Futures and Frosting (13 page)

I laugh along
with her and rub my hands in slow circles around her back.

“You can still
run you know.  If you want to make like the Road Runner and bust through the
door leaving an imprint of your body behind, I won’t blame you.”

She looks up at
me and smiles but I can tell she is kind of serious.

“Listen to me.
Nothing matters but you, me, and Gavin.  There is absolutely nothing that
either one of our families can do to ruin this.”

Ask her to
marry you.  Do it now!

“Claire…”

“Don’t say it,”
she warns.

What the
fuck?  Can she read my mind?  Claire, nod once if you can hear me.

“Don’t tell me
it was no big deal and that you don’t care what your parent’s think.”

Oh thank God.

“Fine, I won’t say
it.  I’ll just think it.”

Will you
marry me?  Will you marry me?  Why the fuck is this so hard to say? There is
nothing else more important right now than asking this question!

“I have a great
idea.  How about you take my mind off of everything by having sex with me on
the kitchen counter,” she says with a wag of her eyebrows.

Okay, this
might trump the proposal.

Before I can
stop her...oh who am I kidding? Like I’d really stop her from banging me in the
kitchen. She leans up on her tiptoes and presses her mouth to mine.  The kiss
quickly turns deeper and her tongue sweeping through my mouth instantly makes
me hard.  I pull away from her mouth long enough to lift her up onto the
counter next to the sink.  Her legs wrap around my waist and her hands go to
work unbuttoning my jeans.  Before I can even take another breath, her hand is
inside my boxers, wrapping around my length.

“Fuck,” I
mutter, leaning my forehead against hers as she works her small hand from base
to tip, tortuously slow.  As my hips rock with the movements of her hand, I
slide my palms up the outside of her bare thighs, my fingers inching slowly
under the hem of her skirt until I wrap them around the strings of her thong
that rest on her hips.

She unwinds her
legs from around my waist and lets them dangle off of the edge of the counter
so I can slide the black, lacy scrap of material off of her and fling it to the
floor.

My eyes travel
up her long, smooth legs, and her skirt pushes up to the top of her thighs.  I
let my hands follow the movement of my eyes, touching every inch of skin I look
at.  I part her thighs as I go, sliding my hands around her hips to cup her ass
and bring her body closer to the edge of the counter.

Her hands move
to the waistband of my boxer briefs and I almost whimper at the loss of her
warm palm and fingers stroking me into oblivion.  She uses both hands to push
my boxer briefs down my hips just far enough for my cock to free itself.

I step closer
between her thighs until the head of my erection meets her wet center. 
Gritting my teeth with the need to bury myself inside of her, I slide the tip
of my cock up through her heat and circle it around her clit.  Her legs slide
back up the outside of my thighs, and she locks her feet behind my back, her
ankles digging into my ass as she pulls me harder against her, and I slip
inside of her one slow inch at a time.

“Jeeeeeesus, you
feel good,” I whisper against her lips as I rock my hips against her.

“This is the
best
phone call
we’ve ever made,” she says with a laugh as she wraps her
arms around my shoulders.

“I’ve never made
a
phone call
in the kitchen before.  It always seemed unsanitary,” I
state as Claire lifts her hips to meet my thrusts.

“Please don’t
make me think about the fact that you just sliced a roast on this counter,” she
says between moans.

“At least we’re
doing this
after
I cut the meat.  Otherwise we would have served our
family and friends ass-roast with a side of sex juices.”

Claire’s fingers
slide through the back of my hair and clutches onto it so hard I wince and slow
down my movements.

“Seriously?  Do
you want me to throw up on you while we’re doing this?  Never, ever use that
sentence again.”

I chuckle and
pull her body tighter against mine, wrapping my arms around her.  I try to keep
my movements slow but it just feels too fucking good.  I kiss a trail down her
neck and start to swivel my hips in a circle.  Claire’s fingernails dig into my
shoulder blades, and I feel her entire body shudder.

“Oh my God, keep
doing that,” she moans.

I should ask
her to marry me now.  If I do it while she’s coming, she probably won’t be able
to say no.  It would be physically impossible.  Like performing a sex
exorcist.  THE POWER OF THE ORGASM COMPELS YOU!

