Must Love Logs (Must Love Series Book 4)

by Xavier Neal

  “There was that,” my grumble receives another laugh from him.

  And it was the last time I ever bet on the Highland Highflyers.

  “You’re more than welcome to play against those two,” I motion my head at Big Foot and his wife, “but we’re gonna go grab something to drink from the bar, and if I’m lucky play a bit of grab ass while the boys shovel down copious amounts of cake.”

  Sienna snickers, waves, and allows me to lead us to the opposite end of the room where the bar is. She leans into my embrace and warmth spreads in my chest.

  I always feel this way.

  And the more packed the room, the more pride that pumps through my veins.

  She’s fucking gorgeous.

  She’s never had a problem stealing or keeping men’s attentions, yet someway, somehow, it’s mine that managed to matter.

  That still manages to matter…

  If that’s not something worth being proud about in your marriage, what is?

  Sienna leans her arms onto the bar, the short, pink, lacey bridesmaid dress inching slightly up, testing my sanity.

  My patience.

  Woman looks amazing in jeans, an old sweatshirt, and freshly washed hair. But when she gets all dolled up? When she takes what feels like a fucking decade to get ready? The sight is something that could’ve only been created by the heavens. Part of the problem I tend to face when she puts in this much work is wanting to just mess it all up by fucking her properly.

  She pulls her long brown hair to the side of her face and tosses me an inquisitive look over her shoulder. “Whiskey and coke?”

  The position she’s taking plants a provocative image in my mind that has my cock swelling in the confines of my dark jeans.

  Like the sexy devil she is, she slowly wets her lips in a teasing nature. “Something else?”

  I glance to the left to survey the current situation.

  On the dance floor is Mama wiggling around with London, Oliver, Kenny, and Runt’s new mother-in-law. Kyle and two of his cousins are shoving forkfuls of cake in their mouths while laughing with Blake and his fiancée, Abby. Runt and Ollie, his wife, seem to be engaged in an intimate conversation at their table by the way his hand is resting on her swollen stomach.

  Seeing everyone happily occupied allows me to guiltlessly give in to the temptation of stealing a private moment with my wife. My eyes lock onto hers at the same time I state, “I want a slice of pie.”

  Her body noticeably tightens. “Flavor?”

  “Cherry.” My body begins backing up the direction of the bathrooms. “Cherry each and every day until I die.”

  She whimpers at the declaration as she eagerly follows me.

  While most men would have to twist their wife’s arm into doing what we’re about to, I’ve never been that unfortunate. Hell, Sienna has slipped me into more bathrooms to squeeze in a so-called quickie than most people would ever venture to guess. I don’t know if it’s the possibility of us being heard, or perhaps the thrill in getting completely caught, but I don’t give a fuck either way. I’ll take my woman any way and every way I can get her.

  Our bodies stumble into the handicap stall of the women’s restroom and immediately gravitate towards each other. She manages to lock the door shut mere seconds prior to being yanked against me. Her mouth parts wide on the sexual gasp, and my tongue doesn’t think twice about taking full advantage. It forcefully presses against hers. Eagerly explores the lingering hints of beer and peppermint that I imagine she grabbed earlier in the night to hide the BBQ sauce aroma that was on her breath. Sienna leaks hungry moans that only encourage me to continue to devour her further. I lap up the savory sounds, and she expeditiously undoes my Shaw family belt buckle. The feeling of her delicate hands grazing my crotch during their pursuit of springing my cock free causes me to growl into her mouth. Swipe at her top lip. Nip at her bottom one. I clumsily guide us backwards towards the toilet but ensure our kiss remains intact. We work in an overzealous tandem that’s filled with grunts and sighs to get one another just naked enough to execute our sexual mission.

  Sienna holds her gathered dress by her stomach, wraps the arm that contains her cherry pie tattoo around my neck, and slowly lowers herself onto my swollen shaft. Her first sigh of satisfaction is enough to make me want to come undone, however, I won’t.

  In our entire relationship, I can honestly say I’ve never blown my load in less than five minutes.

  Damn sure ain’t about to start now.

  Another sexual sough seeps into the air, prompting me to ask, “Miss me, Cherry Pie?”

  “God yes,” she heavily moans, body lifting itself to the tips of her cowgirl boots in order to slide back down my dick once more.

  Two weeks is too long to go without fucking the woman I love. Fuck, two days is too long, but kids don’t exactly make it easy to live like we did when we first got hitched.

  Her pussy repeatedly tightens, desperately dragging my dick to the hilt, ripping low, dark bellows from the pit of my stomach. She runs her fingers up the back of my hair in search of strands for extra leverage. The gentle up and down motion she was initially making is ceased by a swift slap on the ass.

  “Ride that shit, Cherry Pie.” My callous command is accompanied by another one. “Show me how you love to take my dick.”

