“Goddamn,” she said, going limp a few moments later.
He braved a look at her, waiting for her to smack him and yell in his face.
“That was . . . There aren’t words, honey.” She smiled, and she was happy. Not just happy—kind of high-looking.
“You won’t take away my balls?”
She dripped again like she had before, and he was still inside her. Was that supposed to happen when she was completely full with him?
He jerked his tip up a few times, and more large squishy drops fell onto his feet.
His toes wiggled, and so did his happy cock.
He liked this. Oh, he liked it a lot. She was so ripe with sex water of her own making, she couldn’t help but leak it past his girth, it was that copious.
Nothing he’d read said this could happen.
“I have to tell you something,” he said, trailing off, taking her hands in his and kissing the backs of both of them while holding them tight.
“You came inside me,” she answered for him.
“Yeah, I did, but that’s not what I wanted to say . . . I know you’re smart enough to know I broke that promise. And I’m sorry about that, but you made me, kind of—well, you didn’t make me, but you—”
She kissed him, cutting off his lame excuses.
“I know you didn’t mean to. It happens. We’ll deal with it.” She was still smiling.
How was this possible? She was so good to him.
“I know I promised you I would tell you everything, but this thing I can’t tell you. Will that make you mad if I keep something from you?”
She blinked hard, stared at him, studying his eyes. Her expression gave nothing away.
“Would you rather I say the truth, or tell you what you want to hear?” She sat up straight and set her palms on his shoulder.
“I want you to say whatever your mouth wants you to. It’s all about being you, Mari. I don’t want that to ever change.” He settled his hands on her sweaty thighs. God, he liked it when she got so into sex that her legs were as hot and slick as his were, even though his hips were the ones pumping hard and trying to get him buried deeper inside her.
“I think you want to tell me, but you promised someone else you wouldn’t, so you’re torn with loyalty, and you’re placing this decision on me. And you know what?” Her lips twitched, and she smiled. “I’m not gonna do it. You’re a grown man. You decide what you think is best. I trust you. If you think it’s best I don’t know, then don’t tell me.”
He cleared his throat. “But you’ll want to know, won’t you?” His head swam with questions and a few tiny numbers, but they weren’t important.
“What do you think?” She pursed her lips.
He grabbed one of her hands and put it on his heart, covering it with his hand, holding it in place. “I know I die over the thought of keeping things from you, but this one is better not to know.”
“For you or for me? Who is it better for?” Her tone was soft, but her eyes were penetrating and a little harsh, angry at the corners.
“For all of us. The kids, you, me, the person whose secret it is to tell. I want to be a good man, but I—”
She ran a hand through his hair and then tugged at the nape. “Then keep it to yourself. If it hurts us to know, then don’t tell us, but it may hurt you worse to keep it to yourself.”
He nodded and carried her from the work bench to the door.
“My clothes,” she said, motioning her head to what he’d shredded off her and left on a pile on the floor.
“I like them there. They’ll remind me what I did to you and what you let me have.”
“And what was that?” Her smile was back.
“You left puddles of gooey lust all over my feet because I found a way to get inside you with my mind and body. You were connected to me, and without touching me with your hands, you still found a way to touch me with a part that was from within.” He rubbed noses with her.
“Well, damn, I’m some kind of mythical being then, because I had no idea I could do that. And here all I thought I was doing was willing my body not to ovulate at the drop of the first bit of come.”
He laughed. “Oh, Mari, Mari, Mari . . . Your body can’t resist me. It’s why we make babies so naturally and easily. It’s also why they turn out so gorgeous. It’s the laws of our natural attraction and the way it’s meant to be. You’re my wife, and your eggs obey my sperm. They tell it what to do, just like I do to you when I’m naked and in front of you.”
She laughed louder than she had a second ago. “When you’re naked? Uh . . . It happens anytime you have a longing to touch and be touched. That started the day I met you, and you’re the only one lucky enough that I allow to boss me around like that.”
“’Cause why?” He was leading again, like he did whenever she brought up the past.
“Because I loved you then, now and always.”
“And your eggs know it. We’ve probably made proof of that in your womb.” He grinned, and somehow, she did, too.
Gooey messes like these were the best. Every day should be pussy-gushing, gooey, dripping day.
Chapter 6
Adam tipped his hat at the woman at the door when she gave him an odd look.
Whatever was bothering her, he didn’t need to know. She was chewing gum, and that was a vile habit. He had issues with women chewing gum. It meant they would be making popping sounds, and it reminded him of the doors in the freezer cases at convenience stores.
She tapped her green polished nails on her desk, her eyes following him as he walked by.
All he carried with him was his laptop. That was it.
Was she expecting something more than that?
He took a deep breath, and Mari’s scent hit him.
She hugged him right after her shower, and now he smelled all fruity and yumalicious.
God, she always smelled like a meal to him. Something very yummy.
He gripped his laptop tighter and found his way to the area Thomas told him to go to.
“Oh, please, God,” Adam muttered to himself when he saw his sperm-donor of a father grinning at him.
