Page 35 of Untangled
Daniel doesn’t know that I read the day’s card without him. If he did, he’d be privy to my plan to join him in the shower a minute from now. Is it probable that today’s prompt meant, “Do something non-sexual together”? Yes. Did weconnect outside the bedroomin the living room last week? Also yes. Let’s just say the card is open to interpretation, and my preferred interpretation isshower sex.
I slip into the bathroom unnoticed; the pounding of the water and whatever tune Daniel’s humming cover my footsteps. Next: I head to the closet to shed my uniform (athleisure that saysshe’s going to the gymbut meansshe’s no longer interested in hard pants and underwires). I take inventory of my naked body in the mirror. Stretch marks line my stomach and the side of my hips. There’s a softness now where my collarbone used to show and where my abs were once defined.
That’s what I notice, but it’s not what Isee. Tonight, I see a woman sculpted out of marble, with a body so worthy of worship, it’s captured forever in stone. I’m Venus de Milo, and my cellulite is chisel marks from a master artist.
I see myself through Daniel’s eyes—those hungry, heavy pools that linger on the parts of me I spent so long covering.
For the first time, I see myself clearly, as a strong woman with a body that can create new life and bring another to his knees. I’m at home in my body; I’m embodied.
I glide from the closet to the shower door, swinging it open with a bit too much force and closing it gently on account of the glass.
“Baby?” Daniel says, with his back and enviable ass toward me and his face in the water’s stream.
“Figured you wouldn’t mind company,” I reply, stepping behind him and wrapping my arms around his middle. My head finds its home in the notch between his shoulder blades.
“Never, come here.” He spins until we’re chest to chest and I’m pressed against his warm, wet skin. “What’s the occasion?”
While yes, it’s been awhile since we’ve showered together, does a wife need a reason to get sudsy with her spouse?
“The day’s card,” I reply. “We’re supposed toconnect outside the bedroom. As far as I’m concerned, the bathroom counts.”
“Definitely counts.”
With a thumb on my chin and his fingers gripping my ass, he brings his mouth to mine. Slow, searching kisses with gentle swipes of his tongue until I can feel his erection growing against me. Then it’s deeper kisses and roaming hands, skin slipping against skin as we feel and tug, nip and tease until my nipples are pebbled and the wetness between my legs is making me dirty, not clean.
“How ‘bout I sit?” he says, backing himself to the bench that lines the shower’s wall. With a sweep of his hand, shampoo bottles and body wash pumps fall to the floor. A chorus echoes through the space as raindrops hit the half-empty bottles, each with their own tone as water slaps the plastic in rhythm. It’s the sort of noise that would bother me if I wasn’t entirely focused on straddling Daniel’s lap.
With spread legs and a gaze so heated it makes me shiver, he brings me on top of him. My pussy rests on his cock until I lift up on my knees. I reach between us and grip him at the base, sliding him between my lips to tease both of us, tip to clit, before bringing him to my entrance. Withunwavering eye contact, I take him inch by inch until we’re both fully seated—him inside me and my ass on the top of his thighs. In this position, at this angle, his length takes up every millimeter of space, stuffing me full. I feel him at my cervix, at my entrance, pushing against my walls. He’s everywhere and I can barely breathe.
“God, you feel so good, baby,” he says with fingertips in the flesh of my hips. He’s still, I’m still, and the pressure of him between my legs has me aching for movement, fearful it will dissipate. I wrap my arms around his neck, lean my forehead on his shoulder and grind against him. My moan echoes in the steam and hovers.
“Youfeel so good,” I whimper.
I set a rhythm: rocking, grinding, sometimes leaning too far forward so he almost slips out before slamming back down. Stars puncture the black behind my eyes as he groans, brings his hands to my hair, sucks at my neck to leave a bruise. It’s so much and it’s still not enough.
I need more of his touch. I need stimulation beyond the glorious, relentless pounding at my g-spot. To grant him access to my chest, my clit, I bring my hands to my heels. Here, I am wide open for the taking. Daniel drops his eyes to watch as he disappears into my body, in and out and back again. He tilts a hand to rub his thumb against the most sensitive part of me, up and down and then in circles, never taking his eyes off my pussy and the way I welcome him into my body.
It builds quickly, pleasure and pressure low in my belly. My legs begin to tremble with it, my fingers losing purchase on my slippery feet. He keeps one hand at my clit and wraps a strong arm around my waist, holding me up.
“Look at me, Molls,” he says while we’re eye to eye and my body rocks with need, without conscious thought. “Look at me when you come.”
“Now? Please, tell me I can come now?” I ask on a choked breath.
“Yes, come for me, baby.”
And I do, with a soft body and sparks dancing on my skin and my eyes locked on his as he follows.
“We should probably clean you up,” he says, after a languid, lingering moment with our foreheads pressed together and heavy exhales between us.
Pointing to the bottles on the floor as I climb off his lap, I say, “Thatiswhat the shower’s for,” and he rolls his eyes like he’s sick of me (endearing).
With a warm washcloth in hand, he sweeps between my legs to clear what he can of his release. Then, with a rinse and a fresh squirt of soap, he brings it to my back. In the quiet and steam, he serves me, honors me, loves me from my head to my toes. With gentle strokes, he roughs away the dead and I welcome the new.
I feel new, and it feels so good.
Day 23
Bake something together.
