I can’t stop the little bit of laughter that escapes me at her enthusiasm. There’s a child-like joy in her excitement and it almost feels like it’s a new experience for her. A dull ache runs through my heart at the thought she may have never had this. Nevertheless, I’m glad I was able to give it to her. This beautiful woman deserves the fucking world.
“You’re welcome, Little Pixie.” I pat her back lightly, hoping she’ll move soon. If not, we may soon have a problem on our hands with the way her ass is grinding against my–now growing–cock. “Class starts soon. We should get ready. I have a meeting right after and I don’t want to be late.”
“Oh!” She smirks. “Seems like someone’s already ready.”
My hands plant on her hips and I lift her off me. “Don’t be a brat. I’ll have no problem gagging you for the entire class as punishment.”
“I’m not afraid of you…Sir.” She draws out the word Sir, long and slow. Her southern lilt is generally subtle, but in times like this it’s more prominent and I kind of like bringing it out of her, even if she is mocking me. “Do. Your. Worst.”
She thinks I’m bluffing, but she’ll learn soon enough that I never do.
Standing, I shrug before leaning down and whispering in her ear, “We’ll see how confident you are after class. Time to go.”
She rolls her eyes and I silently put it in my mental filing cabinet for later.
“Wait. What kind of meeting do you haveafterthe class? Isn’t that kind of late for a business meeting?”
Now it’s my turn to eye roll. “It’s not just a business meeting. Mywifeis finally stopping in to sign the divorce papers.”
“Hayes, that’s great! You’ll finally be free and can move on.” She pauses with her finger in her lip. “How are you feeling about it, though? Are you okay?”
“I’ll be better when it’s over.”
Opening the door, we step into the booming noise of the bar. I love Gravity, but the bar is not my baby. It’s Ryker’s. I prefer spaces that have less music pounding in my ears and more implements or even moans floating through the air.
“Boss. Boss,” our lead security guard–Damien–yells, out of breath, as he flies up the stairs in our direction. “I tried to stop her.”
“Stop who?” Demi and I ask in unison.
“I would assume he’s talking aboutme,” a female voice sings from behind us.
We both turn around and my heart skips when I see her.
Raegan.
Her red locks are pulled back in a tight bun and she’s dressed in all black. A pencil skirt and silk blouse, shiny, black patent leather pumps. And glasses.Those are new.She looks like a supermodel and a librarian had a love child and I’m pretty sure my dick is all-the-way hard now.
“Shit,” Demi squeaks next to me. When I turn my gaze to her, I follow her line of sight to find it locked–intensely–on my wife.
What the fuck is happening? Do they know each other?
Before I can ask, Raegan answers the question by taking four steps closer, until she’s no more than a foot from her, and like she’s said it a thousand times, confidently states, “Demetria–”
12
Demi
About A Year Ago…
“What is it Demi?” Mom asks from the couch, her voice shaky and uncertain. “You’re scaring me.”
My ass is planted firmly in the old wingback chair across from her and my father. My ankles are crossed, like the lady I was raised to be, but my hands won’t stop shaking. I’ve placed them palm down on my thighs but if they shake anymore, it’ll be obvious how nervous I am, and if my mother notices, I’m done for.
“Nancy,” my father responds coolly. She’s the one that’s always overreacting and he’s always reigning her back in. “Let’s not freak out just yet. Let her say what she came here to say.”
Here’s the thing. I’ve been trying to tell my parents the biggest news of my life… for years. The problem is… everything in this house–and neighborhood–revolves around religion and the church. I’m pretty sure I already know what they’ll say when I tell them.
‘God doesn’t approve.’