“Glad you could make it,” Thomas said, making a space for Adam.
“You’re leaving when I perform,” Adam reminded him.
Thomas nodded and backed off in such a way that it almost reminded Adam of how loyal subjects back away, bowing as they left their presence.
“I don’t need that much space. It’s only a laptop and me.” Adam began setting up, making sure his cords were ready to go.
Everything looked good. The area was clean and well organized.
The only thing that was off was the man breathing next to him, hovering.
“Why are you here?” He turned to Thomas. “I want to know what this means to you.”
“I’m here to support you and your true passion. I know you like medicine, but—”
Adam’s nostrils flared, and his eyes turned to slits. “I’m happy with medicine. I help people. I fix things. Music is for fun. It’s not meant to provide for my family, because it’s too damn unpredictable like you.” His chest burned on his exhale. “I like my family knowing they can depend on me.”
“I know you do. I respect that. I’m not trying to take that away from you, but your talent deserves to be recognized, and I can see the joy in your eyes when you’re involved with your music. Is it so wrong for a father to want to see his son grow and have a fulfilling life doing what they enjoy most? That’s all I want for you—happiness.” Thomas’s eyes softened. He coughed a little into his right inner elbow, then straightened.
“You wanna know what makes me happy? A peaceful night with my family, my wife in my arms and a cold soda nearby.” Adam’s voice shook.
“I can make sure you have those things all the time. This is just for your soul—it rejuvenates you.”
Adam snorted. “My soul is a ball of energy—nothing you can ever understand. It’s what you tried to drug out of me.”
>
“Not true!” Thomas’s eyes almost went box shaped when they opened sharply. “I never got to explain to you, and I—”
“You think I wanna hear your excuses?”
“Your wife does.” Thomas rested his right thigh up against the table.
That small act seemed too defiant for Adam’s liking. “If she wants to know, then tell her, but I don’t need that information. There’s never a good reason to give children illegal drugs. Ever.”
“It’s all about bala—”
“Thomas, you have no idea what that means, as evidenced by you having Mom call me yesterday and talk about you—ruining my day. So, I’m only going to say this once—if you don’t leave now, I’m walking out of here. I need to focus, and you’re making me near ready to vomit up numbers in massive amounts.” Adam flipped open his laptop and started it up.
Thomas leaned in and whispered, “I saved your life. You just don’t know it yet.”
He walked away before he was even done spewing those atrocious words into the air.
All Adam could do was yell at the woman that roamed by that obviously worked here, “I need a Coke, right now. Cold, but no ice.”
She gave him a nasty look and walked away, but it was clear she was going to do it.
He removed his hat and set it aside. In this moment, he needed to see everything as clearly as possible.
He was the talent. He was on the stage, and it was almost his turn to shine.
Only . . . The numbers were really tight on his vision right now.
It was hard to see. Almost like right after he tried to look straight at the sun one time.
Cones and rods were hideous.
No one liked those shapes. Too sharp and not fun. Stabby like mean weapons.
He rubbed his temples for a second, then went back to setting everything up.
His lineup was good. It started out a little softer, romantic even, but then the last few songs were harder hitting.
Zach liked to say they stank like a hooker’s bed.
Adam never liked that image, but Zach said that meant it was beyond good.
His fingers clicked on the keyboard, he synced into the system and then sat back, waiting for his cue to start.
The woman he barked his soda demands at, appeared before him with two large sodas in hand.
“Here ya go,” she said, looking him over like he was clearly in the wrong club.
“Thanks. I need this.” Adam chugged the first one so quick, his throat was on fire from the fizz that had rocketed down his throat.
Perfect. Now he’d be croaking at the audience if he chose to say anything at all at this point.
“What kind of DJ are you?” she asked, her long black hair waving as she shifted toward his laptop.
“The good kind. The kind that knows good music.” He stared at her so hard, she backed away. “What kind of club is this?”
“It used to be a biker club, but the clients have changed. Now it’s more of the indie rock persuasion. But we get a mix depending on what’s going on downtown.” She shrugged and set her palm on the table next to his computer.
He eyed her black fingernails. Reminded him of Samara, before she . . .
“Can you move a little further back? My laptop’s kind of sensitive,” he told her.
She gave him an are you kidding? look, then groaned and pushed away from him, leaving him a moment later.
Okay, so she didn’t understand rhetorical questions, and he wasn’t sure he understood this crowd, but he had an eclectic mix of everything, so he was certain he could find something to please these people.
He sipped his soda, waited and then that same dark-haired lady that just acted like he was as annoying as sticky, dried-on soda on the floor got on top of a table and waved her arms, whistling like she was at a ball game.
“Hey, stupid-ass people—I own this place, and I own you for tonight. Don’t forget—you’re here to listen to cutting edge stuff, right?” she hollered.
“Yeah!” the crowd yelled back.
“Well, this man thinks he knows what you like.” She pointed at Adam and hopped back down. “Give him hell!”
She disappeared in the crowd.
Adam sank that other soda down his throat so fast he thought he might feel it in his toes in a minute or two.
