Mid Life Love: At Last (4 page)

“
Yes
.
I do
.” I didn’t want the doctor in our sex life. At all. When I’d made this appointment, I’d been assured that the focus would be on us discussing our expectations for the long term—our
goals
and our
dreams
. There was no mention of dissecting what we did in the bedroom and I was damn sure I never said anything about “intimacy problems.”

“I am so hurt by these claims, Doctor.” Jonathan put his hand over his chest. “I mean, to have the love of my life tell me that she feels like we only have sex
a few times
a week is just...Is this the part where I’m allowed to
cry
?”

“Yes, Mr. Statham. Let out all of your pain.”

He smirked. “Is our sex not
memorable
to you, Claire? It must not be if you think we only have sex
two to three times
a week. I want an
honest
marriage as well, so if you think we have intimacy problems and that our sex is
that
terrible—”

“We have sex
every day
.” I nearly lost it. “
Every
.
Day
. Sometimes more than once. Sometimes more than twice. And every time is fucking
memorable
. Happy?” I narrowed my eyes at him and he kissed my cheek.

“Um...” The doctor adjusted the sleeves of his tunic. “Well...I....Very good for both of you. Let’s move away from intimacy then, shall we?”

“
Thank you
.” We both said in unison.

––––––––

O
nce the counseling session finally came to an end, we both shook Dr. Choate’s hand and said we’d be “in touch” about scheduling part two. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I rushed inside and pressed the “door close” button over and over—anxious to get far away from white sand and invasive notecards.

“What’s the rush,
future wife
?” Jonathan stepped directly in front of me and pressed my back against the wall. “Do you have another meeting to go to right now? Somewhere else where you plan on discussing our
intimacy problems
?”

“I never said we had intimacy problems...That was a mistake and you know it.”

“Hmmm.” He brushed his fingers against my necklace.

“I can’t believe you pushed me into telling him about our sex life.”

“He
asked
.”

“You didn’t have to tell him the truth.”

“I thought you wanted me to be
honest
.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I’ve told you a million times that I don’t lie.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell him what I wrote down on that card?”

He slipped his hand underneath my skirt. “If you would like, we can go back up and I’ll happily tell him that my future wife wishes that my head was between her legs right now.”

I blushed and shook my head.

“Are you sure?” He tugged at my panties. “I’m not opposed to telling him that.”

“That’s okay...”

He lowered his mouth to my neck, taking his time to press gentle kisses onto my skin as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

I looked up at the floor numbers that were flashing above the doors as we passed them by—Eight, Seven, Six, and pushed him away from me.

“We’re almost back in the lobby,” I murmured as I stepped to the other side.

“No. We’re not.” He hit the stop button and walked over to me, pressing me against the wall again. “I actually think we do have one
huge
intimacy problem, Claire.”

“
What
?”

“Why is it that you can only be open with me about sex in text messages and
notecards
?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know
exactly
what I’m talking about.” He cut me off with a kiss and slowly hiked my dress up to my stomach. “I always have to try and
read your mind
, or read between your little smart-ass comments when it comes to what you want...Why is that, Claire?”

“I...” I couldn’t focus when he looked at me like this, when he locked his eyes on mine and demanded answers that I didn’t have.

“If you like when I fuck you with my mouth, why don’t you ever say that when we’re at home?”

I bit my lip as he slipped a finger inside of me, as he held me steady with his other arm.

“Hmmm, Claire? I’m standing
right here
...Tell me what you want...”

“Jonathan...” I moaned; he was pressing his thumb against my clit, punishing it with slow, sensuous circles.

“You can’t tell me right now because you’d rather wait until you get to work and tell me in a
text message
?”

“No...”

“Then tell me what you like...”

“
Everything
...”

He closed the little space that was left between us, keeping his thumb busy, bringing his mouth close to my ear. “Tell me you love it when I fuck you with my mouth.”

“I do.”

“
Say. It
.”

I swallowed. “I love when you go down on me...”

He sighed and slowly pulled away from me, and I thought he was going to step over and hit the start button, but he spun me around so that I was facing the corner and gripped my waist. “You were right...We do need
better communication
.”

“Jonathan, there are federal offices in here. The fire department is going to—” I stopped once I felt him sliding into me, forcing himself deeper and deeper.

“If you think that I’m going to be happy in a marriage where my own wife can’t tell me what she wants, you’re sadly mistaken, Claire...” He held me completely still once he was entirely inside. Kissing the back of my neck, he whispered once again, “Tell. Me. What. You. Like.”

I couldn’t think. I was too pre-occupied with thoughts of the fire department calling the elevator to check on us, thoughts about how my standing in a corner with Jonathan buried deep inside of me would look.

Before I could snap back into reality and answer him, he pulled out and quickly thrust himself back in—
over and over
, making me scream louder than ever.

“I asked you a question, Claire.” He gripped my breasts and squeezed them, slamming into me with each moan I let escape from my mouth.

“I...I like...” I stuttered. “I like when you...”

“
Yes
?” He moved one of his hands down to my clit and started rubbing it in a rhythm he knew all too well.

“When you...”

“Fuck me with your mouth...” He was speeding up his thrusts now, making it harder and harder for me to talk straight. “
Finish. The .Sentence
.”

“Wait...I...I like when...when you—”

BEEP! BEEP!

“Elevator car number 510 at Waldo and Emerson Associates, This is responding unit 861.” A voice came over the speakers. “Speaking to you right now is fire chief Brennan Marshall. We’ve noticed the current cart has stalled for over six minutes. Are there any persons inside?”

BEEP! BEEP!

“You know I don’t care if they see us like this...” Jonathan reached down for my hands, pulling them up over my head and pressing them against the wall. “And I won’t stop when they open the doors if you haven’t answered me.”

