Sunday Dinner: An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle

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Sunday Dinner

An R.L. Mathewson Chronicle

            “Your wife’s here.”

            “Tell her I’m on a run,” Eric said, throwing an arm over his eyes, hoping that the lie would buy him a few hours.

            “On a run, huh?” Joe suddenly said, sounding amused as he noted the sounds of the bunkroom door closing with a soft whoosh and a click.

            He sighed heavily, lifting his arm and cracking open one eye in time to see his beautiful wife climb onto the small bunk and straddle his lap, something that he normally fantasized about during his long shifts, but not today. Today, he just wanted to close his eyes and pretend that it wasn’t Sunday, the most fucked up day of the week.

            “What are you doing here?” he asked, reaching over and placing his hand on the swell of her stomach where their baby was hopefully taking it easy on his mother.

            “I came by for a ride,” she said with a coy little smile that had him chuckling.

            “A ride, huh?” he asked, chuckling as he sat up to wrap his arms around his wife.

            “Mmmhmmm,” she said with the mischievous glint in her eyes that he loved.

            “Well,” he murmured, leaning in to steal a kiss, “I’m afraid that you’re going to have to get that ride from Nathan, because I’m still on duty.”

            Her grin became devious as she slowly shook her head, looking oddly triumphant. “No,” she said, leaning in to kiss him, “you’re not.”

            “Fuck,” he groaned, closing his eyes in defeat, because he knew there was no point in arguing with his wife or bitching about the fact that she’d clearly went over his head, not unless he wanted to take the chance of making his hormonal wife cry.

            “You can take a shower at mom’s house,” she said, quickly disengaging herself from his limp arms and climbing off his bunk as he desperately tried to come up with something that would save him from spending another Sunday at his mother’s house and the annoying women that his mother kept shoving towards Nathan.

            When she’d first shifted her attention from him to Nathan and began shoving all of the annoying and desperate women at his brother instead of him, he’d been content to sit back and laugh his ass off. Now he wasn’t sure how many more Sunday dinners he was going to be able to deal with before he lost his goddamn mind. His mother was clearly becoming desperate, very desperate, to get her oldest son married and it was showing.

            “Or we could just go home and share a shower,” he suggested, sounding hopeful, not just because he really didn’t want to go to his mother’s house, but because he wouldn’t mind spending a day alone with his wife in bed.

            She laughed as she picked up his overnight bag and tossed it on the bed. “We have to pick the kids up.”

            He shook his head, reaching for her with the hopes of using the small bunk to convince her that spending the day with him in bed was a better decision. “Mom wouldn’t mind watching the kids for another day.”

            “True,” Joe conceded with a nod as she allowed him to pull her back on his lap. “But, then we’ll be leaving poor Nathan to suffer alone.”

            He chuckled as he wrapped his arms back around her. “He’d probably appreciate not having an audience for once.”

            “Probably,” Joe agreed on a murmur, absently shifting on his lap and making him like the idea of spending the day in bed with her more and more.

            “But?” he asked, ducking his head so that he could nibble on her throat.

            She tilted her head to the side to make it easier for him to kiss and nibble on her neck as he snaked a hand beneath her shirt. “But, if we don’t go-”

            “I’ll be able to do all the naughty things that I’ve been fantasizing about all night,” he finished for her, moaning against her neck as his hand slid beneath her bra and filled his hand with her breast.

            “And what exactly did you fantasize about?” she asked, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she shifted on his lap, teasing his rapidly growing erection.

            “Everything,” he admitted, suckling gently on her neck.

            “Everything, hmm?” she asked, threading her fingers through his hair and encouraging him to continue.

            “Mmmmhmmm.”

            “And how exactly does ‘everything’ start?” she asked, rolling her hips as far as her baby bump would allow, which was thankfully far enough to give him some relief.

            “Sorry, sweetheart, I can’t tell you that,” he said, pressing one last kiss against her neck before he turned his head and captured her lips with his own.

            “What can you do?” she asked, nibbling his bottom lip.

            “I can show you,” he offered, running his thumb over her nipple.

            “But, if you do that, then we’ll miss dinner at mom’s house,” she pointed out, sealing the deal for him since he’d much rather spend the rest of the day making his wife scream his name than to watch his mother try to play matchmaker.

            “And wouldn’t that be a shame?” he said against her lips, placing his free hand on her bottom, encouraging her to move against him.

            “It really would,” she agreed, moving against him harder, but something in her tone caught his attention.

            “And why would that be?” he asked even as started to shift so that he could lay his wife down on the small bunk and get an early start on their day in bed.

            “Because, your mother invited your new partner to dinner today.”

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