  Sienna purrs her surrender, “Yes, baby…”

  A small amount of pressure appears in the back of my legs due to the tips of her cowgirl boots digging into them as she begins to brazenly bounce. I lean slightly back to enjoy the sight. Starting at the top, I drink in the way her head is craned to the ceiling, elongating her neck, exposing the quivers of each scream. My eyes descend to her tits that deliciously jiggle even in the confines of her clothing. The hand that’s holding her dress hostage is turning white from her unwavering grip, but it’s the view of her clit brushing the base of my cock that threatens to throw me over the edge. Wetness weeps from her lower lips. Slathers itself down the sides of my thighs. Slickens my balls. Sloppy sounds of our bodies repeatedly slapping together reverberate around the restroom, and a wicked smirk latches itself onto my face. I use the thumb on one hand to add a rough rubbing to her clit, and the middle finger on the other to penetrate the tight ring between her cheeks. Sienna squeaks at the intrusion yet thrusts her ass into it. Both sets of muscles tremble in bliss, begging me to hold on for just a few moments more. Despite the dull ache of her boot cutting into me, the sweat pouring from my pores, and the almost unbearable burning to come that’s built up in my balls, I muscle through. Fuck her harder. Faster. Ferociously heave until she’s screaming like she’s being torn in two.

  “Coming! Coming! Fuck, I’m coming!”

  The shouted announcement registers to my nuts before my brain.

  Sopping heat sweeps my dick all the way down to the base, igniting blazing burst after burst to bury themselves deep inside. A copious amount of curse words claw themselves out of my mouth as the remaining fingers palm her firm ass. My wife whimpers and wiggles, orgasmic wave upon wave washing over her beautiful body. I swiftly attach my mouth to her neck anxious to not only feel the tremors but to taste them.

  Rather than rush to rearrange ourselves before we’re caught or run back to the wedding where we pretend no one noticed our absence, we tangle ourselves lovingly together. Let our tongues spend a few minutes fucking as our bodies just did.

  I hate our inability to have more than just a stolen moment here or there. Not just physically but mentally too. Over the past few weeks our most in depth one-on-one conversations not related to the children have taken place while one of us is shitting or showering. It’s ridiculous. And while I’m doing everything I can to be understanding regarding her new job’s demands, my patience for what it’s doing to us is dwindling. Mama and Big Foot keep telling me these are growing pains of a new career, and that they’ll pass.

  I hope like fuck they’re right.

  Not sure how much more dating my wife through her voicemail and sleepily
jerking it I can take.

  Almost the second we’re back at the bar, we’re accosted by my baby brother. “Where have you two been?”

  My wife salaciously smiles. “Havin’ dessert.”

  Runt’s eyes glance up to see a similar expression on my face.

  He skips inquiring more information and informs, “Well, you two finished just in time for the family dance.”

  Sienna and I link hands and follow him over to the area where the other members of our family are arriving.

  Runt gives the cue, and a classic George Strait song comes crooning out of the speakers.

  Big Foot unintentionally started this tradition that has trickled down the line to each of us. When our parents got married, their first dance was to a George Strait song due to the fact Pop proposed after they had gone to the little local concert he was playing in the next town over. Big Foot’s tribute to our parents was to play a George Strait song and have them, as well as the rest of us, dance to it with our dates. I repeated the homage. And now having Runt do the same instills a specific sense of family togetherness that I’m grateful we share. Unlike when Big Foot and I got married, this time our brothers aren’t just spending the song with someone they brought.

  No.

  This time they all understand the true significance.

  The treasure it is to hold the one person you can’t live without safely in your arms.

  The inexplicable feeling of having the other half that completes you right in the palm of your hand.

  Both of Sienna’s arms wind around my torso abandoning proper dance etiquette.

  I give her a similar treatment as we slowly sway side to side to “Check Yes or No”. “Remember our weddin’ day?”

  “Which one?”

  “We only had one weddin’ day.” My smile is jovial. “Two receptions. One weddin’.”

  “Two very different receptions…”

  “But one very special day.”

  “Was it?” Sienna playfully pokes.

  Regardless of the fact we’ve got a crowd of onlookers, I lower my hand to give her a playful pop on the ass.

  Her head falls back on a loud giggle.

  “Just as mouthy as you were the day I asked.”

  She hits me with a wide grin. “Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were gettin’ into.”

  “I knew exactly what I was gettin’ into, which is why, when you told me the only way you’d move in with me was if I was puttin’ a ring on your finger and plannin’ to walk you down the aisle, I hopped in my old beat up truck, emptied my savings to buy that first ring, and drove four hours to come get you so I could do jus’ that.”

  Probably the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.

  Definitely the best.

  Knocking her up is followed right behind it.

