Authors: D. T. Jones
“Was that good for you?” he asked, amusement in his deep tone. Sandra felt like slapping him, but she was exhausted beyond belief. All she could do was lay beneath him panting, then she remembered a joke she heard her grandfather tell his friends one night during poker and she began to laugh. Creighton rose up on his wrists above her, the frown pulling his brows together made her realize he thought she was laughing at him, which made her laugh even harder.
“I don’t think I’ve had a woman laugh after I’ve made love to her before,” he said, the sound of a bruised ego echoed in his deep tone.
“It’s not that,” she answered. “I was thinking of one of Papa’s jokes.”
“Do you often think of jokes after we’ve had sex?”
“No, this is a first.”
Relief shined in his eyes as he rolled off her, stretching out on the bed next to her. He pulled the clamps from her breasts in a quick jerk, smiling as she yelped in surprise.
“So what’s the joke?” he asked, turning over briefly to set the clamps on the bedside table, then rolled back and began to massage her breasts gently with his large hand.
“There are two farmers talking,” she began with a wide smile. “One owned a corn field, the other a wheat field. The first farmer said
‘I’m tired of all these teenagers; they come into my fields and leave beer bottles, cigarette butts and used condoms all over the place. They are making a mess of my land.’
Then he looks at the second farmer and says
‘How is your wheat? How is my wheat?’
The second farmer says,
‘Fucked flat.’
” Creighton laughed as he listened, watching the blush as it crept up his wife’s face.
“So what made you think about that joke after I made love to you?” he asked a few moments later.
“I feel like the wheat field.” Creighton laughed again, this time harder than before and pulled her into his strong embrace. “I think you’ve accomplished your goal, sir,” she told him, snuggling closer to his strong chest. “I doubt I will be able to walk at all tomorrow.”
“One wheelchair coming up,” he teased, kissing her forehead before reaching down and tugging the blankets back up across them.
Sandra yawned as she rested her head against her husband’s chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart soothing her into a comfortable relaxation.
“Thank you,” she told him a few moments later.
“You’re welcome…for what?”
“For giving me the adventure I’ve always dreamed of; for showing me what love is and for saving me from a life of boredom and drudgery; but mainly for loving me so much you were willing to give me a new beginning.”
“I do love you Sandra and I would move heaven and earth to make you happy.”
“Remind me to thank Michelle for bringing you to Kansas.” Creighton smiled happily as he pulled her closer to his chest, drifting into a comfortable, sound sleep with his wife by his side.
Sandra woke the next morning and frowned, the room was still very dark and she had no idea what time it was; having no windows in the room certainly did make it easy to sleep. The soft sounds of her husband asleep beside her made her smile, then cringe a little as she stretched her sore legs and arms. Being this man’s lover certainly made her realize how much she needed to strengthen her muscles, especially for encounters like their wedding night.
She glanced up to the clock on the bedside table. It was ten after seven and she realized the reason she had woken so early. She moved the covers aside as carefully as she could, so not to wake Creighton, she padded barefoot and naked into the bathroom, feeling her way through the dark room then closed the door quietly behind her and flipped on the switch, blinking her eyes to adjust to the light. After using the loo and brushing her teeth, Sandra realized she was now wide awake; going back to bed would only cause her to toss and turn waiting for Creighton to wake up. Instead she decided to go back downstairs and familiarize herself with her new surroundings and allow her husband to sleep, a rare occurrence for him.
Stepping to the walk-in wardrobe between the bathroom and bedroom, she found her burgundy leather luggage she had brought to France with her; the same ones that had been ransacked at the hotel in Cote d’Azur. Creighton had managed to get her belongings back from the police, just as he had promised he would. She lifted the larger of the two and sat it on a small chair inside the closet; opening it to search through all of the clothes she thought she had lost, even the ones Creighton bought her their first day together. Sandra found the soft dark blue pants that she liked so well from the hotel’s shop and slipped into them, smiling wickedly when she pulled them up across her naked bottom. Going without panties was becoming a habit, but one she was happy to experience, if for no other reason than the reaction of her new husband.
Sandra looked in the pockets of the case and found her brush, hair ties and her kindle with the charger. She lifted the small black device up and frowned; she had completely forgotten about having it. Cathy had given it to her as a present the day before she left for her trip. Sandra spent an entire day downloading all of her favorite books to it; reading it the entire trip to France and the first two days at the beach. How could she have so easily forgotten about it?
She took the kindle, converter and charger and found her favorite yellow tee-shirt and slipped it across her bare breasts before closing the bag and returning it to the closet. Sandra pulled her hair into a pony tail at the back of her head and padded quietly back into the bedroom, leaving the light on in the bathroom so she wouldn’t kill herself walking around in the dark. Creighton was still asleep, lying on his stomach, his hands beneath the thick pillow above his head. He looked so comfortable and relaxed and the desire to wake him was strong, but she needed time to herself as much as he needed the sleep.
The main floor of the large flat had a homey feeling to it; very warm and inviting and Sandra found herself smiling as she went into the kitchen and fixed a cup of tea. The tranquility embraced her like a warm blanket and she quickly began to settle in. Taking a cheese Danish from a dish on the counter top, she made her way back into the living room, sitting on the sofa where she had made love with her husband the previous evening. She plugged her kindle into the adapter before finding the wall outlet and pulled the small brown throw from the foot of the sofa across her legs then settled in to catch up on her first love…reading.
Sandra shuffled through her downloaded books until she decided on her well-read favorite,
Pride and Prejudice.
