Three nights with Wren instead of two. “That’s fantastic news.”
“What time are we going to dinner?”
“Supposed to meet them in an hour but traffic will probably be chaotic. Can you be ready to go in thirty minutes?”
“Even if I put on a little makeup I can be ready in fifteen.”
“I love when a girl is beautiful and low maintenance.” Bridgette used to piss me off so bad taking forever to get ready. That’s Warren’s problem now.
As promised, Wren is ready in fifteen minutes, and lovely as ever. “Denim shorts and a tank top okay for the restaurant and an outdoor concert?”
“It’s a bar and grill that serves vegan. Very casual so you look perfect.”
I lean against the back of the couch and pull her to stand between my legs. She wraps her arms around my shoulders as I slip my hands into the back pockets of her shorts. “I’m very happy you’re here.”
“Me too.”
“I’ve been working on Stout, getting him used to seeing me fully committed to a girlfriend. You may not know it but I walk the line for you. And it’s a fine one.”
“A fine line, huh? I like that.” Wren puts her hands on my chest and rubs my nipples through my T-shirt. “You’re with Ollie almost every day. When you feel he’s ready to know, I’m all in.”
“He’s not there yet but I’m afraid he’ll feel betrayed in a different kind of way if we hide it from him too long. I was thinking maybe we tell him after we’ve had a couple more weekends together.”
“I’m good with a month.”
I pull her close and inhale deeply. Damn, I’ve missed this smell. “This bar and grill has some great specialty drinks. Want to go on a little early and grab one?”
“Sounds good.”
“They’ll probably be late anyway. Bridg doesn’t have the best track record for being on time and adding another kid to the equation isn’t going to speed things.”
“Poor thing. We should have gone over there to make things easier on them.”
I’m not opposed to that. “We still can. It might help them get out the door a little faster.”
Wren’s eyes widen. “Let’s do. I would love to see Ava again and meet little Tripp.”
“That works for me. We can get them to chauffeur us so we can drink as much as we want without worrying about driving.”
“Yes. Because we don’t need a DUI and rehab for a damn month to get out of it.”
“Amen.”
Wren gasps when we walk out. “Where did my car go?”
“I moved it around back while you were getting ready. It would be a dead giveaway if Stout came by.”
“True.”
I follow Wren to the passenger door of my truck and open it for her. “Such the gentleman.”
“You won’t say that later.”
“Mmm . . . have something feisty in mind?”
“Definitely.”
* * *
Warren is the one to answer the door. “Boudreaux, it’s gone to hell in a fucking hand basket.”
No surprise. “We suspected it might. That’s why we’re here.”
“The babysitter is late, Bridgette can’t get ready because Tripp wants to nurse every fifteen minutes, I haven’t showered because Ava is acting out and doesn’t want us to leave. By the way, nice to see you again, Wren. I’m sorry you’ve unsuspectingly walked into hell.”
This carnival is rolling on four flats. “What can we do to help?”
“Whatever you’re willing to do.” Warren is too damn overwhelmed to even make that decision. Parenthood is no joke.
“Uncle Boudreaux, you get Bebelle.” Wren points at Warren and then toward the hallway. “Bring Tripp to me so Bridgette can finish getting ready and then you go shower.”
Warren nods. “That’s a good plan.”
He leaves and returns a moment later with Tripp, passing him to Wren. “Thank you for coming by and doing this.”
“No problem.”
Wren isn’t a wife or mother. How is she able to walk through the door, dish out orders, and become the element to bring calm to this storm?
This woman never ceases to amaze me, no matter the issue.
Others judge. She accepts.
Others choose cruelty. She chooses compassion.
Others deny sympathy. She offers empathy.
Such a beautiful woman, inside and out.
Wren goes to the sofa with Tripp. She places him on her lap and bends over him, making eye contact. “Hello there, little guy. Are you using your mama as a pacifier? I think you are.” He grasps her thumbs and she kisses his tiny fingers. “He’s so cute, Brou.”
