by K. S. Adkins
Skimming the listings, I forced myself not to make a decision without Eddie's input.
But it was hard because Connie found some gems and each unit was more gorgeous than the last.
Oh, and the beauty? They all faced the ocean. The fucking ocean!
But I wasn’t so caught up in my next phase of life that I didn’t catch what Griff had said. Thing is, I didn’t get why he said it. Sure, he was like my pseudo dad, but I rarely discussed my private life with him and certainly hadn’t in the last couple of weeks.
While Connie was outside on the phone, I dialed Griff back and when he answers, I don’t hesitate. “You said Eddie and I.”
“I did.”
“I never said anything about Eddie.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“Griff,” I sighed in annoyance at his super power. “What’s going on?”
Just then Eddie blew into the kitchen announcing, “Whoever that is, call them back. We have plans.”
Connie quickly peeked her head in to say, “I’m out,” and bolted with no goodbye.
“Like I said,” Griff chuckled. “You didn’t need to.”
What the actual hell was happening?
“This isn’t over,” I promised him, and like always, he ended the call with, “Love ya, kid.”
Grabbing my bag, I slung it over my shoulder asking Eddie, “Where are we going?” on my way out to his truck.
“Taking your car, superstar,” he said heading to the driver’s side. “Toss me the keys.”
Giving him a look, he mumbled, “I forgot,” and climbed in.
Eddie forgetting my car used a fob was unusual since he never forgot anything. Sensing he was on edge, I was waiting a few miles to speak when he groaned, “The fuck, Pharis?”
“What?” I asked, snapping out of my thoughts.
But there was no mistaking what Eddie was clutching in his fist. “Why is this in your car?”
Biting my lip, I said, “Traffic.”
“Traffic?”
“As in, it’s boring, and I need something to do.”
“You masturbate in traffic?”
“Personally, I think it’s weird most people don’t.”
“It has a USB port...”
“I know,” I grinned. “It’s amazing.”
Tossing it at me, he demanded, “Do it.”
“Do what?”
“Get yourself off while I drive.”
Not looking to pass an opportunity by, I unzipped my jeans, shimmying them down just enough for access, and turned it on. I slid it under my panties. The second it hit, I moaned and caused Eddie swerve.
“Shit,” he said quickly. “Sorry, baby. No matter what happens, do not stop.”
Letting my head fall toward him, I watched his reaction to my grinding on the passenger seat.
“Fuck, Eddie,” I whimpered. “It feels so good.”
Gripping my thigh, he grated, “How good, Pharis? Tell me.”
“Slippery, warm, and oh God...”
“What—”
“Dirty.”
“Fuck,” he growled.
“That’s what I need, Eddie. To fuck.”
“Soak that plastic now, and you can soak my fat cock later.”
“Promise?” I said, closing my eyes and then like lightning it was on me.
“Yes, Pharis. Fuck, baby, ride it out for me.”
And as instructed, I did.
When his hand found the vibrator, he nor I bothered turning it off.
Instead, when we stopped, I let Eddie work me into another blinding orgasm on the passenger seat.
Gripping him hard, I broke the kiss, remembering we were in the car.
Blinking at my surroundings, I asked, “Why are we at the stadium?”
Suddenly, I felt duped and... relaxed.
While she didn’t get pissed often, when she did, look out.
My mistake was yelling out in pain and then trying to play that pain off as blood was squirting out of my thumb. Grabbing my wrist, she looks me over and with her free hand turns the water on.
“What the hell happened?”
“I was making dinner,” I pointed out the obvious.
“I told you that thing was deadly,” she argued, trying to staunch the flow.
“Not deadly, handy.”
“This is the second time you’ve almost lost a finger making French fries!”
“Crinkle cuts,” I defended because there was a distinct difference.
Narrowing her eyes, she said, “I’m revoking your Amazon Prime privileges.”
“If I wasn’t bleeding out, I’d spank your ass for that, superstar.”
Biting her lip, she whispered, “You need stitches.”
My wife, see, she got worked up if I was hurt.
And I’m positive the stitches were harder on her than they were me.
Because when it came to me, she felt everything.
My one sentence answers weren’t appeasing her. And when I flashed my key card, she stopped, planted her feet, and demanded to know, “What the fuck is going on? When did you get your card reactivated?”
I didn’t explain because I had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate my forethought of keeping it in a moment.
Instead I said, “Griff called me, someone broke in and trashed your office.”
Pharis blinked once, twice, then sighed and ordered, “Move.”
“Super—”
“Move, Eddie! Before I move you!”
Throwing her door open, she stepped inside and froze.
For a solid minute, she slowly moved in a circle until she noticed...
“My face,” she whimpered softly. “It’s cut out of all the pictures.”
“I’m going to find out who did this,” I vowed, barely keeping my rage in check.
“When?”
“Well...”
“No, when did this happen?”
“Last night.”
“And you’re just telling me now?”
“You were having a good time,” I confessed while I selfishly held back the truth. “I just wanted you to smile a little longer, Pharis.”
