Don’t Mind If “I Do” by Everly Ashton

Forty

Nick

It’s ridiculous that I’m nervous for my date with my wife tonight, but I am. I’m afraid she won’t like what I’ve planned. It’s not extravagant like Jeffers probably would have planned. Mazzy comes from a rich family and she’s seen most of the world. Done things most people only see in magazines or online. When I planned our night, I decided to do what she would enjoy rather than something that would impress her.

When she asked me what to wear, I told her to dress comfortably, not to dress up, and that I’d meet her in the upstairs hall at seven o’clock. She’s been up there since five, showering and getting ready, while I’ve been making sure everything on my end is taken care of. It’s her expectations that worry me the most if I’m honest.

When I head up the stairs at seven, she’s already waiting. Her hair is down and curled into waves, her makeup perfect as usual. Not nearly as heavy as when we went to the diabetes fundraiser, but more than she wears during the day. Her dark, fitted jeans show off her curves, and her emerald silk tank top sets off the red in her hair.

“This is dressing comfortably?” I say.

“Well, you wouldn’t tell me what we were doing, and I’d always rather be overdressed than underdressed. Don’t I look okay?” She holds her hands out to her sides.

“You look amazing, as always.” I place a chaste kiss on her lips. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Holding her hand, I lead her into the family room where I’ve set everything up.

I’ve shifted the furniture around, and in the center of the room stands two easels with blank canvases and a small table in between with paints and paintbrushes.

Lilac candles burn throughout the room—because lilac is her favorite scent. Dinner from her favorite restaurant is being kept warm in the oven. And her favorite bottle of wine chills in the fridge.

“What’s all this?” she says, looking around the room.

“We’re going to paint. I hear a lot of the nurses at work talk about the wine and paint nights and I thought it would be fun to do together. Besides, you used to like to paint when we were younger. Maybe this can be one of the things you explore.”

She steps up to one of the canvases with what appears like wonder and picks up a paintbrush. “I forgot how much I used to love to paint. It’s been so long.” She fingers the bristles on one of the paintbrushes then turns back to me with a wide smile that lights up her eyes. “This is going to be so much fun. Thank you.”

“Let me go get us each a glass of wine and I’ll explain more.”

She nods and continues checking everything out. I walk to the kitchen, pour us each a glass of wine, and return to the living room. She’s pulled her hair back into a ponytail that showcases her neck and entices me to run my tongue over her skin.

“Here you go.” I pass her a glass.

“Thank you.”

“I know people usually go somewhere and do this in a big group, but I wanted it to just be me and you. So I found a woman who normally teaches these things and paid her to record it for us so we can do it by ourselves. I have the video on my phone, so I’ll AirPlay it to the TV.”

“What are we painting?” She sips her wine and sets it on the table holding all the paints and brushes.

“A lake with a mountain in the background and a sunset sky. Don’t expect much from me though. I’ve never painted in my life.”

She shrugs. “You save lives for a living. I suppose you’re forgiven.”

I chuckle. “Okay, let me start the video.”

She rests her hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t we start with getting the paint into the trays and water in our rinse cups?”

I set down the remote. “Right. That’s what I meant to say.”

She laughs as I grab two cups and disappear into the kitchen. Damn, I love the sound of her happiness.

* * *

We endup turning our easels back to back so the other can’t see until we’re finished. Now it’s the moment of truth.

“Ready?” Mazzy says with a giant grin. Hers will be better than mine, I guarantee.

“One. Two. Three.”

We flip our paintings, and she laughs when she sees mine. I don’t blame her. It’s pretty hard to even tell what the mountain is. But hers looks like a real work of art. The way she’s shaded the sunset sky and the depth she put in the peaks and valleys of the mountain is impressive.

“Wow. Yours is killer,” I say.

“I’m not sure I can say the same for yours, sorry.” She’s cringes although she’s still laughing.

“What do you mean? This could go up beside a Picasso and no one would know the difference.”

“Everyone would know the difference.”

I turn my painting back around to face me. “It looks like a second grader painted it. But you’re supposed to love it because I painted it.”

“I do. Let’s hang it on the wall. People will think we bought it from an elementary school art fair.”

I set the painting back on the easel and step toward her. “You’d better take that back, Mrs. Ryan.”

“Or what?” she says in a flirty voice.

I step closer. “Or I’ll make you wish you had.”

“I’d like to see you try.” She walks toward me until we’re chest to chest.

Before she can do whatever she has planned, I dip my finger in the closest paint tray and mark her nose with a dot of pink.

Her eyes widen in shock. “I can’t believe you just did that.” She follows suit and drags an orange line down the bridge of my nose.

“Now you’re really asking for it.”

“I’ve been asking for it for a while, you just won’t give it to me.” Her lids grow heavy the longer our banter flows.

“What would you say if I told you that I was going to give it to you until you’re begging me to stop tonight?”

“Well then, I’d ask what you’re waiting for.”

As if someone started a stopwatch and said go, we come together like the clash of opposing armies, our mouths fusing together, our tongues tangling. I grip her ass, the denim rough against my palms. Her nipples poke through both our shirts because she’s not wearing a bra.

I place my hands on either side of her face and tilt it for my tongue to get deeper into her mouth. My cock hardens and I grind it along her stomach, spurring a moan from both of us.

“I can’t wait any longer,” I say.

“Finally.”

I chuckle and take her hand to lead her up the stairs. “Let’s go to bed. We can christen this room tomorrow.”

“I always knew you were a smart man, Mr. Ryan.”

“Why thank you, Mrs. Ryan.”

By the time we reach the bedroom, the frenetic energy has worn off. Now I want to take my time with this woman so that I can really feel every sensation between us and experience it to its fullest.

I close our kiss and step back from her, taking in her beauty. She stares back at me, eyes full of emotion and lust. Looking so damn cute with the pink paint smeared down her nose. Stepping forward, I take the hem of her silk tank top and pull it up her body. She holds her arms up so I can slide it off easily, and I toss it on the floor. She sucks in a breath when I unbutton her jeans and slide down the zipper.

Once her jeans are off, I straighten up and take her beauty in once more. “You have great taste in lingerie.”

She smiles. She’s wearing silk panties that match the green of her tank top. I can see the center of her panties are wet and I lick my lips, eager as a starved animal to taste her.

“Get on the bed,” I say in a rough voice.

She obeys, and I’m granted with a great view of her ass when she crawls up the mattress. She lies back once she’s reached the headboard, and she teases me by spreading her legs.

I crawl up the bed toward her until she’s caged underneath me. “I’ve thought about this a lot, Maz. You have no idea.”

She clutches my shirt and pulls me down to her. “Me too.”

Our lips meet and any self-restraint vanishes. She wraps her legs around my waist while I nip and lick and soothe her mouth with my own. I push my hips forward, and a low hum echoes out of her throat.

We roll over and she straddles me. Her hands glide up my torso under the hem of my shirt, and I help her remove it. She trails open mouth kisses down my chest, her hair like a curtain of fire blocking any sight of her eyes.

When she kisses her way down, she undoes my belt and pulls down my zipper. She moves to the side so she can yank my pants over my legs, and I help kick them off. My hard dick strains the confines of my cotton briefs, and she drags her hand over the bulge as though she’s been waiting all year for it. With her jaw slack and her eyelids heavy as she’s half naked—she’s never looked so sexy.