Must Love Logs (Must Love Series Book 4)

by Xavier Neal

  “Doctor Strange.”

  “Definitely looks strange to me,” Eddie quietly mutters near my ear.

  I nudge my foot into his under the table. “When did you start likin’ Doctor Strange?”

  “When Aunt London and Uncle Oliver brought me back the Lego Sanctum Sanctorum from their trip!”

  The memory seems to instantly remind Eddie of something. “Speaking of my brother and his new wife…remember, their reception is this weekend out at Mama and Pop’s. Please, please, please, don’t be late.”

  “Won’t be,” I swiftly retort. “Dawn swung by during my lunch break on Monday so we could go pick out dresses together.”

  His lips kick upward in a teasing fashion. “Which neon color are they?”

  “How’d you know they were neon?”

  “’Cause it’s London,” he lightly laughs between bites. “That woman doesn’t do quiet.”

  She doesn’t, which is why she’s perfect for the quietest Shaw of them all.

  “Mom,” Kenny calls to me, “can you hand me the butter pecan syrup?”

  I glance around the array of bottles in the caddy. Once it’s found, I grab it and pass it directly across the table. “And who are you makin’, bud?”

  His cheeks immediately redden.

  “Chanty,” Eddie nonchalantly announces. “Looks jus’ like her.”

  He darts his face upward so his eyes can meet with Eddie’s. “Ya think so?”

  My gaze settles on the creation in front of Kenny. God, I hope Eddie’s just trying to be supportive. I’m not sure how to react if this little girl only has one eyebrow that arches downward in a villainous fashion, two tiny white eyes placed directly next to her circular nose, and lips that take up most of her chin space.

  Drawing is definitely not in his wheelhouse.

  Kenny starts pouring a heavy amount of syrup near the top of the face and all around the plate. I quickly question, “Is that supposed to be hair?”

  He proudly nods. “She’s got so much hair, Mom. Like so much.”

  “It’s curly,” Eddie reminds him as he shoves another piece of bacon into his mouth.

  “And I have a helluva lot more than what’s on your plate sir.” I motion to the pancake that was supposedly me. “How come that bacon hasn’t made it down to my head yet?”

  He smacks during his explanation, “Givin’ ya a haircut.”

  “You’d lose your shit if I cut my hair like that.”

  My husband’s eyes drop down to the three small pieces surrounding his pancake. “Probably.”

  Kyle reaches into the bowl of white chocolate chips in the middle of the table grabbing a huge handful. Before either of us can inquire his artistic vision, he announces, “Needs hair stripes.”

  “Does he?” Eddie mocks on a head tilt. “Or are you jus’ tryin’ to get more chocolate?”

  “Says his father who is eating more bacon…”

  “Sh,” Superman commands, wrapping one arm around the back of the booth seat from his position beside me.

  “Can we take a picture of my pancake?” Kenny asks while gazing upon his creation. “I wanna show Chanty at rehearsal.” The statement forces his eyes back up to mine. “You’re still comin’ to the play, right Mom?”

  “Not next Friday,” Eddie swiftly reminds me, “but the following one. Friday night. Saturday at two. And one more at six.”

  Retrieving my phone out of my purse, I warmly promise, “I’ll be there.”

  “You don’t have to go to all three showings,” his father speedily informs. “But the opening and the closing ones are what’s gonna matter most. Pretty sure most of the fam will be there openin’ night, but only Mama and Pop will probably show up closin’, too.”

  I take a moment to mark my online calendar and set a reminder to tell Yasmine I’m going to need off early as well as completely off that Saturday. “Got it.”

  When my stare lifts in preparation of capturing the photo, I can’t help but notice the hopeful gleam in my son’s eyes.

  It’s obvious, like the girl in the pancake, this play means a lot to him.

  There’s no way I’ll let him down.

  Not when I’ve already missed so much, and it’s clear that this is important.

  Nothing will stop me from seeing him up on that stage.

  Not a damn thing.

  Chapter 12

  Over the past few months I’ve learned what truly makes an amazing morning…

  Having the luxury of sleeping through the entire night uninterrupted because no one had a bad dream involving a super villain and having the luxury of sleeping in because no one has a game, showcase, or practice are both towards the top of the list. But what’s in the number one spot?

  Having the luxury of just climbing between my wife’s legs as a result of the aforementioned reasons.

  Sienna’s thighs spread easy like smooth butter.

  Her half drowsy, half aroused state is one I miss seeing more often.

  Biggest cock block to morning sex lately has been her.

  Never thought my own wife would surpass my children’s capabilities.

  “Superman,” she softly whispers though it’s unclear if it’s in protest or praise.

  My finger pushes in a bit deeper while my thumb gently brushes the delicate little nub that’s desperate for more than the feathery touches it’s getting.

