Chapter 5 Bertie
BERTIE
“I’m running late, BertieBear,” Hideo says on the phone. I’m so glad he called instead of texting—it’s wonderful to hear his sexy voice. I’ve been tingling with anticipation all day. “I haven’t forgotten our date. Should I pick up something for dinner?”
“Me too, hon. I’m still at the shop and I’m up to my elbows in paperwork. We have a few of the caprese sandwiches left over. Is that okay?”
“Sounds great. I’ll stop and get some wine.”
“I’m in the mood for beer,” I suggest. “A nice IPA will fit better with the filthy things I have planned for you.”
He laughs and answers, “Even better. It’s been a beer kind of day. See you and that sexy cock soon-ish.”
I work through the last of the stack of bills (they never seem to stop) and pack up the sandwiches.
I add a lemon tart at the last minute—just one to share.
My sexy husband is on a perpetual diet, since the city’s foremost plastic surgeon needs to keep up certain appearances, but I can probably tempt him with one bite before we move on to the serious temptation.
He beats me home and meets me at the door.
He’s wearing one of his silk kimonos tied loosely at the waist, inviting my tongue with an exposed triangle of smooth golden pecs and teasing me with those long, muscular legs, just waiting to be spread.
Dinner just might have to wait. He immediately takes the bag and sets it on the entry table, pulls me into his arms, and I wait for it, loving every second of expectation.
He bends down (he has some height on me) and buries his face in my neck, taking a deep breath.
“You smell so good,” he says, and I melt. He’s been saying this for twenty years, and it still feels like the first time.
I lean back and undo the top button of my shirt, saying, “These cinnamon rolls are ready to come out of the oven. Shall we start with dessert?”
He smiles but says, “Let’s have some dinner first, my sweet confection. Do you mind? I need to unwind a bit.”
“Me too, now that you mention it,” I answer. “It’s been a long day and I’d like to get off these feet.” Truly, a beer will help me relax enough to savor the promises ahead…but I do sneak my hands into his kimono, stealing a preview of coming attractions.
I give him a quick kiss before I grab his hand and head for the kitchen. He has everything set up: glasses for the beer, plates for the sandwiches, candles on the table, and Johnny Matthis telling us that our chances are awfully good.
“So romantic!” I say. “You always take me to the best places.”
He gives me a lusty look and says, “Well, I have some ideas about other places for you to explore later, so be warned.”
“Ooh! You are a tease. I like.”
He pours me a life-restoring beer and we clunk our glasses together. “To the official start of date night!”
We’re both quite familiar with these leftover-sandwich dinners, so he scrounged up an apple and some chips to go with it.
It’s all perfectly cozy, a comfortable ritual that binds us one small step more tightly together.
I gaze at my husband across the table, pouring the beer in the candlelight, and I marvel, yet again, at how lucky I am.
“The neighborhood is looking festive,” I say. Our street is a sea of lights this time of year, but sadly we haven’t had time to put up ours yet. The holidays come and go so quickly these days.
“This weekend,” Hideo says. “I promise. We’ll carve out some time to put up some lights.”
“Sorry,” I say, hoping I haven’t broken the mood. “I didn’t mean to nag. We’re both busy and it is what it is. But it would be fun, if we can find the time. What are your parents doing for the holidays?”
“Last I heard, they’re going to be in Sydney. They’re doing a cruise of the Great Barrier Reef.”
I sigh and say, “How long do we have before retirement?”
“Afraid it’s still miles away in the murky future, BertieBear. But you love your job, and so do I. We’ll survive until then.”
“That is a blessing,” I say, and it’s entirely true.
The bakery, despite the bills, is a delight.
This is another way I’ve been lucky, finding a profession that brings people so much joy and allows me to meet interesting people, like my quiet ginger giant.
“How about you? Sounds like you had a tricky day.”
“It was, um, interesting. I have a new patient with a unique challenge.”
He wears an odd little frown when he says this, and I lose him, just for a moment, to his thoughts. “I won’t pry. I know you like to respect your clients’ privacy. But good luck with them.”
“Thanks. I might need it. But back to holidays, have you heard from the guys?”
“Yes, we’re on for a potluck on Christmas Eve. So, we need to think about what we want to make.”
We’re both feeling far more relaxed after two beers and a lemon tart. He broke down and had two bites, so I count that as a victory.
“Just toss them in the sink,” he says as I gather up the dishes. He sneaks behind me and wraps his arms around my belly, already undoing a few buttons of my shirt. “They’re not going anywhere…but we are.”
He grabs my hand and drags me to the bedroom, an irresistible force, but why would I want to resist?
He pushes me down on the bed and clambers on top, overwhelming me with his muscled body and hungry lips. He nuzzles down into my neck again, and says, “Why do you always smell so good?”
“Hello?” I say, laughing. “I spend all day in a bakery.”
“It’s more than that,” he says, moving down and running his nose through my chest hair. “It’s sweat and man…”
He sniffs his way down, pulling down my pants and burying his face deep in my pubes.
“I smell feral bear and sex,” he growls, taking a deep whiff, and then taking me into his mouth. My day is certainly looking up.
“Flip around, Doctor,” I suggest. “I’d like a piece of that action.”
In seconds, I’m pinned to the bed under him, enclosed in the tent of his silk kimono. His rapidly mounting cock fills my mouth while he works on mine. He’s the perfect size, grazing my tongue with every thrust, making me his.
When he’s good and hard, he jumps up and gives me the biggest, sloppiest kiss imaginable, gathering my beard in his fist and tugging my mouth open. After all these years, this man knows all my buttons, and he saves my biggest one for last.
“I want you inside me, BurlyBear. I want that monster cock filling me up.”
I know a few of his buttons too. He’s a big ole bottom, but he still likes some control, so I suggest, “Why don’t you just take a seat, Doctor? I’m enjoying the view from down here.”
His eyes flare with lust and somehow, the lube appears out of nowhere. When did that happen? That’s my sexy doctor: always prepared. I let my feral bear take over and then it’s all slick hands and bodies and cocks, doing what they’re meant to do.
When rational thought returns, we’re in a steamy shower and my well-satisfied doctor is soaping up my beard.
He knows I love this, the feel of his gentle hands on my central personal affectation, and he always throws himself into the task.
As he concentrates, stroking and weaving his fingers through the curly hair, I let my hands wander over his smooth chest, his broad shoulders, those strong arms. I wonder again why this paragon chose me, a silly little baker bear.
My breath catches and I feel the happy tears—how can I not?
This is the sentimental season, after all.
“Everything okay, BertieBear?” he says, catching my face in his hands.
“I love you so much, Hidie-ho,” I say, not hiding the tears.
“Oh, cutie. I love you too. Come here.” He crushes me in his hunky arms under the streaming water, and I let myself believe it, yet again. After I’m well and truly hugged, he pulls back and jokes, “Pencil me in for another date night?”
I laugh and say, “I’ll have my people call your people.”
When we eventually crawl under the sheets, clean and exhausted, I take a holiday moment to count my blessings instead of sheep. A business I love, a beautiful home, and the sexiest hunk in bed next to me every night.