“Mhm.” I busied myself with ordering a ride for Mahogany to ensure she got home safely. Once the car arrived, I walked her out and gave the driver strict orders to get her to her destination safely. After reminding her to text Whiskee and let her know when she’d made it home safely, I closed the door and went back inside of my new home.
I found Whiskee in the kitchen humming as she looked in the refrigerator. As much as I loved her food, I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to cook for me since she was tipsy. When she was, she had a heavier pour on the salt. Other than that, I loved my baby’s cooking.
“Are you sober enough to cook, Mrs. Smith?”
Whiskee giggled as I wrapped my arms around her from behind. “Yes, daddy.”
“Mm,” I moaned before licking and biting down on her neck. “I want you to feed me food and that pussy, but if you keep talking like that, I will want the pussy first.”
“You are so vulgar.”
“I’on care. I was like this before you married me.”
“That’s not a good excuse, sir, seeing as our marriage was arranged.”
I gasped and feigned offense as she turned to face me. “Wow. And here I was thinking you chose to marry me because you loved me.”
“I diiid,” she almost sang before laughing and wrapping her arms around my neck. “You know I love you, and I love choosing you every day of my life.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Smacking her ass, I squeezed it then rubbed the same place.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about, so I think we should eat first to make sure you know I’m sober.”
Oh shit.
This must be serious.
Whiskee
My husband was one of the most intense, protective, violent, and feared men in the South. Even though he’d retired from the mafia and the streets, his reputation was still valid, and he was still not one to be fucked with. However, I saw the moment fear flashed across his face at the thought of me wanting to talk to him. I wanted to assure him that everything was okay, but what I wanted to talk to him about was truly a big deal.
“You ain’t about to divorce me, are you?”
Laughing, I wrapped his arms around me because they’d dropped. “Absolutely not. It’s a good thing. I’m just not sure how open to it you will be.”
“Okay, I guess. You need help with dinner?”
“Nope. Let me serve you, baby. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed before giving me another quick kiss and heading to the living room. I poured him a shot of whiskey and took it to him, blushing when he said, “You know you’re my favorite whiskey to drink. Come put that pussy on my mouth.”
“Babe! I thought you wanted to eat real food first?” I asked, putting his drink on the side table.
“It won’t take me but a minute to make you cum. C’mere.”
I had no desire to deny him or deny myself for that matter. Beethoven was the first man that I’d ever encountered who truly loved eating me for his pleasure. When we first started having sex, it was so overwhelming I thought the man was going to kill me. Now that I’d gotten used to his love for eating me and sex, we had the time of our lives in the bedroom or wherever else.
He lowered himself a few inches in his seat on the merlot-colored sofa and licked his lips. Planting my feet on the sofa, I shivered when he lifted my house dress and pushed my panties to the side. The moment he spread my cheeks and licked between my folds, I sighed. There was nothing better than making love to and fucking my husband. It was truly the best way to celebrate, express anger, handle sadness, or deal with loss and gain. There wasn’t a time I didn’t want to have this man on me and in me. I literally wanted to be in his skin, and he was just as obsessed with me.
“Oh my God,” I slurred, clawing at the wall when he slurped my clit into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. He knew just where to lick and apply pressure tomake me gush and cum instantly. And just like he’d said, it happened in less than a minute. “Baby, wait,” I pleaded as I trembled against him.
“Mm mm.” Beethoven tightened his grip around me and held me in place, licking and sucking and sucking and licking until I came again.
My legs shook, and that was the only reason he released me. Before he could try and flip me to continue feasting on my pussy, I sat in his lap and unbuttoned his jeans.
“Whatchu doing? I wasn’t done.”
