Page 34 of Loving at 40

[Archer]

The daddy comment didn’t freak me out as much as it should have. I wasn’t even surprised when Jenna eventually asked me if I ever wanted kids.

“I guess I figured someday I’d have them, but it hadn’t happened.” We’re sitting on the same couch even though there are two in the room. She’s tucked into the corner, and I took the middle cushion to be closer to her. She made popcorn but isn’t eating half as much as I am. I can’t remember the last time I had microwave popcorn or watched a movie with a woman.

“You aren’t too old. Mick Jagger from The Rolling Stones has to be like a hundred and he keeps getting women pregnant all the time.”

I snort. “Yeah, well, I’d like to be young enough to still enjoy my kids.” I’m only forty-five, but some days I feel over a hundred myself. Especially when my leg seizes up as it did, simply lifting myself off the floor between the girls’ beds.

“Never been married?” Jenna asks next, and I roll my head on the back of the couch, catching her eyes.

“Are you fishing for information?”

Her brows lift, and her forehead gets a cute wrinkle across it. “Hoping this is a soft topic.”

I chuckle. “No to marriages.” I tip a brow and add, “No to current girlfriends, as I’m assuming that’s the next subject.”

“Long-term girlfriend?”

Ah, that gets a little more complicated to explain, and leaning toward the hard topics. And I’m not interested in sharing that story with Jenna.

“How about you? How long were you married?”

Jenna purses her lips at my avoidance. “A little over three years when Ryan died.” I already know he died when Rosie was a baby.

“So you got pregnant right away.” I wiggle a brow

“We found out I was pregnant after we were engaged. Immaculate conception and all.” She smiles at the biblical reference to the Virgin Mary.

I laugh. If there’s anything I’ve learned about Jenna Davis, she’s a sexual being, and there is no way she didn’t have sex before her husband. Still, I’m curious. “Was he your first?”

“Hard topic for you but not me?” She arches a brow and then gives a heavy snort, answering my question. I don’t need to know the rest of her history. We’re both old enough to have experiences we regret. Viviana immediately comes to mind. Next comes the memory of Jenna in the tub. She was an experience and not one I’ll ever regret. Even losing her mind, she smelled good, looked sweet, and was incredibly sexy. It wasn’t an act; it came naturally to her. I’d been the actor with Vi.

“Right, the ballbuster,” I tease, recalling the story I’d heard the other day on the beach.

“I prefer heartbreaker,” she proudly states, but then her face falls. “Although, I really wasn’t that either. More like a love ’em and leave ’em gal, and most guys were on the same page as me.” The sour expression on her face proves she isn’t as cavalier about her past relations as she wants me to believe. As for those guys agreeing with one and done, they were idiots. Jenna isn’t someone you leave. You love her. You love her hard and soft and every topic in between.

When the first movie ends, we decide to watch a second one. Jenna slips lower and lower on her cushion until her head lays awkwardly on the armrest and her backside presses into my thigh. Tugging at her ankles, I stretch her legs over mine and rub my hand up her spine. I wait only a few minutes before I toss the cushions off the back of the couch and tuck myself behind her. Jenna’s back rests at my front, and I stare at the movie playing on the screen.

“Okay with this, babe?” I ask after I’m in position, holding my breath, hoping she won’t kick me off the couch.

“Yeah, this is good.”

Two little girls sleeping in the other room. A woman stretched out before me. A silly romantic movie playing. Some would agree it feels pretty good. I’d say it’s fucking fantastic, but I don’t allow myself to think such thoughts. I’ll slip into a role I can’t ever have. I can’t even pretend for a second that it’s what I want, or I’ll be lost in something that isn’t an act.

We fall asleep on the couch again. While Jenna was originally at my front, we’ve shifted during the night. I wake to cool fingers tickling the skin of my waist just above my jeans. The top button of my pants is undone, my morning wood straining to the side, and her knee rests between my legs.

The heat of Jenna’s center presses on my upper thigh, right through the denim, as her knee subtly moves up and down, knocking against the underside of my balls.

“Whatcha doing, ’Locks?” I tease. Jenna stops, and I slip my hand into my pants, adjusting the position of my dick to line up with my zipper. “I didn’t say you had to stop, babe.”

Her head is tucked into my shoulder, and my hand slides down her back, scooting under her opposite hip and hiking her over me. As I roll to my back, she gracefully straddles my body and lands with her hot center over my thick bulge. We both groan at the connection. Her fingers dig into the tee covering my chest as her hips roll forward, dragging her over my stiff shaft. Her hair topples forward, hiding her face a bit as she rocks against me. She is wearing some shorty robe over her equally skimpy pajama shorts and tank top, and the material slips down her arm, exposing her shoulder. Jenna reaches for it, attempting to put it back in place, but I swat the cotton off the top of her arm.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Jenna.”

Her eyes close as she undulates over me, hair wild, clothes disheveled, chewing her lip. She’s rocking faster, rubbing harder. She’s going to get us both off by dry humping me. My hands come to her hips, resting there as I follow her lead. Thrusting upward into her motions, I try to give her everything, try to get her there, despite the barrier of clothing.

“Mommy, I’m wet.”