“Oh fuck!” she
cries as she pushes herself harder against me and lets her head fall back
against the cabinet behind her as her orgasm builds.

Marry me,
marry me, marry me.

“Yes!  Oh my God
yes!”

I wonder if I
could pretend that conversation just happened
outside
of my head and
convince her of it.  Just start going around telling people she said yes. 
“Yes, Grandma, we’re getting married!  What’s that you say?  How did I do it? 
Oh, I was fucking her on the kitchen counter, you know, where we prepare food,
and it just slipped out!  No, not my penis.  The question.”

I smack a hand
down on the counter next to her to hold myself steady as I plunge in and out of
her faster and harder, trying to banish all thoughts of talking to my
grandmother about slippery penises.

It helps that
every time with Claire is like the first time.  Just without all the booze,
virginity robbing, and not knowing each other’s names.  I know more than ever
that this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.  I slide my
other hand off of her ass and glide my fingers down to where we are connected. 
Claire lets out a gasp as I touched her with the tips of my fingers and draw
her orgasm out of her.  She comes quickly and moans my name, her breath hot
against my ear.  It's the sexiest thing in the world and my own release shoots
its way up through my body and explodes out of me.  I bury my face into the
side of her neck and shout the words I’ve been worrying about for weeks.  Well,
I don’t shout them so much as muffle them really loudly since my mouth is
pushed against her skin.

We clutch onto
each other for several minutes, breathing heavy and not uttering a word.

Shit!  She’s
probably mortified I asked her to marry me while I came and thinks it’s just
post orgasmic bliss or something equally as fucked up.  That’s why she isn’t
saying anything.

I pull my head
out of the crook of her neck and chance a look at her.  She's looking at me
funny, almost like she felt a little sick to her stomach just from the sight of
me.

Oh that’s
just super.  The thought of marrying me makes her want to hurl.

“Um, Carter?”

“It’s okay. You
don’t have to say anything,” I tell her quickly.

I think it’s
safe to say my humiliation level at this moment is at an all time high.  My
penis is still inside of her.  Does she WANT to make it shrivel up and die by
discussing this?

“No, I really
think we need to talk about this,” she pleads with a worried look on her face.

I laugh
uncomfortably.  “Nope, no we don’t.  Let’s just pretend it never happened. 
I’ve already forgotten.”

She pushes on my
shoulders and holds me at arm’s length.

“Carter!” she
scolds.

“I’m sorry, were
you saying something?”

She huffs and
rolled her eyes, clearly irritated with me that I don’t want to have a nice,
friendly conversation about how she’d rather yak up a fur ball than become my
wife.

“Cut it out! 
This is serious.”

As a heart
attack.  Or a penis dying in a vagina from a broken heart.

“I’m pretty sure
we need to talk about the fact that you screamed 'MOMMY!' when you came,” she
hisses angrily.

“Whoa that’s
kinky, Carter!  Who knew you had it in ya?”

Claire yelps in
surprise and my head jerks around at the sound of Rachel’s voice in our
kitchen.

“MOM!” Claire
yells as she tightens her thighs around me in an effort to get us closer and
shield the fact that we are still intimately connected.

“Tsk, tsk.  Shouldn’t
Carter be the one shouting that?” Rachel asks with a laugh.  “Sorry to
interrupt kitchen sex.  Great idea by the way.  Did I ever tell you about the
time I had sex in the kitchen of a McDonald’s?”

Claire growls
and narrows her eyes at her mother.

“Another time
maybe!  Just stopped back to get my purse that I left here,” she says as she
takes a few steps over to the kitchen table and picks it up off of one of the
chairs.  “You kids have a nice night.  And may I just say you have a very nice
ass, Carter.  Claire, don’t forget to do your kegels.”

With that, she
turns and breezes out of the kitchen, and we hear the front door open and
close.

“What was that
you said earlier about neither one of our families being able to ruin
anything?” Claire asks sarcastically.

“Dude, she
thought you called out ‘Mommy’?  Oh sweet Jesus, that is the best thing I’ve
ever heard!  Seriously.  You just made my week.” Drew laughs as he pats my
back.

