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Tonight is our turn to host, which means we supply the feast. We found it easier that the host family provides all the food rather than us all trying to figure out what to bring to someone’s house weekly. Takes the guess work out of it. Tess prepared most of the dishes this morning, so I check the few items that are in Crockpots. The pulled barbecue pork for sandwiches and buffalo chicken dip are cooking nicely. I place the tray of cut-up vaginas, er… vegetables in the fridge and notice that she set a tube of salami and block of cheese in there. I take care of slicing it up and put it on a platter before placing it back in the fridge, knowing it will help her. She also made two pans of brownies this morning — apparently she was busy — so I cut those up, too. I need to start doing more things like this again for her. It may seem small, but it has always seemed to me like it’s the little things that matter more than the big things. I know I’ve been slacking in that department. Making her feel cherished and appreciated. After ensuring everything is as it should be, I head upstairs to take a shower before the game.
Just as I’m stepping out of the stall, my beautiful wife enters our en suite bathroom, turns, and locks the door. The look in her eyes makes me rise to attention immediately as she saunters over to me.
“Hi, babe,” I say, the corner of my lip turning up. I’m not even trying to cover myself or hide the fact that just her mere presence while I’m naked is doing things to me.
“Hey,” she replies in the sweetest voice ever heard. As much as I’m not ashamed of presenting myself to her, she’s not ashamed of staring at what she wants. And what she wants is obviously me. She walks over and rests her slender fingers on my chest, slowly dragging them down, teasing me with a promise that I can’t wait to see her fulfill.
As her hands continue their slow descent down my stomach and into the promised land, I can’t help but to shift my hips and press myself into her. She doesn’t hesitate a moment and grips me in her small hand, causing me to groan and drop my head back. She exhales as if she’s missed touching me just as much as I’ve missed her touch. I reach over to her and pull her closer, not even caring what time it is and that we really need to leave to get to the field to watch Grady kick some turf ass.
“Where’s Harper?” I ask, somehow able to have a rational thought.
“She’s with Maggie. They’re both changing clothes and getting ready for the game.”
Her answer is all I need to hear to get me even harder. “You don’t want to start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” I say as I capture her mouth in a kiss. Oh hell, her mouth. Her taste. She’s so perfect it still surprises me over twenty years later.
She pulls back slightly, tilting her head to the side to give me access to her neck. “Who said I can’t finish? I figured maybe we could do something now… and later?” she asks softly, like the tease that she is.
“Hell yes,” I grind out.
And because the universe, or our kids, hate us, we hear Maggie and Harper both yell that it’s time to leave. We both whimper, and I think I feel a tear threaten to escape my eye, but the heat in her gaze as she looks at me is a promise of finishing later. Now I can only hope my hard on will go away so I don’t look like a creepy douche at my son’s football game, sporting a boner like a pubescent teenager.
“Bloody hell,” I groan in a horrible British accent, but I need something to lighten my mood. It was the first time Tess had her hands on me in far too long, and my children were cockblocking me from getting some. Again.
She giggles adorably, obviously loving all my botched accents, before she releases me and responds to the girls. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’re coming!”
“I was trying to, anyway,” I grumble. I’m not even going to apologize for my bad mood now. My grumbling causes Tess to burst out into laughter before she tells the girls to make sure the dogs have food and water before we leave, then shuts the door to our bedroom so I can change, giving me a few moments to get myself back under control.
I walk into our bedroom and pull on a pair of boxer briefs — half tempted to go commando just so she knows how easily accessible I am the entire night and maybe drive her a little crazy — a pair of faded jeans, a school T-shirt and hoodie. I slide my feet into a pair of sneakers, and I’m ready. Not the most stylish, but it’s a high school varsity football game. In southeast Michigan. In October. Style isn’t a factor — warmth is.
I look over at my wife who is dressed similarly, but somehow she still looks gorgeous. Her shoulder-length hair is in its usual soft waves that I know will smell like coconut when I lean in to kiss her neck, which I do. Because I can. Simple as that. She has on a dark pair of skinny jeans that hug her ass as if they were made for her alone. I won’t be able to keep my hands off her ass all night.
I walk over to where Tess stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, reapplying some makeup and fixing her hair, and wrap my arms around her. She turns to face me with one cheek blushed and the other not. I smile at her because I can’t help it. She looks so goofy with her makeup half done and her big, beautiful innocent eyes staring up at me. She leans up and kisses my chin and tries to spin back around to face the mirror, but I stop her with my tight grip on her waist.
“I miss you,” I tell her, staring into her beautiful blue eyes.
Her body sags against me, and tears immediately form in her eyes. She’s always been an emotional sap, but I know it’s more than just her normal emotions getting to her now. She feels it too. I need to do something about it, and seeing her to the point of tears breaks my heart. She should never feel that our relationship will cause her tears.
“Don’t cry. Please, Tess. It breaks my heart. I can’t take the tears.”
“I’m sorry.” She sniffles. “I can’t help it. It’s not just the sex. Yes, I miss it terribly, but it’s you. I miss you, too. We have to find a way to get back to ourselves.”
“Come on now, I know it’s really just my magical penis that you miss,” I tease her.
She looks up at me with a watery smile and says through her chuckling, “You know it.”
“Pretty girl, I feel it, too. We’re gonna fix us, you hear me? Surely the kids are old enough to live on their own, yeah?”
My sarcastic comment hit the mark exactly where I intended it to. It lightened the mood. I get the smile back from her that we both needed. We can’t be heading off to cheer for Grady in a sour mood. It just won’t do.
“Come on, stud. Let’s get this show on the road.” She playfully smacks my butt then pinches it for good measure. She’s always had a thing for my butt. If she were a guy, she’d be an ass man. She’s so weird. But I’ll do squats until I’m ninety to keep my butt tight if it means she’ll keep wanting to touch and squeeze it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever not wanted to have our postgame gathering as little as I do tonight. Would it be bad if we put a table outside with the food, drinks, and plates with a sign that says ‘Help yourselves and wait outside’?”
“Let’s make sure to add the scarf to the doorknob. I’m sure they’d probably figure that was a little odd, but I’m game.”
“Tonight,” I promise… once again. I think I’ll lose my shit if tonight’s promise is broken to either of us.
“Tonight,” she promises back, a big smile covering her face.