“I told you he was awesome.”
“He is indeed.” She picks him up and presses his cheek to hers. “What a snuggle bug.”
Ava runs into the room and tackles my leg. “Hello, Bebelle.” I pick her up and toss her into the air. “How is my girl?”
“Good.”
Ava looks over and sees Wren. “Wren.” I can’t believe she remembers her.
Ava goes to her when Wren holds out her arm, inviting her to sit next to her. “What do you think of your little brother?”
“He cwies a lot. I wanted a sista.”
“I have a baby brother too. Well, he’s not a baby anymore but he was a long time ago. I didn’t like him much at first because he cried and stole my toys but then he got a little older. And you know what happened?”
“Wut?”
“He became my best friend. And he has been since. I know you love Tripp even if you may not be crazy about him right now. And it’s okay. But that will change. Tripp will be your best friend one day soon.”
“’Kay.” Ava’s off and running.
Wren shrugs. “Well, I tried.”
“Good effort.”
Wren strokes her finger down the center of Tripp’s face from his forehead, down the slope of his nose, over his lips, ending at his chin. He closes his eyes each time she does it and before long, keeps them closed. “Is that baby voodoo?”
“He’s probably picking up on Bridgette’s anxiety so I’m helping him relax.” Within minutes, Tripp has gone to sleep.
Wren brings his hand to her cheek and strokes it down her face. “Nothing is sweeter than a baby.” Shit. She loves babies. She is a natural with babies. How could I have been so wrong?
Bridgette could be right. I may end up losing Wren because she wants things I can’t give her.
Things I won’t give her.
Lawrence Thorn
The food at the bar and grill was delectable. The drinks were to die for and the concert was one of the best shows I’ve seen in a while. It’s been an excellent night, although I’ve probably had more to drink than I should.
Bridgette pulls to a stop in front of Brou’s house. “This was a great first post-baby outing. I’m so glad you were able to make it into town, Wren.”
“It was so much fun. I’m glad you had the extra tickets.”
Brou opens his door and I slide over to get out behind him. “We’ll come by and get my truck tomorrow.”
“That’ll be fine.”
I wrap my arms around Brou from behind while he digs for the keys in his pocket. “I’m glad we did that. It was a great night.”
“Bridg and Warren are fun people.”
“She cracks me up.”
“Yeah, Bridgette’s the comedian of the two.” I can see that.
“This reminds me of a time not so long ago when someone had his hand in my panties while I was trying to open the door.” I slide my hand into the front of his jeans and move it up and down his cock. “I was so distracted I could hardly get it open. Let’s see if you do better than me.”
“Definitely distracting.” He puts the key in the lock and turns it. “Mmm . . . damn, that feels good. Eleven days is a long time.”
He swings the door wide. “Open sesame.”
He twists in my arms and grabs my waist, pulling me hard against him while we
clumsily pass through the entrance. “God, I’ve missed you so bad.”
“I know the feeling. I’ve missed you, too.”
“I want you in my bed right now.”
“I’m good with that.”
Brou walks backward, kissing me the whole way while removing our clothes. We’re both naked by the time we make it to the bed. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. Always you.”
“Slow and sweet or fast and furious?”
I guess most women would choose to make slow, sweet love but I’m in the mood for something different. Heated passion. I crave it. Need it. Now. “I really just want you to fuck me hard.” We can take our time making love later.
“Woman, you’re hotter than a damn firecracker. Let’s try something a little different.”
“Okay.” The word different has never frightened me.
He kisses up my neck until his mouth covers my ear. “On the bed. Hands and knees. Ass up, baby.” Oh, my. That sounds dirty. I like it.
He slaps my naked ass. It stings a little, but not enough to hurt. Whatever he has in mind, I’m in.
“Do it now, Wren.” His voice is gruff. Demanding. Hot. “Face the headboard.”
I twist around and do as he instructs.