“Who did I piss off?” she asked, scanning the room. “I mean, whoever this is hates me.”
Or quite possibly me. That’s what I needed to figure out. I was lost in thought when she said, “You know who it is, don’t you?”
“The graffiti, cameras, the note, and your office...”
“What note?”
“Shit,” I groaned hating that I was busted again. I mean, hello, I’m a cop. “He left a note.”
“The day you ditched me with Connie acting as babysitter,” she guessed. “We had truth on the clock, and you lied to me.”
“I did.”
“This won’t work if you shut me out again. This includes lying.”
“I know.”
“I’m not scared,” she said defiantly, and I saw the truth in her words, which terrified me.
“You should be,” I shouted. “This is my fault!”
“We’re not doing this here,” she said and headed for the door. “Let’s go home.”
The drive back was quiet, too quiet, but I’ll be damned if I knew what to say to make this better for her.
We were pulling back in her driveway when she asked, “Is that why you wanted me to get off in the car?”
“Yes and no. Watching you go off is hot, superstar. When I die, I hope your head thrown back in ecstasy is the last thing I see. But I won’t lie. I wanted you relaxed too.”
Leaning in, she whispered, “Thank you, Eddie.”
After everything that happened, she was... thanking me.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked, joining me on the couch.
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s your first Superbowl, superstar. I’d be worried if you could sleep.”
“Take my mind off my nerves?”
Moving to between my legs, he inhaled deeply. “Spread wide. Because I’m gonna eat
your pussy ‘til you pass out.”
We had just fucked on the kitchen table on top of the condo listings when I felt him getting hard again. “Really?” I laughed in shock. “You just came.”
“Can’t get enough of you.”
The truth was I couldn’t get enough of him either. But my vagina needed a break, so lifting the flyer I said, “The condo is sharp, huh?” I was holding up the unit we selected together. Honestly, all of it was surreal. The amount of money the network was paying me, the perks, the condo...
“For the positive attention you’ll bring the network it fucking should be, baby.”
“I can’t believe you resigned for me.”
“For us.”
“And I get my very own employee!” I clapped enthusiastically.
“Mmm,” he growled, grinding into me. “I get to fuck my boss.”
“We’re really doing this?”
“Fuck yeah we are, superstar. Together.”
With everything in me, I squealed out, “I am so excited!”
And Eddie was too.
Seeing as he had flipped me onto my stomach and was drilling me from behind before I took my next breath.
This time there was an urgency there.
It was unspoken, but I’m pretty sure we were both thinking the sooner we landed in Miami the better.
While I couldn’t put my finger on it, I felt like my time in Detroit, quite possibly on earth, was running out.
Eddie was showering and I was on the couch when Griff called. I wanted to tell him all about the condo we chose when he interrupted. And let me just say, the information he shared with me that Eddie hadn’t bothered to was disturbing. On and on Griff spoke and I sat there, numb. Of course, he only kept going because he assumed I was in the know.
I wasn’t. Until now.
But now that I was my head was fucked up ten ways from Sunday.
So fucked up in fact that I wasn’t sure how I would even broach the subject Eddie was hell bent on shielding me from or, if I should.
With all the emotions battering me, Lord help me, I chose patience.
I may not like Eddie withholding information, but if we were going to make it, I had to trust him.
Well, if I didn’t kick his ass first.
I remember the six of us had spent the entire day and night moving us into our new place.
Pharis and I were the first to own a house, and we were stoked to have a party pad.
Sure, it wasn’t much because we were just starting out, but it was ours.
As the years went on, both of us made enough to upgrade but neither wanted to.
We loved our little house in the city. It had everything we needed.
A kitchen and a bed.
For us, it was home.
The last two days had been crazy busy.
Between packing my shit, packing her shit, and arguing with her landlord to hold off on showings until we left, we were spent. But I wasn’t bitching because our friends had shown up today with booze, pizza, and a shit ton of extra boxes for the rest of her shoes. Thanks to her girls, she had more shoes than any sane woman needed.
It was like old times and until the group was together being loud and foul, I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.
These people were my family, my heart.
Being without my wife was misery, but not having her crazy girls around blew too.
Yet, here we were, burying grudges, building trust, and moving forward.
Together.
Exhausted, neither of us were thrilled when Griff had thrown an impromptu happy hour at us demanding our attendance. When actually it was her Detroit crew that wanted to do something special for her. Walking into Grand Trunk Pub, I immediately took her hand so I wouldn’t lose her.
Not that it was possible. But this place was always wall to wall people, and we weren’t here five minutes when I swore someone grabbed my ass.
Though, it was worth it to see Pharis passed around to be hugged, kissed, thanked, and congratulated.
Which got me thinking that had I not pursued Pharis when I did, I wouldn’t be a part of this and the thought was troubling. Stowing the what ifs, I focused on the present.
Pharis was mine again, forever this time.
Despite the immense amount of people, watching everything my woman worked for come to fruition was... unforgettable.
So was hearing her co-worker’s wife say to mine, “Look at you, so thin! You look fantastic. Maybe I need the divorce diet.”
