It takes a lot of explaining and even more wine to get Claire on board with my line of thinking.  She wants everyone to like her and considers herself a failure because my parents have only seen her at her worst.  When I tell her that after twenty-five years I have yet to impress my parents and therefore she shouldn’t let it get to her, she finally relents and decides against writing an apology note to them in chocolate on their front yard.

After my mother apologizes for showing up unexpectedly, and Drew throws a wild pitch into the fan that results in a dinner roll right to her neck, my parents realize the importance of calling ahead.  They do their best to not make faces as they tiptoe around clumps of bread that litter the dining room floor to find an available seat.  My father explains he thought he was coming down with a cold but after a short nap, he felt much better so they decided to stop by for dessert.  Claire does her best to stick to the original plan of plying them with a bunch of alcohol and sweets to suck up to them, but after thirty minutes of Rachel trying to get my mother to admit she would love to try a threesome some day and goading my father to confess he dropped acid in the sixties, my parents decide it's past their bedtime.

After they leave, everyone helps clean up before they head to their own homes.  When the last dish is put away and the final crumb is swept from the floor, we finally have the house all to ourselves and nothing can be heard except the ticking of the clock in the living room.

I walk into the kitchen after putting Gavin to bed to find Claire standing in front of the sink, staring out the window, lost in thought.  I don’t want her to feel guilty about my parents.  I won’t let them make her feel like anything less than the amazing woman I know her to be.

I come up behind her and slide my hands around her waist and clasp them together on top of her stomach.  I rest my chin on her shoulder, waiting for her to speak.

“So.  This was a fun day,” she says sarcastically, bringing her hands up to rest on top of mine.

I turn my face and place a kiss on the side of her neck, inhaling the subtle hint of chocolate that always lingers on her skin.

“Actually, it was a very fun day.  I had no idea you ever called America’s Most Wanted,” I tell her with a smile.  “And that Barbie likes horse cock.  Who knew?”

Her body shakes with laughter.

“Hey, don’t judge me.  Ken had underwear that wouldn’t come off.  What’s a girl to do in that situation?” she asks as she turns into my embrace, slides her arms around me, and rests her cheek against my chest.  “I was an only child with two crazy parents.  Unless I wanted to hang out in the basement with my mother and smoke pot, there wasn’t much else to do other than have Barbie orgies.”

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.”