I feel the bed dip when he crawls over me from behind. Hot skin is all I feel, except for the huge erection pressing against my butt cheek.
He presses his lips against the back of my neck and peppers me with kisses as he slowly moves to my shoulder. His teeth graze the skin there and chills erupt over my entire body. My back arches as though it has a mind of its own. The way he makes my body respond is crazy.
I’m squirming beneath him, rubbing my bottom from side to side against his erection. His hand creeps around to my stomach and then lower so he can stroke me in that delightful place. Each and every nerve ending from my waist down is ignited.
“Hands on the headboard. Lock your elbows or you’ll hit your head.” Oh, shit. What is he going to do to me?
His hand abandons me in the front, temporarily, so his fingers can enter me from behind. They slide in and out softly and slowly at first but then he changes maneuvers and uses quick, jerky motions very much like tapping vibrations against the pleasure center nestled beneath my pelvic bone. Holy shit, what is he doing? It’s magnificent.
The tension in my body builds until I’m stiff as a board. Trembling. Waiting. Biting my lip in desperation for whatever is coming. “Wren, you are about to come so hard.”
Fuck, he ain’t lying.
More tapping. Slowly in and out. Quick tapping. More vibrations. Shit. This is so good. Can’t. Hold. On. Much. Longer. Tap. Tap.
I’m a shuddering mess when the first wave hits. “Ohh . . . ohh.”
The quaking starts in my core. Heat spreads. Nerves tingle. Muscles deep inside vibrate a series of contracting and relaxing. It’s too many sensations to withstand at once. I’m on a cliff, about to fall. Or jump. I don’t know if my parachute will open. And I don’t care. I hear Brou tell me I’m his, and I let him push me over the edge.
This orgasm owns me. And so does he.
“Tell me, Wren. I want to hear you say it again.”
I know what he means. “I’m yours, Brou,” I groan through gritted teeth as the sensation radiates down between my legs to finish me off.
He kisses me between my shoulder blades. “Good girl.”
I collapse face down on the bed, panting. “Not yet; we aren’t done.” Oh, shit. What have I asked for?
I rise onto my hands and knees. “Lock ’em against the headboard. Whatever you do, don’t bend them.”
“Okay.” I’ll do whatever this man tells me in this moment.
He pushes my knees apart with his and positions himself at my entrance. He burrows into me hard and fast. I understand now why he told me to keep my arms locked against the headboard—to hold me in place, so he didn’t send my head crashing into it.
He grasps my hips, his fingertips holding my flesh tightly as he pounds into me over and over from behind. I told him to fuck me hard. Well, he listened.
He slows to a stop and panting fills the room. “Get on your stomach.”
I move to lie facedown. His body stretches over mine, his chest and stomach wet with sweat so his skin sticks to me. He grips my chin, turns my head to the side, and kisses the corner of my mouth. “You are so precious to me.”
His knees go to the outside of my thighs forcing my legs together—not his usual method of spreading me wide. He rubs his tip through my slit and pushes against my bottom but he doesn’t go in. “Arch your back and tilt your ass up.”
Brou glides in easily once we achieve the perfect position. Oh my . . . this is different. And fucking good.
He’s pushing my legs together instead of apart but it feels incredible. He presses my hips into the bed, pounding me into the mattress each time he thrusts deeper.
His breath is ragged in my ear. His thrusts are slower but still hard and deep. “I’m gonna come inside you.”
I lock my arms extra tight. “Do it. Fill me up.”
He drives into me hard as he growls. “I am. Two weeks’ worth.”
When he’s done, Brou relaxes and rests his forehead on the back of my head. His warm, quick breath permeates my hair. “Fuck. That was something.”
He pulls out and rolls to his back, taking me with him to lie against his chest. I hitch my leg over his, and he rubs his hand up and down my thigh until he reaches my cheek and squeezes. “Damn, baby. That was good. I may not mind the miles if it means we get to reunite like that every time.”
