Her fingers twisted her ring. I wasn’t even sure she realized. “You said none of it was coming off, the ring, the name, so....” She shrugged, her voice hesitant, soft, unsure.
Jesus Christ. How could she need reassurance? I lowered my forehead to her shoulder and laughed once, disbelieving.
“You really out here tryna fuck me up in this theater.”
She relaxed a little then, turned so that our eyes could fully meet.
“You like it?”
Like it?I kissed the center of her spine carefully, just above the fresh ink.
“Nah, baby,” I murmured. “I love it.”
She melted backward against me.
“I gotta be the luckiest nigga in the world. I’m giving my girl back shots, look down and see that fat ass ripple, look up and see my name. Hell, yeah, Mrs. Sidorov. Let’s go put that in motion now,” I suggested.
She rolled her eyes. “Calm down, Mr. Sidorov. Just lewd and lascivious for no reason.”
Then she reached for the oversized bag sitting beside us and pulled out a huge beach towel.
I frowned. “Why you got beach equipment in the movie theater?”
Theory glanced at me, honey-brown eyes glowing wickedly in the dim light. She stood and turned to face me, then placed the folded towel between my feet. Suddenly, I knew exactly wherethis night was going. She dropped to her knees on the cloth. I thought about stopping her. That idea kept circling through my head while she reached for my zipper and eased it down, looking up at me with those beautiful eyes, darkened to amber.
“Baby…” I meant to say something to let her know this wasn’t necessary.
I forgot what it was when she pulled me through the front of my boxer briefs. The first soft lick of her tongue against the head of my dick, gathering my pre-cum and sampling it like it was a delicacy had me exhaling a curse and dropping my head back against the seat. I forgot that damn movie except for the hope that I got to fold my wife up like Treach did ol’ girl on the side of that house. She kept it light like that for a moment, tentative licks that bathed my length and girth. Then, my wife opened the exquisite heat of her mouth to me, soft, plump lips forming a tight seal as she sucked down inch after inch of my dick. Theory introduced me to the gift of her tongue’s flexibility and the lovely accommodation of her throat as she began a slow, deep suction that had me clutching the seat tighter than I ever had on any rollercoaster.
Because she was so generous, she let her hand join the action, twisting and pumping me as I fought not to whimper. The soft, quiet pulls of her pretty mouth soon gave way to a louder, wetter slurping intermixed with gagging as she took me deeper and deeper, those gorgeous eyes watering as my wife worked to please me. She looked up at me as she hummed softly in satisfaction. And fuck… I wasn’t one to lose control. Not in the frozen hell of Siberia or in fights with my brother or even when I stood by as some of the worst men I knew were sacrificed on operating tables.
But this woman…
Theory had disrupted my control from the moment I saw her curled in a chair in a loud ass living room. And rightnow, gagging and crying and humming on my dick, my wife threatened to completely undo me. I pulled her off my dick—an act for which I deserved a damn prize—then stood, lifting her up with me.
“I'm starting to think that you get off on seeing me lose my mind over you,” I accused, my thumb brushing over her wet lower lip.
I spun her around and pressed her over the seats in front of us. She smirked over her shoulder at me.
“That’s a problem? Cuz I could say the same about you,” she teased as I ripped her panties away from her already dripping center and pressed inside her.
I groaned at the tight, welcoming heat of her. Three days without this was too long. I anchored us, one hand on a lush ass cheek, the other grasping her side, my thumb resting near her tattoo. And that view?
Yeah. It was everything I thought it would be.
(Friday,June 27)
The day of the wedding rehearsal, Everly was finally starting to fray around the edges, a little nervousness creeping into her spirit. She sent us on a run to Hannarose’s Hair Haven for her favorite hair products in case her stylist didn’t have them tomorrow. Spoiler: her stylist would definitely have them. But we went anyway because she seemed on the verge of hyperventilating.
“If you put that orange-ass wig in your head, I’m leaving you here,” Emory warned.
Hyacinth gasped dramatically from farther up the aisle. “First of all, it’s ginger. Second of all, haters never prosper.”
“They do when they have good taste,” Em called back.
I laughed softly as I wandered down the packed aisle, absently running my fingers over edge control, mousse, and oil sheen displays. The little beauty supply store sat near the edge of downtown Emancipation, squeezed between a drive thru daiquiri shop (gotta love Louisiana) and our cousin G's accounting office. Ceiling fans turned overhead, fighting a losing battle against Louisiana heat every time the door opened. They circulated the scent of the bergamot in Blue Magic hair grease, sweet incense, and those candles used when the devout ask saints to intercede.
Ahh.The scent of home.