  Sienna wiggles her hips in an attempt to wordlessly command an increase to my actions. Instead of abiding, I carefully slip my fingers away, crawl between her legs, and remove the thin black barrier she happens to call her underwear.

  Her eyes struggle to open all the way. “I don’t think we have time…”

  “Common words out of your mouth, Cherry Pie.” My teasing is proceeded with grabbing her legs and bending them so that they are pressed to her chest. “Remember to keep your volume down.”

  “Super-”

  The objection is replaced with the need to moan. Her lips smash together, suppressing the sound to the best of her ability, and I smugly smile at the sight. My grip on the back of her thighs tightens as I slightly lean away to watch my lower half roll forward. It isn’t the most adventurous position, but it damn sure is a beautiful one. Observing the way my cock slides back and forth, in and out, disappearing and reappearing in the faint morning light has my balls tightening in a plea to come undone already. To paint her tight pussy white. To come all over it and then watch her spread it around her lower lips because she knows that’s the easiest way to get me ready for round two.

  Unfortunately, due to the fact it’s a school and work morning means there won’t be any time for a continuation of this shit.

  Nope.

  Means I gotta make the first round not only last but worth a damn, which means not coming in ten seconds or less.

  I readjust the angle of my hands so that one of my thumbs can toy with her clit. The second its there, her muscles swell around my shaft, sucking me in deeper. My teeth clamp down onto the corner of my lip to stop the groans that are growing from escaping. Sienna’s t-shirt covered frame consecutively squirms, anxious to have some sort of control over the situation. Her endless battle inches up the fabric more and more until I can almost see her pretty pink nipples. My free hand reaches up, balls the material, and exposes the stiffened peaks. She gasps yet lets it quickly fade into a louder moan when I use the gathered clothing as a tool to yank her frame against mine. Our bodies collide in their favorite rough but tender nature. I thrust slowly. Sharply. Pierce through the slickness like it’s the only thing I was made for. Sienna shuts her eyes. Shudders. Submerges my thick cock into her scorching heat. Airy satisfied sighs are repeatedly exchanged, and I struggle to keep my orgasm from showing itself sooner rather than later.

  All of a sudden, there’s a vibration across her nightstand that threatens to steal her attention.

  Sienna’s flushed face isn’t given the opportunity to move. The hold I had on her shirt is abandoned for one of her chin. “Don’t even th
ink about answerin’ that shit before you come on my cock.”

  My declaration is reiterated with an increase in pressure against her clit.

  Her pussy harshly clenches at the same time her fingers tangle into the light gray sheets.

  Somehow the sound of her phone across the wood seems to get louder as if daring me to compete with it. Not one to be outdone, especially not by whoever is on the other end of that damn device, I increase my momentum determined now more than ever, to have all of her thoughts engrossed in this.

  In us.

  In me.

  Pump upon pump attached to stroke on top of stroke prove to be more important than whatever work could possibly be requesting at this very moment. Sienna’s fit figure begins a familiar shaking that pulls a hefty size grumble out of my mouth. Her muscles constrict once in warning of a surrender. I clench my teeth and continue the seemingly ceaseless circles on her clit. A high pitched, faint squeak is the last admonition given before she sets her climax free. Thick, sweltering stickiness soaks my dick, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to stop myself from coming. Blistering spates are instantly greeted by erotically content murmurs. She shifts herself upward to ensure her pussy doesn’t let a single drop of cum spill. The view of my wife’s hooded eyes, heaving chest, and trembling thighs causes me to keep pushing until my kicking cock is unquestionably empty. Then, and only then, do I relinquish the assault on her sensitive body.

  I gingerly slip myself out and allow her legs to finally find solace. Rather than allow Sienna to rush away to the phone that’s beginning it’s fourth or fifth round of obnoxious buzzing, I hover over her, lips mounted on top of hers, tongue relentlessly searching for its partner. The love of my life warmly sighs at the sensation and spins hers softly around. One hand lands sweetly against my scruff, proving I have no reason to worry.

  Her attention is here.

  With me.

  That I matter more than a ringing phone.

  Or work.

  Deepening the kiss is quickly interrupted.

  The alarm on my phone blares, and unlike hers, it shouldn’t be ignored.

  Pulling back, I quietly complain, “Ever feel like there are too many school days during the week?”

  She snickers and strokes the side of my face. “Pretty sure the boys do.”

  “Sadly, they don’t. They love going to school…”

  “You’ll see just how much you love it, too, when summer hits in a few weeks.”

  I prepare to rebut when her cellphone starts vibrating again.

  “I really should get that. They don’t usually call this many times in a row. There’s probably an emergency.”

  Sarcasm can’t keep itself out of my tone. “A baking emergency? What the fuck would that even be? A cake caught on fire and burned the shop down?”

  Her eyes widen in horror as she shoves me away to answer the call. “Why would you even say that?”