“I’m not crazy about the distance but it does initiate some damn good sex.”
“Not too rough?”
My fingers make a game of twirling the hair on his stomach. “It was a wee bit on the aggressive side but I liked it.”
He cups his arm around my shoulder and moves it up and down my arm. “I like how you’ll let me be crude and ungentlemanly with you and then gentle and tender the next time.”
“I enjoy the polar opposites of both.”
His hand finds mine and intertwines our fingers. I love when he does that. Feels so affectionate.
“Bridgette is very fond of you. She told me I should hold on to you tightly.”
“And you said?”
He squeezes my hand. “Bridg, it’s going to be tough but I plan on holding her as tightly as she’ll let me.”
“Good answer.” We have a lot of things working against us. I’m not sure we have a fighting chance but I still want to try.
“What are our plans for tomorrow?”
“The options are endless so anything you want.”
I try to remember some of the things I’ve done on my other visits to Birmingham. “Ollie took me to the farmers’ market one time. I wouldn’t mind going back.”
“We can do that.”
“I’d love to get fresh ingredients and cook a vegan meal for you.”
“Yeah, that would be great.” No hesitation. I like that.
“What about inviting Bridgette, Warren, and the kids? Or would you prefer it were just the two of us?” I like being around them. I’m probably the first girlfriend in history to ever like hanging out with her boyfriend’s ex-wife.
“I’d love to invite them. They have me over all the time and I never return the favor. I’m sure it’ll be a nice treat to have someone cook dinner for them.”
“Tomorrow is supposed to be beautiful. You should invite them to the farmers’ market too.”
“I’ll ask.”
A long yawn escapes my mouth. “Someone’s tired.”
“Very.” The long drive and our night out drinking have stolen my pep.
Brou turns in the bed, cueing me to twist with him so I’m lying on my side with him cuddling behind me. Spooning. I like that.
He kisses the back of my head. “Sweet dreams, Wren.”
* * *
“Any requests for dinner?”
“Piz
za,” Ava says.
Brou pats her on top of the head. “Wren is preparing dinner for us tonight. She wants to cook something special.”
“Pizza,” she squeals.
Bridgette huffs. “That child and her eating habits are going to be the death of me.”
I’m no gourmet chef but I want this dinner to be delicious and satisfying. “I was thinking grilled vegetable galettes. I can make a pizza version for Ava.”
Bridgette stops pushing Tripp’s stroller. “Wren, you don’t have to go to that trouble.” I like how Warren and Bridgette have chosen to call me Wren as well.
Mom and Dad have never been one to use nicknames, but Law, said with their doting affection, has always made me feel loved and cherished. Ollie calls me sis and Lawry, which has been something he’s done since he was little. Being called Wren by people Brou so clearly considers family is . . . inclusive, accepting. It’s nice.
It’s nothing to throw together a little tomato sauce mixture. “It’s no trouble and I like to call it being deliciously deceptive. I guarantee I can serve her the healthiest pizza she’s ever had and she’ll love every bite.”
“Please. All she wants to eat are hot dogs, French fries, and pizza—the unhealthy kind.”
I lower my voice so Ava can’t hear me. “I’ll puree her vegetables in the sauce, make a smiley face with the soy cheese. She’ll never know she’s eating something good for her.”
“I will seriously kiss you hard if you pull this off.”
The look on Warren’s face is priceless when he covers Ava’s ears and whispers, “Ooh, girl-on-girl action?”
Bridgette covers her daughter’s eyes with her hands. I’m thinking to myself all she needs now is her mouth covered when Ava places her own hand to her lips. She’s been trained well to see, hear, and speak no evil. “Shut up, jackass. She’s going to think we’re kinky weirdos or something.”
Brou puts his arms around me from behind. “Both of you can forget it. I’m the only one who kisses this woman.”
Bridgette shakes her head as she stares. “Who are you and what have you done with our best friend?”
“Same ole me, Bridg, but improved.”
Tap Page 20
