. However, my former lover didn’t get to me like Midge does. Kit was an addiction, an obsession. Midge is habit forming, and good habits take practice. I’m ready to learn.

She’s sitting at the front desk talking to Chopper when I come in from the garage. I’m starting to think my nephew has a crush on this woman like his father. Hell, the whole garage likes her.

I’ve been spending every second working on Pendelton’s Bentley. I want it done so the old man has no excuse not to see her. He’s a piece of work, the ancient fart. He thinks the world revolves around him and his shit don’t stink, but I know men like him. Most of the world doesn’t like him, and they can smell him a mile away. Why Midge wants to work for him, I don’t understand, but I see her scribbling and making notes as she moves around our place. Her mind works in overdrive, and I’m waiting for a crash. I wish I could prevent it from happening, but if not, I want to be there to collect the pieces. She’s tough, but underneath, I see the delicate side of her.

Not when her backside is in the air.

Not when she straddles me.

But in general, there’s a fragility, and I want to be the glue holding her together. I just need to get my head out of my ass.

“I’m taking classes at Community until I figure out what I want to do. Then I’d like to transfer to UCLA,” Chopper says to Midge as I pass them and head to the office. My nephew is kind of a hell-raiser, like his uncle and his father, so him getting into UCLA is a long shot at best. Brut just wants him to have a college degree, which neither of us have.

“What are your main interests?” Midge offers. “You should always start there. I liked art, drawing specifically, and I knew I was a good planner. The two together became my graphic designs and marketing degree.” I sit at Brut’s desk, imagining a lost look on Chopper’s face. I purposely left the door open to listen to them. I’ll kill him if he’s lost to her words because he’s staring at her lips, like I do, imagining what she can do with them, like I do. He’s twenty-one, but he’s not stupid. He recognizes a beautiful woman.

“I love music.”

“That’s a good start. What about it? Do you play something? Or just like listening?” As Brut raised Chopper in my father’s house, playing an instrument wasn’t a possibility. Hell, I wasn’t allowed one either until I found an old drum kit thrown out in someone’s trash. I brought it home and banged the daylights out of it, pissing off Pop until he threatened to throw it away. He thought I was only messing around. He didn’t hear talent. When I left to join up with Tommy, Pop practically disowned me. He wouldn’t have encouraged Brut to let Chopper play music. He’d be too afraid Chopper might leave his old man like I left mine. Pop’s only soft spot was his grandson.