8
No Place Like Home
“Camon! Stop splashing your sister!” Hope tried unsuccessfully to prevent water from touching the hair that in anticipation of her husband’s return had been pressed bone straight by her San Diego hairdresser just hours before.
“Why, Mommy? I like it!” Obviously four-year-old boys had no concern for hundred-dollar dos.
“I like splashing!” Acacia cried, mimicking her brother in word and deed.
“Stop it, you two!” Hope scolded, but the laughter that followed belied the severity of her words. Cy always warned her that when it came to their twins, she was a complete pushover. He was right. Hope’s mother, Pat, said it was because of how long Hope had wished for children, and how hard it had been to get pregnant. Hope chose to believe it was because her children were perfect. But she also readily admitted her bias to anyone who asked.
“Look, Mommy!” Acacia held up a colorful floating block.
“No!”
Too late. The block that Acacia held quickly became a splashing weapon, coming down hard in the water and effectively soaking Hope’s hair, face, and top.
“Hahaha!” Camon loved his sister’s antics, so much so that he copied them exactly.
Their giggles filled the bathroom, and Hope simply couldn’t be mad. If you can’t beat them, join them. “All right, you little boogers,” she exclaimed, reaching for one of the foam toys and squishing the water over Camon’s head. “You think bath time is fun time, huh? Huh?” Water splashed over the side of the tub, soaking the towel and rug beneath her knees. “Sorry, Rosie,” Hope murmured, thinking of her housekeeper, who would clean up the mess she and her children had made. After a minute more of splashing, Hope decided they’d had enough. “Come on, you dolphins! Out of the water.”
Just as she reached over to unplug the tub, a voice boomed into the room. “What’s going on here?”
Three pairs of large, brown orbs looked at each other before Hope and the twins simultaneously exclaimed, “Daddy!”
Cy entered the room, chuckling as he took in the motley crew.
“Ooh, baby, you’re home early,” Hope said, unplugging the tub with one hand while reaching for a towel with the other. “I planned to have the twins in bed and be dressed all sexy for you when you got home.”
Cy took in his disheveled wife, hair half straight and half curly from being splashed, T-shirt wet and sticking to perky nipples, his twins behind her, wet from head to toe. “Baby, right now I can’t imagine a sexier scene.” He walked over and, taking no regard for his eight-thousand-dollar suit, wrapped her in his arms. They shared a quick kiss before each parent wrapped a towel around a kid and scooped them up in their arms.
“Where you been, Daddy?” Acacia wrapped her arms around the man who was totally and completely in love with her, and the first man she’d ever loved.
“Daddy went to New York, baby.”
“What’s New Work?” Camon asked.
“New York,” Cy corrected, enunciating the word. “It’s a city that is far, far away.” Cy looked over his shoulder at Hope. “Haven’t they been working with the lighted globe?”
“Please. They’ve been working with some of everything.”
Thirty minutes later, Hope and Cy walked the children to their bedroom, dressed them for bed, and read them a bedtime story that promptly put them to sleep. The couple had retired to their bedroom where Hope now rid herself of the clothing that was almost soaked to the bone as her husband lustfully eyed her.
“What?” Hope asked, fully knowing the answer to why her husband wore the expression he did. It was for the same reason her va-jay-jay was vibrating like a ten-dollar dildo. Amazing that after being married all this time her man could still almost make her come with a simple look, a warm smile. Yet here she was, draped in a towel as she prepared to step into the shower, about ready to explode before her husband had so much as touched her.
“This here,” he said, reaching out to tweak her hardened nipple. “And this.” He ran a strong index finger from her weighty breasts down to her navel, even as he leaned in for a soft kiss on the top of her head. His arm went around her, pulling her closer to his still-clothed body. “I missed you,” he whispered, before covering her mouth with his.
She felt his heat rise and harden. “Me too.” Words dissolved under the intensity of their reconnected desire, as hands sought and found various body parts: shoulders, hips, backs, buttocks.
Cy took her juicy booty in both hands and pressed her against him. “Mind if I join you in the shower?” he asked against her opened mouth.
“I’d love for you to join me,” she purred. “You can tell me all about your trip.”
He took off his black cotton boxers and nine inches of stiff goodness bobbed and weaved its greeting. “Oh, you want to hear about New York. Is that the only reason?”
Hope looked down at one of God’s gifts, before glancing up shyly. “Not the only one.” This time she didn’t resist when Cy reached for her hand and led them into the shower, one of her favorite places in the house. With six shower heads strategically placed on the ceiling and walls, the bather could literally be massaged from everywhere.
But with the way Cy’s hands were molding themselves to her frame, there was no need for any other type of massage. He ran his hands through her wet hair, slid his tongue over her lips, and ran a finger down the crease of her buttocks. She gasped, and he used this opportunity to thrust his tongue into her mouth, grinding against her pelvis as he backed them to a wall. With one swift movement he’d lifted her off the floor. “I need you so badly, Hope. Are you ready for me?”
She nodded, and it was all the encouragement he needed. He made them one with one fell swoop, buried himself deep inside her wet, pulsating warmth, guided her legs around his waist, and plundered her mouth while he plundered her sex. Hope gave as good as she got, rotating her hips to make sure that no area of her pleasure went untouched. “Ooh, baby, you feel. So. Good.”
“It’s you,” Cy countered, pulling out so that his throbbing head pulsed against her sensitive spot, just the way he knew she liked it.
“Oh, baby! I’m coming!” Hope screamed her pleasure, surprised at how quickly she’d reached her peak, and how ready she was for yet another round. “I love you.” Her legs shook as he gently placed her feet on the floor, showering kisses on her face. Her breath came in short, deep spurts as she tried to regain her equilibrium. No one could get her discombobulated as quickly as her husband, a fact that he proved again in short order. Her breath returning to normal, she lay her head against her husband’s wet shoulder. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered.
Cy’s chuckle was that of a secure brother who knew he’d just given his woman the ultimate pleasure “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
After making quick work of their shower, with Cy using his tongue as effectively as he used the sponge, and then applying lotion to his wife’s body before she returned the favor, they retired to the custom made king-sized bed that anchored the master space. Hope climbed into the middle of the bed, knowing that that was exactly where her husband wanted her. After another, more leisurely round of love-making, Hope snuggled into Cy’s embrace as they lay spoon style.
“Thank you, baby,” she said.
Cy yawned as he asked, “For what?”
“For loving me so completely and unconditionally. I don’t want to ever take what we have for granted.”
“Me either, love.”
“I did once, you know. When I was so obsessed with getting pregnant, making your life miserable with my crazy paranoia.”
“If I remember correctly, someone was already pregnant and dealing with some serious hormonal fluctuations.”
“I know but—”
“Uh-uh. No buts. Those days are behind us. Let’s just enjoy what we have right now.”
“You’re right.” She turned to face him, lightly kissed his lips. “I love you, Cy.”
“I love you, too.”
It was true. Cy adored her, not only as his wife, best friend and confidante, but also as the mother of his children. Which is why no one was more surprised than he when during those last seconds of wakefulness his mind was not on Hope, but rather on Trisha Underwood . . . his long lost love.