Valentine's Fantasy. Janice Sims
“Oh. Sorry about that.” Matt fluttered a nervous smile before trying again. This time, their lips connected and their bodies sagged with relief.
However, when Matt leaned her back onto the bed, he’d forgotten about his laptop and piles of paper occupying the other side.
“Ow, ouch.” Chanté shoved him off.
“Oh, just a minute.” Matt pitched everything, including the laptop, over the side of the bed. “See? All gone.” He flashed another toothy smile and clumsily reached for her again.
Buddy barked.
“Shh. Buddy, be quiet,” Matthew warned. “You’ll scare my dream girl away.”
Chanté hesitated.
“Don’t worry, no more surprises,” he assured, patting the empty bed for emphasis.
After another beat of hesitation, Chanté decided to give it another try. She glided effortlessly into his arms and imagined herself cast into her own romance novel. But everything didn’t play out quite the way she’d hope.
Matthew grabbed for her like a starved man before an all-you-can-eat buffet. He fumbled and cursed while he tried to pry her out of her lingerie.
“Here, let me do it,” she offered before he had a chance to destroy one more thing of hers. Three snaps later, she chiseled on another smile and then lay back on the bed in all her naked glory.
That was when the real pawing began.
Matt’s once tender and caressing hands were now rough and forceful. Lips that once gave loving worship to her sensitive nipples now seemed determined to chew the damn things off.
“Easy. Easy,” she coached, wanting him to slow down and enjoy the ride. Instead, her husband skipped foreplay and went straight for the main attraction.
He entered with one mighty thrust and nearly split her in two.
What the hell?
Chanté gripped his bulging biceps and tried to hold on during the ride. However, she was nearly rendered senseless several times as her head was rammed into the headboard. Meanwhile, Buddy continued to bark his head off. This was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
“Shh, Buddy. Shh, Buddy,” Matthew hissed in between his “Oh, Gods.” His hips hammered away while his eyes damn near rolled to the back of his head.
Chanté watched in resolute boredom until Matthew stiffened with one last thrust, and then collapsed in a sweaty heap.
Is that it?
“Oh, baby. I missed you so much.” Matthew panted and peppered sloppy kisses across her face and eyes.
“Uhm.” She searched for the right words. “Matt?”
“Hmm?”
“I, uh, didn’t...well, you know.”
Matt lifted his head and stared down at her. “You didn’t?”
Chanté shook her head. Not even close.
“I, uh, I’m so—well, I guess, I did get a little carried away. It being a while and all.” He absently wiped the sweat from his brow.
She nodded in feigned understanding. “That’s all right. You can try again.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He smiled and wiggled his hips.
To Chanté’s dismay, she noted Matt Jr. wasn’t exactly standing at full salute.
“Just give me a minute to...catch my breath,” Matthew panted.
Chanté’s brows furrowed, but she had no choice but to bob her head in agreement and wait for her husband to catch his second wind.
Two minutes later, Matthew was fast asleep.
* * *
At breakfast the next morning, Seth decided it was time he dusted off his culinary skills to make his wife breakfast in bed. Unfortunately, his specialty was cold cereal.
“Oh, honey.” Edie smiled brightly when he appeared at their bedroom doorway with her breakfast tray in hand. “You shouldn’t have.”
Seth beamed proudly as if he’d prepared a five-course meal. “My baby deserves the best.”
“Special K, huh?”
“Special K with strawberries.”
“Then bring it on!” Edie set aside the pamphlets in her lap and punched up her pillows before her husband delivered her meal.
“What are these?” he asked, picking up one of the pamphlets.
“Some brochures I picked up yesterday before my talk with Chanté.”
Seth frowned as he opened one and then another. “Sex therapy? I thought the idea was to get them to see a real counselor?”
“They’re real.” Edie snatched one of the brochures back. “I’ve heard some great things about these places.”
“Where? On one of those women’s talk shows?”
Edie poked out her bottom lip as she shrugged her shoulders. “What if I did? A reference is a reference.”
“Okay, this job just went from difficult to impossible.” Seth laughed. “Sex isn’t the problem. Their ability to stay away from sharp objects is.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked, scooping out her first spoonful of cereal.
“No,” he acquiesced. “It’s not the sort of thing we talk about.”
“Well, what do you talk about?”
“His lack of sex. Five months and counting.” Seth shook his head with great sympathy. “I don’t care what anyone says, that’s cruel and unusual punishment. No wonder he’s demolishing cars.”
“I hear you.” She chomped away for a moment while her gaze returned to the pamphlets.
“Actually, I really think I’m on to something here. Last week when Chanté stormed over here about the Letterman incident, she said that Matthew used to be great in bed.”
“What the hell? Do you two give each other blow-by-blow recaps?”
“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re still a ten in my book.”
Seth straightened his shoulders as his chest swelled from the compliment. “Ten is easy when I have an eleven in my arms.”
For that, he was rewarded with a kiss.
“So you think this sex therapy will work?”
“It certainly can’t hurt.”
“Not unless there’s a chainsaw on the premises.”
Edie chuckled.
“Any idea how we’re going to get them to one of these places?” Seth asked.
“Yes. We lie.”
Chapter 8
Chanté was beyond pissed.
No car. No foreplay. No orgasm. Enough was enough.
She slammed the kitchen cabinets as she made coffee, took her morning pills, and slaved over the hot stove. Every time she thought about last night’s lousy performance, she broke a glass, a cup or a dish. How and when did Matt become so selfish and so clueless in bed?
Not only had he fallen asleep, he snored loud enough to wake the dead.
Crash!
Another plate bit the dust.
“Good morning.”
Chanté’s gaze snapped