To Be Your Wife

by Rae Kennedy

  * * *

  We make love—I mean, fuck each other’s brains out—three more times through the day, never leaving bed, napping between rounds.

  My head is nestled on Tuck’s naked chest, my leg hooked over his hip. His arm is firm around my waist, the sheets tangled somewhere near our feet.

  “We should probably get ready for dinner soon. Don’t want to miss our reservation.”

  I look up, resting my chin on his chest as I glance at the time. “It’s still early. Is the reservation for four in the afternoon? I mean, I know I joke that you’re old but...”

  “You’re hilarious. No, the reservation isn’t at four. But we have to drive into the city.”

  “Oh, look at you, all fancy,” I say as an idea pops into my head. “Can I drive?”

  “All right. But I get to pick the music.”

  “Deal.”

  * * *

  It was a bad deal.

  It’s not so much Tuck’s song choices that are bad—it’s the way he insists on serenading me with each one. Loudly. Completely off-key. For an hour. Add to that, he doesn’t know half the lyrics.

  “Maybe we should have a little quiet time,” I say as I discreetly turn the volume down. And then off.

  “Is that your teacher voice? It’s cute. Kinda sexy, actually.”

  “It’s not sexy. It’s serious. Authoritative.”

  “Authoritative is sexy.”

  I sigh in exasperation, but I can’t hide my smile.

  We leave the music off and talk the rest of the drive.

  “When did you decide you wanted to be a teacher?” he asks once we are seated at our table in the restaurant.

  “Hmm...I guess senior year of high school. The thought of graduating and moving on made me realize how important and influential my teachers and coaches had been. In elementary school, one girl decided she didn’t like me, and the rest of the class went along with it. I spent many recesses either talking with the teacher on duty in the yard or I’d just stay in the classroom with my teacher. Mrs. King was my favorite teacher. She always let me help her with projects during lunch. Of course, then I was called a teacher’s pet and further ostracized. When Wes moved to town in third grade, he was my first real friend. And that was probably because he was new and didn’t know any better.” I’m grateful Tuck doesn’t seem bothered by my mention of Wes.

  Tuck takes my hand across the tiny table. He’s wearing a charcoal gray dress shirt with the top button undone. My dress is black with a neckline low enough I can’t wear a bra with it. But because I don’t have any cleavage to spill out, it still looks sophisticated. And the little heart-shaped diamond of my necklace is displayed perfectly in the center of my bare chest.

  The restaurant is beautiful. The wall to the street is all windows trimmed with intricate black iron filigree. The rest of the walls are antique brick that glow in the low light cast from hundreds of single droplet bulbs that appear to float from the ceiling like a magical night sky.

  The servers are dressed in black, hair all slicked back, moving stealthily between tables. I try not to balk when I realize Tuck has ordered a one-hundred-dollar bottle of wine.

  “This place is really...wow.”

  He nods. “Wait until you try the food—that’s what’s earning this place all the buzz. Not that I’m surprised. Cade’s amazing.”

  This is Cade’s restaurant?

  “Speak of the devil!” Tuck stands up as Cade walks up to our table. He’s in an all-white chef’s uniform, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The black tattoos on his arms are a stark contrast to the crisp, clean, white smock.

  “You remember Court?”

  “Of course.” Cade shakes my hand and flashes his bright white smile. “Have you guys ordered yet?”

  “No, what do you recommend?”

  “Hmm...either the rosemary cedar-planked halibut with caper lemon sauce and broccolini or the marsala-braised beef short ribs with creamy mushroom risotto.”

  My mouth is watering and while I don’t regret spending all day in bed with Tuck, I do regret at least not grabbing a snack.

  “Yes to all of that.”

  My stomach growls.

  Tuck chuckles.

  Cade waves a server over. “Will you bring an order of calamari and crab cakes to this table right away, please? On me.”

  “Of course, Chef,” he says and hurries away.

  Tuck’s phone vibrates on the table and he glances down at it. His jaw tightens, ticcing a couple of times before he picks it up.

