And at this moment, I realize I’ve given up some control and handed it over to my wife. I let her not just fuck me any way she wants, whenever she wants, but I’ve also given up a piece of my heart. Which scares me and pisses me off at the same time, and I hate it, but I also can’t help it.
Benny’s just perfect and easily loved, and there was nothing I could do besides fall for her. She owns me. I grab the back of her neck, and she startles as I yank her to me, pressing her body against mine and fucking her from underneath, my balls slapping against her ass. Her pussy, so sleek and wet, makes noises as I fuck her.
My princess comes first and bites my shoulder, and I come after, but don’t bite her back. I squeeze her tightly against me, wanting to swallow her whole. As we lie there for the second time, I say, “I’m going to kill him, Benny.”
13
In the evening, I’m sitting in the kitchen, my wife is in my lap, and we’re watching the security feed like two cops on a stakeout, looking for the black Mercedes driving past the house again. The cousin has driven past the house three times in the past few hours, which tells me he’s restless and just waiting for the opportunity to come inside.
It’s gonna be while I’m gone.
Therefore, I shall be gone.
“There,” Benny points at the screen. “There he goes again. Oh my God.”
I pat her hip so she gets up before I stand.
Princess looks nervous. “He’s Daddy’s man. Remember that, Hudson.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
“Why can’t you hire this out?”
“Because you’re my wife.”
“That shouldn’t matter. A kill is always best hired out.”
“Baby, I appreciate how cold and ruthless you are, but I’m doing this.”
She giggles, but she’s far from comfortable.
I cup her face with one hand and sling on my cap with the other. “I’ll be okay. You know what to do.”
She nods.
“And that is?”
“Open the door and step out of the way.”
I grab my drag bag and don’t linger by the door when I hear Benny sniffing. The moon’s dim light barely shows me the way across my property and over the fence into the neighbor’s yard, where I crouch, making sure the Singhs are indoors. The couple’s watching television, and the kids must be asleep.
I creep along the fence, then sprint to their tree house and sling the drag bag over my back so I can climb the tree. Mainly because I’m a giant, I expend an effort to throw the bag inside the house first, then belly crawl into the small space, Legos poking my torso as I go.
Looking up, I gauge the distance to the tree house roof and find it bigger than I expected. I’ve watched the Singhs build it and remember thinking a tall kid will tire of bending at age five and won’t use the house, but now I’m thinking it’s just the right height for their younger son. One day, when their boys are older, maybe they’ll sell me this house for my boys.
Sitting up, I assemble the rifle and assume my position. I keep one eye on my phone screen, which is showing me the feed from the gate and from my front door.
I lie in wait. Millions of thoughts are running through my head while the sounds of crickets disrupt the still of the night. Maybe I’ll have girls instead of boys. It’s possible. I’m used to getting what I want, so that’s why I expect boys.
Do girls like tree houses? I have no idea. I didn’t have a sister, and most of my cousins are men. Jeanine and Michelle lived in the city, so nothing could be learned from them.
Are tree houses gender specific? What are the statistics on tree houses for boys versus girls? What if I have a boy who hatestree houses? Maybe I’ll have twins. Oh shit. That sounds like a reward and a nightmare at the same time.
Benny turns on the kitchen light. She’s changed into one of the new nightgowns she bought from the store. It’s black silk and matches the pajama bottoms Blake gifted me. My brother really does understand fashion. I don’t give him enough credit in that area. I ought to compliment his clothing choices more often. I dress well, but he takes it to the next level. Next time I see him, I’ll compliment his suit.
Benny’s fingers travel between her breasts, over her throat, and reach her lips, which she touches lightly, then taps them twice. Is this a signal of some sort? My dick hardens, and I groan, shifting uncommonly in my position sprawled over the floor. She swipes a hand over her shoulder, and the strap falls, revealing the top swell of her breast. What the fuck is she doing?
Sweating, I wipe my brow and glance at the gate. A black Mercedes parks across the street. Brando exits and jogs to the gate, gaze on his phone screen even as he punches in the codes.
