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Joanna battled like a trooper, but within a year, she was gone, leaving me heartbroken, with only the company and Lily to remind me of all the hopes and dreams we’d planned as poor college kids.
“Promise me you’ll live, Blake,” she said to me in the last week of her life. She was emaciated and in a great deal of pain, and yet she was still trying to nurture us.
I promised I would, even though I didn’t know how I could live without her.
“Don’t be afraid to love again.”
I shook my head. Tears dripped down my face. “I can’t. You’re my love.” She was the only woman I’d ever loved. It was ridiculous to think I’d ever love anyone again.
She squeezed my hand. “Don’t close yourself off and hide. Live and love and be happy. I need you to show Lily how to seize life.”
“I’ll try.”
Of the two of us, Joanna was the vibrant, full of life person. She was the one that should be showing Lily how to seize life, not me.
She gave me a look of pity. The one that said she knew I wanted to make her wish come true, but that she didn’t think I’d be able to.
She wasn’t wrong to think that. I was an introvert at heart. And with Joanna’s death, any passion I had for life died with her. But I fucking tried to give Joanna what she asked. Lily lived and loved and was happy, even if she was shy and anxious at school. I certainly didn’t need another woman in my life to give Lily what she needed. And Lily didn’t need a mother-figure. She had Mrs. Douglas and Joanna’s mother.
Giving Lily another kiss on the forehead, I left her room, closing the door and going to my room. I showered, wanting to wash away the day’s fatigue.
Thinking of Joanna made me wonder what she’d think of my reaction to Bella today. In my mind, it was a betrayal to have a physical response to a woman who wasn’t my wife. I had one wife who I vowed to love and honor forever. Fuck the til’ death do us part. As far as I was concerned, I was still married.
But knowing Joanna, she’d think it was funny that I got a hard-on while my assistant straightened my tie. She’d always thought I was a little too serious and strait-laced, something she’d spent fifteen years trying to cure me of.
I pressed my palms to the shower tile and ducked my head under the water. A shower and a good night’s sleep were all I needed to get my bearings straight again.
Out of the shower, I toweled off, slipped on boxers and climbed into bed. I still slept on the right side of the bed, and, occasionally woke up expecting Joanna to be there. Those mornings were hard.
I closed my eyes and willed sleep to come. I drifted, feeling light and a sense of peace.
“Can I help you?”
I looked into her face, into her blue eyes. A vanilla scent mixed with flowers filled my senses as she moved to me. My body flushed, my blood turning thick and hot as it moved through my veins. An aching need grew inside me.
“Can I help you?” She dropped to her knees, her blue eyes sparkling as they looked up at me.
I started down at her, my dick, thick and long with arousal, zeroed in on her mouth.
“Can I help you?” Her pink lips wrapped around my dick, she sucked and tiny explosions went off in my brain.
“Can I help you?” Her hot wet mouth worked my dick until I felt like I was in a frenzy. My hips bucked, fucking her mouth, deeper and deeper.
“Can I help you?”
Ah, fuck! My entire body felt on fire as a blast of white-hot energy shot from my dick outward. I continued to thrust, coming and coming and…
I bolted upright in bed. My breath came in harsh gasps. My body was hot and damp with perspiration. My dick… oh fuck.
I lifted my sheet. My dick was flaccid but coated in my cum. I fell back in bed a mixture of revulsion and guilt making me sick. For the first time in twenty years, I’d had an orgasm by a woman other than my wife.
Bella
I decided that the electric moment with my boss was a figment of my imagination. It was embarrassing how I turned the simple act of straightening his tie into something sensual. I really needed to get a better grip on my hormones.
He clearly thought nothing of it. Over the next few days, he’d barely said two words to me. Even when I’d served as the interpreter for his call to France, he said nothing more than “Thank you, Ms. Hanson.”
By Friday morning, I brushed off the incident in the elevator as a flight of fancy brought on by a long day and too much coffee. Now that was out of the way, I focused on what I’d always done: being a great assistant.