“Are there any persons inside?” The fire chief repeated. “Hmmm. Might be an empty cart gentlemen,” he said in a lowered voice.

“There
are
persons inside.” Jonathan answered calmly, but his thrusts inside of me were the exact opposite. I was doing my best to hold my breath and bite down on my lip to prevent myself from screaming again.

“Okay, hold tight. We’ll send a team over now.”

There was another series of beeps to end the conversation, and then everything around me went hazy—blurred. I was suddenly screaming at the top of my lungs as he pushed me to the verge of an orgasm, as he demanded that I answer him one last time.

“I
love
when you...” I let my head fall back against his shoulder, let my body completely go. “When you fuck me with your mouth...” I shut my eyes as my knees gave in beneath me, as he slowly slid out of me and let me fall down to the floor.

I wanted to sit like that forever—on a high, in bliss, but Jonathan pulled me up and held me against his side, hitting the stop button and pressing the level that was right above the lobby.

When we stepped off the elevator, he kept me tucked by his side and led me down the emergency stairwell and outside. As soon as the first whiff of fresh air hit my face, I took a deep breath. “Do you
always
have to do that to me? Is it impossible for you to
wait
?”

“It’s the only way to get you to tell me the truth...” He released me. “And I think you
like
it...”

I rolled my eyes and tried not to smile.

“I love you, Claire.” He kissed my forehead and adjusted my necklace. “I don’t know why you’re still so reserved about discussing sex with me, but you shouldn’t be. You should be able to tell me what you want,
whenever
you want, and I’ll make sure it gets done.” He kissed me again and wrapped his arms around my waist, leading me over to the parking lot.

As we approached our cars—town car for me, Bugatti for him, he spun me around to face him.

“Do you still think we need pre-marital counseling? Are there any other
intimacy issues
we need to discuss?”

“No...”

“Hmmm...” He pressed his lips against mine. “You are
so lucky
that I have a flight to catch right now,” he said as he slowly pulled his mouth away from me, as he pressed my crumpled notecard into my hand. “Be home by six.”

––––––––

D
ays later, I stood in my office and stared at the newest set of family photos I’d hung on my wall: pictures of me, Ashley, Caroline, and Jonathan hanging out at a private lake.

In one photo, the four of us were building a large sand castle, laughing at how long it’d taken us to put it together. In another we were rowing four small kayaks across the water.

Ever since Ashley and Caroline had gone off early to college in Arizona, my days at home were a lot less noisy. They were actually quite boring.

I missed the two of them lying around on the couch—talking about absolutely nothing, laughing at my terrible jokes, and ultimately getting on my nerves from time to time. I
missed
that.

Now, instead of family dinners on Sunday and Thursday nights, Jonathan and I simply went over to his little sister Hayley’s condo and ate dinner with her. Although he never admitted it, Jonathan was missing family dinners too; I was pretty sure that was why he’d already planned a week of meals for their Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks.

“Miss Gracen?” My assistant interrupted my thoughts.

“Yes, Rita?”

“Your daily flowers from Mr. Statham have just arrived. Would you like them in here?”

“Yes, please.” I leaned back and watched as she pulled a small cart of flowers—orchids, Baby’s Breath, and white carnations, into my office.

As usual, there was a silver card with a note on top:

Dear Future Wife,

Do I need to start picking you up from work to get you home in time to eat dinner with me? You’ve been late all week.

Stop Testing Me.

Love,

Your Future Husband

I laughed. I was about to pick up my phone and call him, but Rita stepped inside my office again.

“Your three o’ clock is here now,” she said. “I’m going to go ahead and bring her back before my lunch break.”

“Thank you, Rita.” I stood up and smoothed my dress, ready to seal another deal, blocking everything else out.

As soon as the client walked inside my office, my mind was focused on white columns, framed cabinets, and the stained wood necessary to create a brand new space. She and I talked for hours, negotiating the timeline, the best materials, and of course—the cost for everything.

When I handed her the final contract, she nodded her head and grabbed a pen to sign it. “Everything looks really good, Miss Gracen. These dates work well for me.”

“Great. I’m really looking forward to designing your new living room, Mrs. Klein.” I shook her hand and stood up.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be just as fabulous as all your other work.”

“I guarantee it.” I led her out of my office and back inside the storefront, pulling all the drapes closed once she walked outside.

I’ll finally get to make it home on time today...

I started straightening the pillow display that was over by the bay window, making sure all the tags were tightly tucked underneath. I was tempted to lay across them and relax, but my phone rang. Jonathan.

“Hello?”

“Hello,
Claire
.” His deep voice still had the power to make me melt. “What are you doing right now?”

“I’m...I’m closing the store. You?”

“I’m driving. Are you tired?”

“Why?”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m
too tired
to have sex with you right now.”

He laughed. “Would you like me to reschedule our meeting with the wedding planner then?”

“No!” I’d been looking forward to that meeting for weeks. “Not at all.”

“Good. I’m on my way to pick you up. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“See you soon.” I hung up and started swiping a mini-duster over all the candle shelves.

I was halfway done when I heard the bell over the door ring.

“I’ll be right there.” I sighed and didn’t bother turning around. “Let me finish this last shelf and—”

“
Claire
?”

My blood boiled at the very sound of that voice.

I shook my head, knowing that I couldn’t be standing in my store. I had to be at home and asleep in my bed. I had to be dreaming. I had to be having a
nightmare
.

“Claire?” He asked again, and I pinched myself before slowly turning around.

I wasn’t at home. I wasn’t dreaming.

It was
Ryan
. 

“What are you doing here?” I hissed.

“I almost didn’t recognize you when I walked in. You look good,
really
good...” He looked me up and down. “Life must be treating you well.”