But the real treat was her response. “Cory, hi,” Pharis offered her best fake smile. “I’m terrific, thanks for asking. Girl, you don’t need the divorce diet.”
“Aww, I don’t?”
See, Pharis got on well with Mike. Thought he was a stand-up guy. However, Pharis couldn’t stand his woman, and I’m pretty sure no one else could either. Poor Mike.
“No. What you need is to gain a personality and ditch the gag reflex.”
Cue in my heroic rescue. Seriously, I lived for this shit.
“It’s late, superstar,” I said, tagging her waist and kissing her neck.
“Eddie,” Cory said, reeking of booze. “You look...bigger. Divorce looks good on you.”
“You know what else looks good on me?”
“What’s that?”
“My wife’s pussy. On my face.”
“Bye, Cory!” Pharis blurted, pulling me through the crowd, out the door, and straight to her car.
Laughing maniacally, she had to put her head between her legs to breathe. Of course, my mind went to all sorts of interesting places, but I still found the strength to ask, “How long have you been waiting to shut that bitch up?”
Wiping her eyes, she smiled, “Ten long years.”
On the ride home, she explained she was done being polite to assholes because protocol demanded it. Not only did I agree with her I was relieved.
Pharis was always doing what others believed was the right thing. Seeing her buck the system a bit was hot.
Later that night, we were lying in bed, tangled in each other when I asked, “Did you really sleep in my clothes?”
Rolling up to her elbows, I witnessed a blush spread across her high cheekbones as she whispered, “I didn’t handle losing you very well.”
Not sure what to say, I was caught off-guard when she asked, “Did the women really look like me?”
“Let me guess, Griff?”
“Yes.”
“The thought of something happening to you,” I said honestly. “I didn’t handle it well either.”
“I can’t imagine how you felt, Eddie. I’m just sorry I wasn’t strong enough to help you carry the weight.”
“You think that’s why I didn’t tell you?”
“Wasn't it?”
Thumbing her hair, I explained, “I wanted to be the hero, Pharis. I thought I could catch him, save you, and win you right back. I thought wrong.”
With her hand on my chest, she whispered, “You’ve always been my hero.”
“Not when I broke your heart,” I pointed out. “I was the villain.”
Offering me a soft smile she said, “You were, Eddie. Even then.”
“I still see the hurt in your eyes, baby. Hurt I put there.”
“No,” she said vehemently. “The hurt you see is for us. For what he took from us. This hurt isn’t because of you. It’s for you. I wasn’t there to ease your suffering, and I want to kill him for it. Kill him for the hurt I see in your eyes.”
Reaching for the lamp, I cut the light and pulled her close so she wouldn’t notice my tears.
But the darkness didn’t last long. Because she turned on her lamp and straddled me. “Do you think this is Casanova?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Okay then, fuck him,” she said. “This time, we fight.”
“Superstar—” I tried.
“Are you going to leave me again?”
“No!” I growled, gripping her hips.
&nb
sp; “Then like I said, we fight. Or rather, you fight and I cheer you on. Seriously, Facebook knows we’re together. Our friends and co-workers know. Miami isn’t the other side of the world, it’s a plane ride. So, if this muff fucker wants a fight we fight.”
God, this woman was everything. “You said muff fucker.”
“I’m working on it. Damn. Did you not hear my speech?”
Pulling her close, I kissed her hard and promised her, “I’m going to end this.”
“Mmm,” she whispered against my lips. “But first, I’m riding you.”
Slapping her ass, I said, “Giddy-up,” and tucked my hands behind my head.
I’ll never forget standing on the sidelines of Ford Field with a dry mouth and sweaty palms. The Lions had put up one hell of a fight against the Cowboys but had lost to a field goal in the fourth quarter.
It was taking everything I had to hold the mic steady. My first official day as a sports interviewer, and I was shaking so bad I thought I’d pass out. In my pocket were the standard interview questions, and any memorization I had done prior to the game flew from my mind.
Because taking his cue, Brad Johnson was coming my way. And as he stood there ready (obligated) to answer my questions, I blanked.
Totally fucking blanked.
Glancing around nervously, I found my husband in the stands, took a long look at his smile, thought about everything he’s done to get me here, and I ignored the paper in my pocket.
That was the moment I became the type of sports interviewer no one had ever seen before.
Or seen since.
When times were good, Eddie and I were big on FaceTime.
Text messaging took too long and both of us hated spell-check. Eddie cited fat fingers, and it drove me nuts Apple didn’t recognize my made-up words.
So, FaceTime it was.
I turned the feature on, hit call, and was delighted when he picked up.
“FaceTime, huh?” he grinned devilishly.
“Maybe I missed your face,” I teased.
“Or maybe you still hate to text.”
“Busted,” I smiled. “Anyway, just got word, the gang is meeting at Hop Cat for happy hour. Are we in?”
“Fuck yeah,” he grinned and my stomach dipped. “I’m loading up my TV, and I’ll be back to you in twenty.”