  “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s the big boss.” He excuses himself and walks toward the front of the restaurant.

  Cade sits in Tuck’s vacated seat. “How’s Haley doing?” he asks in a low voice.

  “She’s good. She’s about to start summer school, but she’s excited because she’s taking photography classes. She’s been studying photography since she got a camera for Christmas. She carries it around with here everywhere—sorry. I’m babbling.”

  “No,” he absentmindedly rubs his wrist with his right thumb. “That’s awesome. Have you seen any of her pictures?”

  “Yeah, they’re fantastic.”

  He smiles big, but there’s a sadness in his eyes. “I’m glad she’s well.”

  The server returns with two platters of golden fried calamari and giant lump crab cakes. The food is steaming hot and smells like the sea. There are three different kinds of dipping sauces and fresh lemons to squeeze over the salty, fried goodness.

  The sound I make when I take the first bite is borderline orgasmic. I’m almost embarrassed Cade is sitting there watching me. Almost.

  “Oh my god, this is fucking fantastic. Seriously, Cade. So good. Do you think Tuck would notice if I ate all of it?”

  He laughs, standing as Tuck comes back to the table. Cade wishes us a nice night and whispers something in Tuck’s ear before he sits down.

  “I plan on it,” Tuck replies, glancing in my direction.

  * * *

  I let my hair down and remove my makeup as Tuck steps out of the shower. He walks up behind me, his hands gentle on my skin. He smells clean and woodsy. His hair is damp and it tickles my cheek as he kisses my neck.

  “Unzip me?”

  He undoes the zipper, his warm fingertips brushing my back. I turn to face him and take a deep breath.

  He watches silently as I pull down each strap, letting the dress fall to the floor so I am standing in front of him in nothing but my tiny thong.

  “Beautiful,” he whispers.

  He steps toward me, cradles his hands around my face and kisses me hard. His touch falls to my shoulders, rubbing down my arms, across my stomach and up to my bare breasts.

  He takes my bottom lip in his teeth as he massages me, making my nipples tingle and ache. He’s touching me gently but his kiss is becoming frantic.

  “Can I kiss them?” he asks, breathing heavily.

  “Yes.”

  He kneels, kissing the top slope of my breast, slow, soft. He kisses down, pressing his warm tongue to the sensitive tip. It makes me shiver.

  He licks it again, faster, kissing it open-mouthed. Then he sucks on it, gently at first. He looks up at me, meeting my eyes as to make sure everything he’s doing is okay.

  Everything he does is more than okay. It’s heaven. Perfect. The way he makes me feel and open up to him is amazing and new. I’ve given him more of myself than I’ve offered anyone, and still, I would give him more.

  I grip my fingers in his hair and moan as he sucks harder. Warmth ripples through my body, the throb between my legs increasing and I wish he could put his mouth on every part of me at once.

  He keeps pulling and sucking, his need increasing. When he releases it, my nipple is elongated and red, the skin around it pink and heated. He starts on the other breast and I push my thong down so I can touch my clit, which is pulsing painfully. But he wraps his arms around my waist before I can get some relief and picks me up, carrying me to the bed.


  He’s still devouring my sensitive mounds as he lays me down. I’m surprised by his cock at my entrance and I’m so slippery for him that his thick tip sinks inside me with a single thrust of his hips.

  I cry out for him, clawing at his back, pulling him up to me. His lips are puffy and wet as they crash to mine. I am consumed with him, his heat, his scent, the wonderful weight of his body on mine, his hands in my hair, and the way he stretches me when he thrusts inside me fully.

  I love the way our skin slides as we start to sweat. I love how he kisses me like he is starving and fucks me like it is the only thing he has ever wanted or will ever want again.

  My heart is pounding. I can’t get enough air. Every plunge of his cock knocks it out of my lungs. I can’t feel my toes. My lips are swollen and numb. He nips at my lip.

  “Yes...harder,” I urge him. He bites down and I shove my hips toward him, coaxing him deeper. It tightens inside me and, “Oh, Tuck...oh, fuck, Tuck, stop.”