  “Sometimes I still can’t believe you found someone to marry us that quickly.”

  “Pastor Mueller was just grateful to get one more Shaw officially away from his daughters.”

  They had a reputation for chasing us…And we didn’t exactly have a reputation for telling them no.

  “Eh, I don’t blame him.” Sienna winks. “You Shaws are nothin’ but trouble.”

  “You wanna talk about trouble, Cherry Pie?”

  She immediately starts snickering.

  “Who convinced who to drive to their town at midnight so they could go skinny dipping, only to then get caught naked in the bed of the truck by basically an entire church congregation who was hosting an Easter Egg hunt there the next morning?”

  Sienna’s big brown eyes feign innocence.

  “Uh-huh…And you wonder why your parents hate me.”

  “That’s not why they hate you,” she swiftly denies. “That has more to do with you letting me be whoever it is I wanna be instead of just the vessel you pump your seed into.”

  Keeping the topic light is easy. “I mean…I did just pump my seed into you…”

  It’s her turn to deliver a spank to my ass.

  We exchange small laughs that are proceeded by me saying, “Speaking of holidays, are we still goin’ up there the day after Christmas this year?”

  She fights a grimace as she reveals a surprise, “No. They’re actually comin’ down.”

  Not the end of the world.

  We typically see them for a shorter amount of time when it’s them who has to do the traveling.

  “And…I’m actually going to be workin’ most of the day.”

  My voice does everything it can to stay even. “What?”

  “I know it’s not ideal, Superman-”

  “Puttin’ it mildly, Cherry Pie.”

  “But it is what it is. Langston has seniority when it comes to holiday time, and he requested off the day after.”

  I swallow my irritation.

  “There’s nothin’ I could do.”

  “Did you even try?”

  Her hesitation to answer shakes my head.

  “Unbelievable…”

  “Come on, Eddie. I didn’t wanna be that employee.”

  “The one who gives a fuck about spendin’ time with their family? “Cause that ain’t a bad person to be. I always was. Especially during the holidays.”

  “The employee who doesn’t understand her place at the bottom of the totem pole, asshole.” Sienna’s icy scowl sends a shiver down my spine. “You know damn well you don’t get first pick of anything when you’re still brand fucking new, so instead of treating me like a bitch for knowing how the business world works, how about you try to be a little more understanding?”

  More understanding?

  Did she really just say more?

  Like I’m barely trying at all?

  Like that’s not what I’m doing each night she’s missing dinner with our family whether it’s just the kids or all of us?

  “Things should calm down after the New Year.”

  Her attempt at hope doesn’t change my expression.

  The music fades from the George Strait song into a Cooper Copeland ballad that brings all the other coupled guests to the dance floor.

  “Think they’ll be calm enough for you to see a couple of small fry’s games or maybe one of bud’s Karate sessions?”

  Longing leaps onto her face. “Fuck, I sure hope so.”

  They do too…

  “Little surprised Kenny’s still into Karate,” she thoughtfully hums. “Kinda thought it’d fade by now.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s always been the type that phases in and out of shit, just like his me. There was that period of time where he would only wear red because he wanted to be a firefighter. Then there were those two months he was convinced he needed a pet snake. Oh! And don’t forget the entire month he woke up singing ‘Hello, Goodbye’ by the Beatles.”

  “Fuck that was a long month…”

  I love my boy, but I was praying for anything to shut down those vocal chords for a few days.

  Tugging her body a little closer to mine, I state, “I’m jus’ thankful he’s into somethin’ more than playin’ on his tablet. That was an ugly phase I didn’t love and ain’t lookin’ to repeat.”

  “Me either,” Sienna coos, head finding its way to my chest. “Me either…”

  Instead of letting it leak that he’s also into the idea of taking dance lessons according to the note he wrote Santa, I simply cage her closer and nestle my face in the poorly patted down dark locks that I love so much.

  We’ve treaded through enough murky subjects for the evening.

  After all, weddings are supposed to be happy and loving.

  Remind you of all the things you adore about your significant other, not all the bullshit you disagree on.

  No.

  Tonight, we’ll make the most of this time she managed to free herself from work and deal with everything else tomorrow.

  We’ve earned it.

  Besides, I’m not the type of bastard who ruins his baby brother’s wedding with his own problems. I’
m the kind who hands him a flask when he gets the jitters and gives him tips on making pregnancy sex at eight months easier for both of them. Every Shaw has his tricks. Guess mine is being able to put off the hard shit to make sure the good times last for just a little while longer…

  Chapter 7

  I think it’s a fair assumption that most children grow up not wanting to be anything like their parents. Sure. There are exceptions to that notion. There are exceptions to just about everything, but generally speaking, kids don’t want to become their parents, especially when their parents are conservative, closed-minded, Pleasantville lifestyle enthusiasts.