Loving Her (Mitchell Family #9)(41)
Author: Jennifer Foor

I was still on the toilet, suffering. “Just so you know, I wasn’t backed up in the first place.” Every time I’d laugh I’d pass gas, which made it even more comical.

He leaned against the tub and watched me. “I guess this means you aren’t getting back in?”

I shrugged. “Maybe after I’m done shitting myself, I’ll need to. Although I’ve suddenly lost the urge to have sex. I can’t believe this is happenin’ to me. If you tell anyone, I swear I will cut it off when you sleep.”

He laughed some more. “Come on. This is the funniest thing that’s happened in a long time. I think it would be a great conversation at Thanksgiving, with the whole family around the dinner table.”

There I was, sitting on the toilet, having a bout of the runs, all the while dripping and naked. The story could go on and on, and I knew he was going to tell everyone about it. “You totally suck.”

He stuck out his lip. “I’m sorry, baby. You gotta admit it though. This is f**king hilarious.”

“My ass is on fire. I’m so glad I could be over here entertainin’ you.”

My poor husband looked so sad. He sank down under the water, giving up on doing anything more, at least for a while.

Once he was done sulking, and knowingly realized that I couldn’t possibly perform without the sudden urge to poop, he grabbed two towels and brought one over for me. I covered up in it, feeling warm after having goose bumps all over me.

When I got finished using the toilet, all I wanted to do was get back in the tub and soak my sore ass**le. It seemed ridiculous, but things like this happened to me all the time. Every time we were alone, some crazy tragedy would occur. Usually it was something kid related. This time, it was all on us.

My ass was literally burning. It was like one of those cartoons, where the creature sets its ass on fire and went running to a bucket of water for relief. I walked right over to the tub and sat down, feeling an instant soothing that took away the burn.

Ty put the toilet seat down and sat on it. “I guess a second attempt is out of the question?”

I motioned towards his dick. “That is not gettin’ anywhere near my ass again. I love you. I’ll do just about anything with you, and we have, but this is off limits. It ends badly every single time. Can you just pretend that my vagina is an ass and call it a day?”

“I already do that.”

“What?” It was news to me. “Are you bein’ serious right now?”

He chuckled. “No. Of course not. I was just wanting to try it again. Baby, you are amazing. I don’t care about f**king you in the ass. I’m sure it would feel nice, because it’s you, but since I just made you have to shit, it’s kind of lost its glamour.”

We both laughed again, thinking about how an awesome night had turned into a comedy show. “It never fails, does it? We always seem to end up in these kind of predicaments.”

Ty walked over to the edge of the tub and kissed me on the forehead. “I happen to like our life and getting into these predicaments with you. Trust me when I say this, but you’re the only person that I want to hang out with when they’re shitting.”

I grabbed both sides of his face. “You are the worst sweet talker on the planet, but I love you to death anyway.”

We kissed softly on the lips. “You totally looked hot sitting all naked over there, bearing down.”

He couldn’t be serious for a minute. Knowing that I was going to be the hot topic with the family, I grabbed him by his arms and pulled him back into the tub with me. The water splashed out on the floor again as he tried to sit up and not get a mouth full of it. Ty pulled me back onto his lap and moved the hair away from my face. “Where were we?”

He smiled as I teased his lips with my tongue. He kissed me hard, sucking my lip as he pulled away. The tingling between my legs was already coming back, and our intermission was seemingly getting easier to forget about. All I wanted was to get back to what we were doing. I wanted to savor every moment alone that I had with my husband, knowing that chaos awaited us the moment we went home.

This was our time, to soak up each other enough to hold us over, until the cloud of despair above our home subsided. I wanted to be consumed by my husband, like I didn’t have a care in the world. All that mattered in this very moment was us.

Chapter 27

Tyler

I would have been a complete jerk if I held my wife captive in a hotel room for the whole weekend. Besides, we had to eat, and since it wasn’t summer, the hotels only kept minimum staff, meaning there was no room service.

It wasn’t like we wanted to go out and paint the town. Our years of bar hopping were long over. When we wanted to drink, we hung out in the old barn with family and close friends, playing cards or just shooting the shit. None of us were interested in bar drama and putting ourselves in situations that could cause trouble for our marriages. We were settled and content, the way people our age that were married with children should be.

All we wanted to do was go grab a nice bite to eat; some kind of fried seafood platter that reminded us that we were in fact at the beach, enjoying some R&R.

Nothing was open.

The beach was like a ghost town, and because it was so late at night, the only options we had was a local twenty-four hour franchise. Since we were both famished, it had to be the place, unless we wanted some gas station snacks to hold us over until morning. I knew Miranda would cringe at the idea of eating an overcooked hotdog, since she hated them with a passion, calling them smashed bologna every chance she got.

Conner, who ate everything, is the one who convinced her of it. He’d watched some damn show on television that researched how a hotdog was made. Obviously, it’s one of those foods where they throw in a bunch of the leftovers and press it into a shape. My motto was always ‘if it tasted good, you eat it’, but Conner wasn’t like me. He was thoroughly grossed out, going so far as to make sure his kids didn’t have it any more.

Then he told his sister. After a late night game of beer and cards, she’d made the decision that they were awful. She even did research and found that some brands were known to cause headaches. I often wondered how many of her clients were burdened with the story of how gross they were.

At any rate, gas station hot dogs were definitely off limits.

When we went inside the restaurant, there were only a few tables that had patrons. We sat ourselves in a corner booth, and I rearranged the tableware so that I could pretend we were at a fancy restaurant. Miranda giggled as I folded up my napkin and stuck it in the sugar just right to look like a candle. “Don’t laugh. I’ll light that shit and make it realistic.”