  “I-”

  “Hello!?” The powerful gasp shakes the entire bed. “No! No way! There was an actual fire?”

  Guilt grabs me by the throat seconds prior to her blazing gaze landing on me. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t start it! I was here fucking you.”

  Her glare is immediate.

  My mouth twitches to express my apologies when she rolls out of bed at the same time she states, “No! No! I wanna know everything! Put me on speaker. I’m listening!”

  “Cherry Pie,” I call to her as she crosses over to the bathroom.

  She tosses me an impatient expression.

  “Remember, tonight is Kenny’s play.”

  Sienna hastily nods.

  “Seriously,” my emphasis is met by a deepened scowl, “don’t forget, and don’t be late.”

  Her palm curls over the receiver, allowing her to snip at me in secret. “Don’t start that shit right now, Eddie. I’ve got a crisis I’m trying to listen to it.”

  I lift my hands in surrender, yet can’t deny the ball of dread building in the pit of my stomach.

  Just being paranoid…

  Just placing my worry in the wrong place.

  Just redirecting my irritation with our interrupted morning to the farfetched idea of something interrupting our evening.

  And that’s all it is.

  Farfetched.

  Unlikely.

  Impossible.

  Sienna promised our son she’d be there tonight, and, come hell or highwater, she will be.

  Chapter 13

  Yasmine paces back and forth in front of the damage done as if her actions can erase the results of faulty equipment.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she compassionately states into the phone, “I understand these cupcakes are for your daughter’s sweet sixteen-”

  The sound of my boss’s voice disappearing has me cutting her a glance over my shoulder to see that she’s profusely nodding.

  “And I completely agree,” Yasmine rushes to declare. “It is the most special time in a young girl’s life.”

  “Beg to differ,” I mutter under my breath, dipping the bottom half of the strawberry into the sauce pan.

  “Was it not special for you?” Langston quietly chuckles across from me. “Did your mother not throw you a grand, over the top production of a party that required teams of people to slave themselves near death so that you could be the most popular girl in the school?”

  I toss him a sarcastic look after placing the berry on the wax paper-lined cookie sheet. “You would be referring to my two younger siblings.”

  He pulls the kiwi out of the white chocolate mixture. “Fuck, really?”

  “Oh yeah,” my answer is proceeded with me sprinkling crushed nuts on top of the wet chocolate portion of the berry. “She went to extreme lengths to get them both their Malibu Barbie dream come true sweet sixteen parties and weddings. Part of me is convinced they’re still paying off the latter.”

  “No…”

  My nod is slow and steady.

  “What’d you get?”

  “For my birthday or my wedding?”

  “Birthday first, wedding second.”

  “Concert tickets to some boyband I was into back in the day, primarily because I didn’t have enough friends for an entire shindig, and then a pretentious as fuck reception as punishment for eloping.”

  “Your parents sound delightful.”

  “They’re amazing,” I sarcastically sneer while moving onto the last strawberry.

  “What the fuck is the birthday thing about though?” L ponders. “You know, guys turn sixteen it’s no big deal. There’s no ‘And Now He’s a Man’ party or ushering us into manhood with a keg and a stripper.”

  “Twenty-one,” I remind him on a laugh. “You’re ushered into that shit at twenty-one.”

  He cocks a crooked smirk, dips another kiwi slice, and agrees, “Touché.”

  “Of course, ma’am. We’ll be there on time.” Yasmine’s ending of the call interrupts our conversation. She relocates to be in front of us instead of behind. “Good news is I managed to convince Mrs. Whitson that her sweet sixteen would be extra sweet if we offered multiple things dipped in chocolate rather than just cupcakes.”

  “That is good news.”

  Langston meets my echoed enthusiasm with a glower. “Did you forget how that shit works?”

  Before I can request clarification, Yasmine sighs, “The bad news is all this is basically free as compensation for having to make the switch.”

  I instantly scrunch my nose at the inference Langston was trying to make a moment ago.

  Ah.

  The good news, shit news balance.

  He helplessly rolls his eyes. “Oh, like it’s your fault that one of the new ovens caught on fire this morning, which is why we’re not allowed to use any of them.”

  Not until everything gets settled with the Fire Department. Between dealing with them, the company she ordered the appliance from, and trying to rearrange the couple of orders we have for this weekend, Yasmine has barely been
off the phone for longer than ten minutes.

  “Doesn’t matter,” our boss sighs. “What matters is we can’t deliver what they paid for, so hits have to be taken. Cost choked down. Business…rearranged.” Her hand flies to her temple where it delivers a soothing rub. “Hopefully, we get everything with the Fire Department finished and wrapped up by Monday. Because it wasn’t a huge fire and came from just the new appliance, there’s a higher probability we can get back to baking by Tuesday. Until then, we need to consider ourselves fucking grateful we’re even allowed to use this part of the kitchen.”