“Yes,” she says, covering a yawn.
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her to our bedroom. I push open the door and step back, letting her enter first. I hear a small gasp and know I’ve surprised her. Stepping in behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and settle my chin on the top of her head.
“When did you do this?” she asks.
“When I got home. I might have left the office a little early,” I confess. I take in the room before us and survey my handiwork. The soft glow of the battery-operated candles I purchased online set a romantic glow across the room. There’s a bouquet of roses on the table by the window. I don’t have to count them to know there are sixteen long-stem roses in the vase.
Saylor pulls out of my hold and goes straight for the bouquet. Her lips move as she counts each red rose. Done, she turns to me and smiles. “Sixteen,” she says in awe.
She didn’t need to count them either. I’ve given her one rose for every year of marriage since our first anniversary. I will continue to do so. Saylor didn’t have a lot of traditions growing up. In fact, until Elaine adopted her, there was not much of anything in her life. She always dreamed for a family of her own, and those traditions, so that’s what I’m giving her. This isn’t the only tradition we’ve made with our family, but it’s one I cherish. I love our children, but this one is ours. It’s just for us. Me and Short Stack.
“Happy Anniversary, baby,” I say, going to her and wrapping my arms around her waist. Her hands come up around my neck, and she pulls my lips to hers.
“I love you, Rhett Baxter.”
“Oh, Short Stack.” I grip her hips and lift her into my arms. She immediately wraps her legs around my waist and locks them tight. “I cherish you,” I whisper against her lips. Love doesn’t seem like a strong enough word when it comes to my wife. She’s the anchor of our family, and the air I breathe.
“Make love to me,” she says, taking my lips with hers once again.
Not needing to be told twice, I carry her to the door and flip the lock. Nothing kills the mood like one of your kids walking in and catching you in the act. Gracie was two when it happened, but I’m scarred for life. I carry her to the bed and gently set her on her feet. Piece by piece, I remove her clothing. My mouth goes dry from the sight of her standing before me with nothing against her creamy white skin. With extreme effort, I keep my hands to my sides, as I bend down and capture a pert nipple in my mouth. My tongue swipes at the swollen bud.
Her hands grip the back of my neck as she buries her hands in my hair. “Whiskey.” She pants.
“Yeah, baby?” I ask, releasing her nipple with an audible pop and moving on to the other.
“Too many clothes,” she says between moans. As if to prove her point, her hands move to the hem of my T-shirt, and she pulls.
“Off… oh, there,” she says as my teeth graze over her nipple, my tongue soothing the action, taking away the sting.
Pulling away from her, I stand to my full height and take a step back. My chest is rapidly rising and falling as I take her in.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“I had this all planned out. I was going to take my time with you tonight. Show you that even now, sixteen years later, that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Then why are you all the way over there?”
“Because I want to fuck you,” I grit out.
“Then wha
t are you waiting for, Whiskey?” she asks huskily.
“Saylor.” Her name is a warning. “I’m trying to make this romantic, but tonight… I can’t seem to do that. My need for you is at an all-time high.”
“Romance is more than just soft lovemaking, Rhett.”
“I had a plan,” I say again, my fists gripped so tightly beside me my nails cut into my skin.
“Plans change.” She stands from the bed and steps toward me. I don’t move. I can’t move. She drops to her knees in front of me. “Bet you didn’t plan for this,” she says.
I stand as still as a statue as I watch her pull my shorts down my legs, my underwear going with them. Before they’re even around my ankles, she has my cock in her hand and her wet hot mouth wrapped around me. “Fuck,” I grind out.
She works me, her hands and her mouth a team as she takes me deep, stroking me at the same time. “Saylor,” I say, my voice gravelly. “I’m close.” I place my hands on her shoulders and try to pull her away. My wife has other plans as she grips the backs of my thighs and bobs her head even faster. She takes me deep into the back of her throat, and I lose all control. My fist comes to my mouth, and I bite down to keep from crying out and waking up the kids. Pulse after pulse washes over me as I spill over into her mouth. She takes it all, licking me from root to tip, before standing and winking at me.
“How’s that for romance?” She smirks.
Slowly the fog of my orgasm begins to fade, and I remember what exactly it was I set out to do tonight. I want to seduce her. Romance her. Take my time to show her that she’s my everything. After all these years, my Short Stack still holds my heart in the palm of her hands.