  He stills instantly. “What?” His face is strained. His body tenses as he actively restrains himself from thrusting into me.

  My voice is shaky. “I’m not on the pill right now.”

  “Shit.” He pulls out of me.

  “You didn’t come, right?”

  “No.”

  His erection is massive between his legs, dark and wet. I lick my lips.

  “But you were about to?”

  He nods. Then he reaches toward the nightstand but I stop him.

  “I want you to come in my mouth. But only after I come in yours,” I tell him, in my most authoritative voice. His cock jerks.

  “Yes ma’am,” he says, his voice hoarse.

  We lay belly to belly, my mouth to his cock. I lick him in slow, long strokes, tasting myself on him. He holds my hips to his face and eats me out thoroughly from behind, from my clit to my ass, penetrating with his tongue and fingers, sucking and fucking until I come. Then I take him fully in my mouth and he releases too.

  CHAPTER 19

  Sunday afternoon:

  Tuck: I miss you already

  Me: I left your house five minutes ago

  Tuck: Too long

  Sunday night:

  Me: It’s probably a good thing I won’t see you for a week. I’m already so sore

  Tuck: Did I hurt you?

  Me: No, you just gave it as hard as I like it

  Tuck: Fuck, you might be too much for me

  Monday morning:

  “Hi,” I yawn into my phone. “What time is it?”

  “Almost five. I’m about to go for a run. I just wanted to say good morning.”

  “Good morning, Tuck. I’m glad you’re still running.”

  “I’ve got to keep up the cardio so I can be ready for you this weekend.”

  Monday afternoon:

  Me: I can still feel you inside me

  Tuck: Still sore?

  Me: In the best way

  Tuck: You’re giving me a boner at work

  Monday night:

  “Gracie’s graduation is Saturday. I’ll to need stay home this weekend.”

  “Okay. Can I come to you?”

  How does he make me smile so big it hurts?

  “Yes. We’re having a big barbeque on Sunday. But I’m warning you now—there will be a lot of family there.”

  “I’m up for it. It’s perfect, actually. Haley and I were thinking about visiting our grandma on Saturday.”

  “So I’ll see you Sunday.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  Tuesday Morning:

  “Morning, Gorgeous.” Tuck’s voice is extra deep when he’s still sleepy.

  “Morning, babe.”

  “I don’t want to go to work today. Want to run away with me?”

  “Yeah, where are we going?”

  “Literally anywhere with you and I’ll be happy.”

  Tuesday afternoon:

  Tuck: Meetings all day and I just noticed I have a poppyseed stuck in my teeth from my bagel this morning. That’s how my day is going, how’s yours?

  Me: Helped fix some fence this morning, now Gracie and I are going grocery shopping. I’m going to help make dinner tonight so maybe next time I cook for you it won’t be such a disaster.

  Tuck: I don’t remember it being that bad

  Me: That’s because we ordered Chinese afterward

  Tuck: True

  Tuesday night:

  Tuck: How did dinner turn out?

  Me: Well, the salad I made was good

  Tuck: I like salad

  Me: Good, that might be all I can do

  Tuck: Who said you have to cook anyway? I’ll cook for us

  Me: We’re doomed

  Wednesday morning:

  “Hi babe.” My voice cracks with sleep.

  “Hearing your voice is the best part of my day.”

  “Even when I sound like Kermit the Frog?”

  “Especially then.”

  Wednesday night:

  “How have you been sleeping?” Tuck asks.

  “Really well, actually.” I hadn’t even thought about it. I glance at the pillow next to me. “I just snuggle with Pillow-Tuck all night and I don’t wake up until you call.”

  “Now you have me jealous of a pillow.”

  “You shouldn’t be. Pillow-Tuck’s mouth doesn’t feel nearly as good against my pussy as yours.”

  “Fuck, Court. You’re making me so hard.”

  “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

  He hums. “Tell me what you want me to do about it.”

