Page 86 of 7+Us Makes Nine

Even after four children and countless sleepless nights, I always felt beautiful pressed against his rippling form.

He pulled my hair and tossed me around like the rag doll I still was to him. His tongue licked every crevice and his lips kissed every stretch mark. His hand clamped down over my mouth to keep me from drawing attention to his office. The crowd of the theater was growing, which meant more chances for people to walk in on me naked, bent over his desk. He slid into me time and time again, swallowing his grunts and encasing my thighs in his massive grasp.

His office was filled with our scent by the time we were done.

“Hell of a dessert,” I said breathlessly.

“I think it could’ve used a little more caramel syrup,” he said with a grin.

“That was a surprise, by the way. I’m all sticky now.”

“I could try cleaning you up again.”

His stare darkened and I almost took him up on the offer. Until I saw the clock hanging on his wall.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” he asked.

“The show starts in fifteen minutes,” I said with a giggle.

“Oh shit, indeed. We better piece ourselves back together.”

“My hair’s going to be down for the show now. I won’t be able to get it back up.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I love your hair when it’s down.”

We made quick work of fixing ourselves up before we walked hand-in-hand into the theater. But instead of sitting in his box seat, we had front row seats that sat right in front of the pit orchestra. I furrowed my brow as I sat down, trying to turn around and look at who was sitting in our regular seats.

I could see some shadows, but I couldn't see anyone’s face.

“Something wrong?” Jace asked.

“Just wondering why we aren’t in your box seat,” I said.

“Would you rather be up there?”

“No, no. This is great. I just didn’t expect it is all.”

The show started up and I soon forgot about the shadowy figures in the box seat. I mouthed the words to the songs I already knew and laced my fingers with Jace’s. I was entranced by the performance. Mesmerized by the performers. The beat and the heart-wrenching lyrics and the soul-searing notes. I was panting by the time the performance was done. My hands shook with the need for emotional release as tears streamed down my cheeks. I stood to my feet and clapped until my palms hurt. Whistled until my lips were dry. Whooped and hollered until I had to clear my throat of its dryness.

I was so encapsulated with bestowing upon the performers my gratitude for their performance that I didn’t notice Jace’s disappearing act.

I watched him walk out onto the stage and everything settled to a dull roar. He situated his microphone over his ear as my brow furrowed with confusion yet again.

What was Jace doing on stage?

“What a wonderful performance!” he exclaimed.

The audience burst into applause again before they started pounding their feet on the floor.

“First of all, I want to thank everyone for coming. This is the last theatrical performance of the year, and if you want my personal opinion? It was the perfect one. A story about heartbreak, healing, love, and life. What story could be better to usher in the New Year?”

Then, his eyes fell to me.

“The beautiful mother of my children is here,” Jace said.

Everyone clapped and whistled as my cheeks flushed furiously.

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