She flipped to her favorite section of the book, when Elizabeth was advised that Lydia had eloped and with a few sips of her hot tea, she began to read.
Nearly forty minutes later, the sounds of the bedroom door closing brought Sandra out of her trance of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet in time to see the bare chested, bare footed image of her husband emerge, a pair of worn blue jeans hanging at just the right angle across his firm hips. He smiled as he descended the stairs and walked to where she sat, looking rugged and sexy with his messy hair and the dark shadow of a morning beard across his handsome face.
“This is a sight I could get used to,” he teased, leaning over her and kissing her lips gently. He tasted of minty toothpaste and Creighton; a combination she found hard to resist.
“What’s that?” she asked trying to distract her current train of thought.
“My wife; relaxed and comfortable, alone on my old sofa as though she’s enjoying herself; you look beautiful in the morning by the way.” He winked at her before turning and padding across the floor to the kitchen, leaving her to watch his departing derriere with a tingle of excitement.
“Are you hungry?” he asked opening the fridge and retrieving the carton of organic orange juice. Sandra closed the case of her kindle and set it on the coffee table before joining him in the kitchen.
“I thought your mom was making brunch?”
“She is, but we still have a couple of hours. I don’t want you starving to death before we get there.”
“I think I can survive two hours, besides I had a pastry.” Creighton laughed handing her a glass of juice and leaned his hip against the edge of the granite counter.
“Since you aren’t hungry for food, maybe I could convince you into coming back to bed? Or are you too sore this morning?”
“I am very sore, thank you, but that was your goal if I recall,” she smiled at the feigned expression of hurt from her accusation, causing her to laugh.
“Well, if you want to rest a bit, we can discuss some business,” he suggested, swallowing the bitter sweet juice.
“Like what?”
“Michelle sent us a list of gifts that have arrived and we need to sort through what we want and decide on what to do with the rest.”
“We need to write out thank you cards as well.”
“I have a staff to do that,” he groaned; the idea of spending the next week penning responses wasn’t his idea of fun.
“But it’s something we need to do ourselves,” she insisted. “Those people took the time to send the presents, the least we can do is thank them.”
“You don’t even like presents, so there’s no real need in thanking anyone for them.”
“I’m not immune to the idea of receiving gifts; I like them as well as the next woman.”
“Just not from me?” His hurt look was genuine as he turned his gaze to her, making her feel guilty for the direction their conversation was steering.
“I don’t like you spending thousands of dollars…or euros, whatever, on me in a single day. We can do the shopping together and chose what to buy as a couple, but I won’t object to presents on my birthday, Christmas or anniversary.”
“Agreed,” he said with a nod. “But remember, you said so.” Creighton sat his glass aside and pulled her into a warm embrace, kissing her softly then took her by the hand and led her back to the sofa where he took her kindle and logged onto it, pulling up his personal email.
They spent the next hour discussing the presents and deciding what to keep and what to donate. So far they had received two toasters, a blender, three sets of fine china, a set of twelve crystal goblets, four sets of towels, three sets of bed sheets, an assortment of picture frames, knick-knacks and kitchen utensils as well as matching bath robes and slippers, a set of luggage and a gourmet set of pots and pans. These along with over fifteen thousand euros in gift cards, gift certificates and money made Sandra feel overwhelmed.
“Still want to send those cards ourselves?” he asked with a knowing smile. Sandra felt the color tint her cheeks as she shook her head.
“It would take us a year to get through all of them.”
“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” he sighed. “Michelle said they are still receiving gifts that the office hasn’t had a chance to inspect yet.”
“Is there any way of putting a stop to it? I mean, can’t we just say no more presents; maybe ask that people make a donation to a good cause or something?”
“We can do that. I can have my publicity department send out a press update. We just need to decide on which organization you’d like the donations to go to.” Sandra thought for a moment as Creighton logged out of his email and shut the small device off, before setting it back on the table in front of them.
“What about save the whales or something eco-friendly,” she suggested. “It would go with your company design.”
“We could do that, but it may be best to suggest a second organization as well; just in case someone doesn’t like whales.”
“I read an article a few months ago about a children’s hospital in London. Could we suggest that?”
“Yes, I think that would be a great idea.” Sandra sighed as she laid her head against his shoulder. She loved the ordinary, simple feeling of sitting on the sofa beside her husband just talking. It gave her a tingle of excitement as she thought about their future.
“Are you too sore for a little diversion before we have to leave?” he asked kissing the top of her head, causing her to laugh.
“That all depends on what you have in mind, but I do have a secret to tell you.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” he asked standing and pulling her to her feet.
“I’m not wearing any panties again and I don’t plan on putting them on the rest of the day.” Creighton laughed as he bent over, taking her chin in his forefinger and thumb and lifting her face to look into his.
“You are definitely getting braver,” he whispered.
“I thought you liked clothing that was accessible?”
“I do, very much and the thought of your bare bottom rubbing against that soft material all morning makes me hot as hell.” He slapped her backside and turned her toward the stairs, walking up them with his arm around her waist.
“We don’t have time to play like you want,” she told him with a wide smile as they stepped into the bedroom. Creighton flipped on the switch near the door, bathing the room in a soft glow.
“There’s enough time for one dance and a quick romp.” Sandra giggled, watching him unfasten his pants and pull his legs out as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“So you’re going to dance for me?” she teased, leaning back on her elbows. “I approve, sir.” Creighton kicked his pants and undershorts across the room, smiling seductively to her.