  “You like that, don’t you? When I tell you what to do?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “I want you to stroke your cock. Do it nice and slow.”

  He grunts into the phone.

  “Are you touching it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pretend it’s me touching you.”

  “Oh, wow, your hands got really big.”

  “Tuck!”

  “Sorry.” He chuckles.

  “Go get some lotion,” I say sternly.

  He stops laughing. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I take off my sleep shorts and underwear, slinking under my silky covers.

  “Are you still hard?” I ask when he gets back to the phone.

  “Fuck yes.”

  “Good, because I’m already wet for you.”

  “Really? What do you feel like?”

  “Hot and slippery. I’m swollen and achy for you.”

  “Fuck.” He breathes hard.

  “Rub yourself with the lotion,” I say.

  “Okay.”

  “Is it nice and slick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Imagine I’m sinking onto you.”

  “Mmm.” His breath is shaky.

  “Not too fast. I’ve got to come too.”

  “I love taking care of you, Court. If I was there I’d be between your legs—eating that pretty pussy of yours.”

  I whimper as I rock against my hand.

  “I’d be licking and sucking on your clit.”

  “How do I taste?”

  “So fucking sweet. I’d slip a finger inside you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Then a second one. You have two fingers inside you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go as deep as you can.”

  I do. We are both moaning, his breaths are heavy and erratic. I’m glad my family is out for the evening.

  “Are you close? I’m about to come.”

  His response comes out as jerky gurgles. My pleasure bursts and everything else is blurry. I can almost smell him, feel him. And I wish he was here.

  “It’s not the same without you,” I say.

  “I know. I need my cuddles.”

  I sigh. “At least I’ve got Pillow-Tuck.”

  “That fucking pillow.”

  Thursday morning:

  “I like your dedication. Getting up at five even when I’m not there is impressive,” I say.

  “
I like being the first person you talk to in the morning. And I like that you’re mine, too. I’m going back to sleep after this.”

  “I wish you could see me rolling my eyes at you.”

  Thursday afternoon:

  Tuck: What are you up to?

  Me: I’m on my way to a doctor’s appointment

  Tuck: Is everything okay?

  Me: Yep. Just need to get a prescription renewed.

  Thursday night:

  Me: Wish you were here.

  Me: Or that I was there.

  Me: Either, really.

  Tuck: Me too.

  Friday afternoon:

  Tuck: Thinking about you

  Me: Same

  * * *

  Fluffy white clouds dot the light blue sky. Mom and I walk out to the backyard, carrying bowls and buns to where the picnic tables are set up. The sun is warm on my shoulders and the smell of charred burgers and hotdogs carries on the warm breeze. The checkered tablecloths flap in the wind and my blonde hair whips in my face.

  My dad and Uncle Mick are standing around the massive grill, drinking beer and deep in conversation. They take turns flipping and poking the meat before resuming their discussion, presumably about the economy or the price of gas—either way, something I’d rather not be in the middle of.

  Gracie and her best friend, Kyla, are kneeling by the hose spigot, filling up water balloons.

  The backdoor hinges squeak behind me and the flimsy screen door slams shut. Kyla looks over, turns to Gracie and asks, “Who’s that?”

  I look over my shoulder—Tuck is stepping off the back patio toward us. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and a red T-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and thick biceps. I almost drop both packages of thirty-two hotdog buns and twenty-four hamburger buns as I race for him. His long strides close the distance between us quickly. He scoops me up by the waist and kisses me full on the mouth. He tastes like sunshine and peppermint and I don’t care that my whole family is probably watching us.

  He sets me down, taking the slipping bag of hotdog buns and smiles at me wide with both dimples and I can’t fathom there was a time when I ever denied this man.

  He glances past me. “Oh, Bev!” He takes a quick step toward my mom, reaching for the large bowls in her arms. “Here, let me help with those.”

  She hands him the bowls and we walk to the food table.

  “Is this homemade potato salad?” Tuck asks. “Potato salad is my favorite. This looks delicious.”