Benny smiles and reaches for my hand under the table. I interlace our fingers and lean in toward him. “Not anymore. She’s my princess now. You got that, boy?”
“Hudson,” Benny says. “Let’s go.”
The boy glares and stands. Benny wants to give him a parting hug, but if he touches her again, I’m gonna pound his brains into the tile with the heel of my boot.
I’m marching across the mall, people getting out of my way, and feeling grateful that my wife suggested I not bring my gun. I might have pulled it on that kid.Jesus.
At the exit, I turn and see that my wife’s a long way away, carrying her heels in her hand and walking barefoot so she can catch up to me. As she approaches, I open my mouth to apologize when she barks, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
She snorts. “There’s something. Why are you being an asshole to Brando?”
“I don’t like him.”
“He’s my cousin.”
“So?”
“So he’s family.”
“I’m not obligated to be polite just because someone is my family.” Especially not when he and I both know he overstepped while I was away on the business trip. He threatened my staff.
“Can’t you be nice for me?”
“No.”
Her eyes widen. “Sure you can. You just don’t want to.”
“There’s something wrong with the way that kid’s looking at and touching you. It’s not right.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “What are you talking about?” Something flickers in her eyes.
Mine narrow. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“Not really.”
“I think you do. It’s palpable and yet not explainable. You feel it, but you can’t explain it, and it sounds completely crazy and irrational. The difference between me and you is that I’ve learned to trust that instinct and you haven’t, so instead of leaning into how you feel and keeping your distance when he makes you uncomfortable, you’ve chosen to ignore it, and worse yet, you chose to think you’re crazy and making crazy shit up.”
Benny throws her heels into a bag. “The only crazy one here is you.” She stomps past me, and I look around at the people who have actively stopped to listen. They’re all giving me dirty looks because when a guy is arguing with a girl, it’s almost always his fault. It’s a universal law.
A man walks up to me and pats my shoulder. “I was like that with my oldest when she turned eighteen. You’ll get used to it.”
“Thanks, man,” I say.
“Sure, no problem.”
I throw the bags in the trunk and sit inside the car, where my wife gives me the silent treatment all the way home. And three hours later once we are home. Guess who slept apart yet another night?
10
Even on my days off, I shower and walk into my closet on autopilot without even considering I could stay in my boxers all day. As I grab a fresh pair of jeans from my closet, black silk pajamas catch my eye. Bishop got me those one Christmas as a joke after he figured out I sleep naked.
I remember he said ladies love a man in pajama bottoms. I grab the pants and sling them on, adjust my dick, and turn. In the mirror, the pants clearly show the outline of my half-hard cock. I think my wife will like that. She may hate what comes out of my mouth, but she sure likes what my mouth can do for her pussy, and I bet she thought about my cock and how it’s gonna feel inside her.
I was her age once.
Insatiable.