He stood there, staring at blank faces. “I don’t care what you like. I’m just playing my music.”
Someone cheered. “Fuck, yeah!”
Adam grinned. “If you don’t like it, blame the black-haired owner. She let me up here and fed me soda.”
A few more people chuckled, and the background music died off.
That was it. It was his cue.
He pressed the button, and his first song came on. “Demon in a box,” he yelled.
Then the song echoed that title, and the lyrics morphed into a vivid description of him taking his hands and putting them all over his woman. How she turned him into a demon.
It was a slow, haunting melody. It shifted into something darker, more pleasurable at the end, and before he knew it people were gyrating around on the dance floor, making out, and the air was electric with sex and booze.
His insides lit on fire. He wished his hands were on Mari right now. But that had to wait.
God, the air was thick with carnal desires.
More. He had to have more of this lightning in the room.
So, he cued up the next song, letting it blend into his demon tribute to his soul.
This one was a little faster, but still sensual and slow enough to really rub up on someone.
“What’s this one called?” someone out on the dance floor called out.
“Stains on the sheets,” Adam said, sitting back and watching it take hold.
They could decide what that would mean to them.
He knew exactly what it was about . . .
It meant the moment that he lost his virginity to his wife, it wasn’t her who bled, even if she had been a virgin and could’ve done that, but him. He bled that night because he gave her everything that flowed in his body when he came inside her. He gave her all that it meant to him to be a man and to love her fiercely.
That’s why he was turned into a man.
And that’s why he kept muttering it now over and over under his breath, “I’m a man. I’m a man. No one knows me here, but I’m a man.”
He played seven more songs, the room heating up to a spectacular degree as people danced and drank even harder.
It seemed they liked everything he shared with them.
He sweated, danced a little himself and smiled harder than he could ever remember while being away from Mari.
When he ran out of songs, the crowd complained.
The owner, however, did not.
She tried to hug him, but Adam held up a stiff arm.
“I don’t take that kind of payment. I’m married.” He flashed his ring in her face. “And I write most of those songs about my wife.”
“I get it, I get it.” The dark-haired woman shoved her hair behind her ears. “Will cash work, then?”
“Yeah.” Adam swallowed, and his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.
“How’s a thousand sound?”
“A thousand?” His ears damn near rang.
“Yeah. You tripled our business tonight. They’ve all heard of you and seen your stuff on YouTube. People have been buzzing about this for a week.” The woman put her hand out with the cash and her business card. “I knew what kind of DJ you were—I was only messin’ with you earlier. I wanted to see what you’d say and do—if you’re the diva type. You’re kind of more the odd type, but whatever. It was worth having you here, and the crowd obviously ate your shit up.”
Adam’s eyes went wide and then were drawn to the exit where Thomas stood staring. “Nobody eats shit. That’s unhealthy and disgusting. Plus, it would taste really foul.” She laughed, and he could tell she was about to explain so he said, “But I get what you mean.”
&
nbsp; “You were good. Real good,” she said. “I was receiving compliments about you all night.”
He couldn’t help but glare at the older-looking version of himself. “Good to hear.”
Adam took the money, thanked her and disappeared out the back door with her help.
When he drove home, his chant went from, “I’m a man,” to, “He’s not a man. Monster. He’s a monster.”
He arrived home, put his laptop safely away and his hat, too. Moments later, he got in bed naked and proceeded to touch his wife until she was moaning his name.
“Tell me what I know,” he said right at the end, right before he let her feel it flood over her.
“You’re my man, and I love you.”
“I am a man, though.” His chest heated and his heart yanked toward her. Toward her ragged breathing of his whispered name, almost hidden from him.
“You are the best man,” she said, curling into his touch.
“I love you, too, and I played my heart out for you. Could you feel it here back at home?” He nuzzled the side of her cheek, then bit her there and rubbed her wet folds, holding her right there on the edge with one of his long fingers inside and one at that nub he knew so well. Her clit was soaked right now, and so was he—soaked with the urgent desire to hear her say it.
“You’re a man,” she said, arching a little more off the bed.
“I am. What else?” He bit again, holding his teeth tight as she mewed and whimpered.
“I could feel you every second, because I knew you were thinking about me. I was thinking about you, too—that’s how I knew.” She gripped his arm.
“Oh yes. Thank God,” he said, then rubbed her into a frenzy.
He let her slide down that ride that turned her into the animal he knew so well—the one that was all feeling and ravenous for him.
When she was done with her orgasm, she was on top of him, kissing him everywhere, stroking, but he wouldn’t let her bring him release.
Not tonight.
He didn’t deserve it.
He wasn’t the man she thought he was.
He hated, and Thomas was the name of that hate.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She sank down on top of him, studying his face.
“Nothing that can be fixed.” He kissed her and pulled her down to him, cuddling her into a coma on his chest. “Nothing that you can help with either.” His words died in the air as he closed his eyes, settled down and fell asleep.
Harkham's Corner (Harkham's Series Book 3) Page 8
