After considering that, I nod thoughtfully. “I do want to go slow. It took me years to get to the point where I’d felt I’d had enough. It’s not going to be fixed by some earnest sentiment and a roll in the bed.”
Jim stares, waiting to see where I’m going with this.
“But nothing will be hurt by that roll in the bed, right? I mean, it’s where we are the most compatible in my opinion.”
He still studies me, face impassive, and impossible to read. Just when I think he might be more gentlemanly than I give him credit for, he lets the utensils drop where they clatter onto the plate and stands abruptly from the table.
He jerks his wallet out of his jeans, pulls out a hundred-dollar bill, and tosses it on the table. His eyes intent on me, he says, “Let’s go.”
“But your food. Our beers.”
“Fuck the food and beers, Ella,” he growls, reaching to nab my arm and hauling me out of my chair. “You just gave me the green light I never thought I’d get again, and I’m not about to waste another minute.”
He forcefully drags me through the restaurant—not that I’m resisting and in fact, I’m very much enjoying this caveman treatment. We pass our waitress, and Jim tells her, “Emergency. Left you a hundred bucks on the table.”
I barely get a glimpse of the waitress’s eyes going round as saucers, and she hustles to the table before anyone can snatch that money. I laugh as Jim leads me out the door of the bar.
He might be the one showing the urgency to get to the house and get naked, but I’m just as eager. Sex with my husband has always been amazing. Never dull, always fulfilling. More than fulfilling as Jim loves to give me pleasure. My poor vibrator just isn’t a match for my husband’s talents.
Is this a mistake?
I don’t see how it is. We were having sex right up until we separated. We’re giving this a fair shot. Jim’s courting me, and I love him. Sex can’t be anything but right with my husband.
And I feel like we have a lot to make up for.CHAPTER 10SteeleElla and I practically run back to the player parking lot at the arena just a few blocks down. She’d taken an Uber to the game. Lucy had ridden with her friends and their parents since she was going home with them. When I asked Ella out for the evening, I made sure she knew I’d be the one taking her home tonight.
Not that I thought anything sexual would happen. It’s just I wanted to do things right because, in some ways, we’re starting all over again.
The mood in the car is almost silly as I navigate us out of Phoenix and into the burbs. It feels like we’re seventeen all over again, and we hold hands across the console.
It’s when I enter the neighborhood that Ella makes her move.
I can’t speak for other marriages, nor can I speak for committed relationships. But I can say, without a doubt, I won the fucking lottery with Ella when it comes to sexual inhibition.
Meaning… she has none.
She’s always been bold, willing to experiment, and is not afraid to make the first move. Now, that didn’t happen a whole hell of a lot during our marriage, because there’s really not a time I’m looking at my wife that I don’t want to touch her in some way, so I just do. Meaning, I don’t give her much opportunity to be the instigator.
But tonight, I’m getting the siren Ella, who is as eager for us to reconnect in our sexual intimacy as I am.
Releasing her hold on my hand, she leans across the console and lays her palm on my thigh. I can feel the warmth seeping through the woven khaki of my shorts, and she puts her mouth near my ear.
I almost jerk the car off the road when she slides her hand right over my crotch and whispers, “I want you in my mouth now.”
I feel it and she most certainly does, but I immediately start to swell and thicken from the weight of her hand and the wicked promise in her words.
“No argument from me,” I manage to say, my throat hoarse from the desire she just provoked.
I drive carefully, slowing my speed down through the darkened streets, which are illuminated periodically by streetlamps. Ella undoes her seatbelt, then goes to work on my pants. I lift my hips when she tugs and because this isn’t the first time she’s given me a blow job in the car, she deftly has my swollen cock in her hands and then in her mouth.
“Fuck,” I groan as hot wetness envelopes me, pulls me in deeper, and tightens. Ella is a master at sucking my cock, and she knows exactly how to work me. I’m a slave to her mouth, and she knows it.