“It’s always a
pleasure when my humiliation amuses you.”

Drew continues
laughing and shaking his head as he works on the car panel in front of him.  We
have three minutes to do our job on the car in progress before the conveyor
belt starts moving the car down the line again for the next pair of workers.

“How in the hell
did you diffuse the situation? That’s what I want to know!” Jim walks up behind
me to grab a clipboard off of the table and makes some notes, waiting patiently
for my answer.

“Well, having
her mother walk in on us helped.  Claire was completely focused on her making
comments about my ass rather than on the fact that I may or may not have called
out something completely inappropriate during sex.  Is it wrong that I’d rather
she thought I
did
call her ‘Mommy’ instead of just admitting I really
said ‘marry me’?” I ask.

“I dated a girl
once who liked to call me ‘Daddy’ in the sack.  It was kind of hot until I
actually met her dad.  He looked like Danny Devito, but shorter and with less
hair.  He always smelled like farts and swiss cheese and liked to bark at hot
chicks when they’d walk by him in public,” Drew tells us.

“I take that
back.  It would have been less painful for her to think I proposed than to hear
that story,” I say disgustedly.

 “So what’s the
plan now?  So far a baseball game and post-coital hasn’t worked for ya.  Got
any other tricks up your sleeve?” Jim jokes.

“I was thinking
about doing it over dinner maybe.  Someplace really romantic.  Isn’t that what
you said I should do that night after we tried on tuxes?”

Jim looks at me
in confusion.  “I did?  I don’t recall.  Although I woke up at three in the
morning in your bathtub with no pants on that night, so it’s possible I had
some really good ideas.”

“Ooooooh!  You
should totally propose at our rehearsal dinner next weekend,” Jim says
excitedly as he slams the clipboard down on the table.

“Really?  I
don’t know.  It seems like kind of an intrusion on you and Liz.  That's your
special day.”

“Slow down
there, Miss Manners.  I’m not asking you to have a double-wedding with us. 
Just pop the question over dinner.  Please, God, give me something else to
think about right now other than aisle runners, boutonnières, and swatches,”
Jim complains.

“Are you wearing
a
Swatch Watch
for your wedding?” Drew asks, forming the letter “X” with
his arms in front of him and pronouncing the words with flair.

“Funny.  Just
wait until Jenny gets her hooks in you and you have to deal with her psycho
mother.  Every time Mary Gates walks in the room and shows me a ribbon sample I
want to say, ‘Did you see that?  The fuck I give.  It went that way.’  I’m
about one tablecloth color away from just telling everyone to bring a side dish
and a lawn chair to our backyard and have Drew get ordained on the internet to
do the ceremony,” Jim complains.  “Liz asked me the other day what I thought
about twice baked potatoes.  How the fuck should I know?  Was I supposed to be
thinking about twice baked potatoes all this time?  Is this where I went
wrong?  Are grown men
supposed
to have an opinion about twice baked
potatoes?”

Jim looks like
his head is about ready to explode.  He stands there with his arms outstretched
like he's pleading for understanding or some sort of man hug.  Since Drew and I
aren’t the man-hugging type, Jim finally drops his arms and continues with his
rant.

“And my parents,
being the good Christian people they are, think one bottle of wine on every
table is enough liquor.  My mother’s exact words were, ‘If we run out, we run
out.  People will just have to make do with water.’”

Drew’s mouth
drops open as the car we finished moves down the line and a new one follows in
its wake.

“Water?  At a
wedding?  I don’t understand,” he asks in confusion.  “Did you invite Jesus? 
That’s the only way that will be acceptable.”

“Please, for the
love of God, propose to Claire at the rehearsal dinner so my future
mother-in-law will squeal in someone else’s ear for one night.  I beg of you,”
Jim pleads.

I think about
Jim’s suggestion while I get to work on the next vehicle.  The restaurant where
the rehearsal dinner will be held
i
s
a really beautiful place. 
And our friends will all be there to witness the event, something I’m sure
Claire will love.  The more I go over the idea in my head, the more excited I
become.  The rest of the night at work flies by as Drew and Jim help me come up
with the perfect plan to ask Claire to be my wife.