“Uh, if you could not mention your father when you’re about to suck me off, that would be great.”
“Sorry,” she says sweetly, so sweet that it borders on sarcastic. Makes me want to flip her over and spank her ass a few times.
But she has other plans, leaving hot, wet kisses down the middle of my abs, lower and lower. I’m already tense, hard as fucking cement. She disappears under the covers and I quickly lift them up, not wanting to miss a single second of this show. It’s not that we don’t have a healthy sex life for a married couple, but it’s also not every day that she wakes me up with a blow job.
I watch as she slides her fist down my shaft, her eyes glued to mine. Her mouth parts, and she licks the rim of her bottom lip.
Dex, you lucky piece of shit.
I don’t know what I did to deserve this woman, but she’s here, she’s slipping the swollen tip of my dick between her lips, and I completely surrender to her.
I always have.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, my voice already ragged as she sucks at me, her tongue swirling around until I can no longer hold eye contact. My head flops back against the pillow and I’m not ashamed to admit I’m not going to last that long. My wife has skills that run deep, and she plays it fast and furious.
My eyes roll back in my head, tension threading through me, coiling in my stomach. Instinctively I reach for her hair, wrapping my fingers around her strands, tugging hard. She brings me in deeper, her fingers working my balls, doing everything as only she knows how.
“Christ, Perry,” I grunt, yanking at her hair, wanting nothing more than to come. “You’re asking for trouble if you keep that going.”
I feel her mouth widen into a smile before her fist grips me harder, tighter, moving faster. The pressure inside me builds until the dam is unleashed.
I groan loudly, the sound thunderous in the bedroom, heat snaking down my spine until I feel ripped apart. I come inside her throat, my hips bucking up against her mouth, hands tangled in her hair.
Fucking fuck.
I’m left gasping on the bed, my limbs weightless, my soul circling around for a moment before it returns.
“You,” I manage to say, my voice hoarse. I lift my head and gaze at Perry, who looks extremely satisfied with herself. She wipes her lips slowly, her chin wet, and I know if I hadn’t just come so fucking hard I’d be turned on all over again. “You have a fucking gift, you know that?”
Her brows raise, cheeks flushed against her pale skin. “Seems I do.”
“I wouldn’t mind waking up like that every day for the next three years, just saying.”
She laughs as she sits up, smacking my chest playfully. “Don’t be greedy, Dex.” She moves to the edge of the bed.
“Where are you going?” I make a grab for her, but she’s quick.
“To get ready,” she says, stepping out of my grasp. “I don’t want to rush us, but I told my father we’d be there by three and I’ve got some work I need to do before then.”
She goes to the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and I sigh, collapsing back into the bed.
So, today is our wedding anniversary. Three years. Not a huge number, and apparently not a big deal when it comes to the gold, silver, bronze—whatever other Olympic medals there are for surviving marriage. But still, every year is special and poignant and for whatever reason, Perry decided we should celebrate with her father and sister.
I mean, I get it. Even though Perry said she’s been stepping forward after her mother’s death, the family has had a lot of setbacks and she needs to be with them often, propelled by guilt. Her father still hasn’t dated anyone, and tends to keep to himself. She’s often mentioned that he seems to have lost his faith, which isn’t great for a theology professor.
Then there’s her nineteen-year old sister, Ada, who, in the last year, has discovered she has a lot of the same abilities as Perry, enough so that she has her very own guardian douchebag. She also went to Hell to rescue their mother. Literal Hell. Ever since then, well, she’s grown up extremely fast, and even though she’s in Instagram college or something, seeing ghosts and demons has been a bit of a struggle for her.
And Perry, well…she puts on a sunny face, but since her thoughts sometimes leak out to me, never mind her emotions, I know that things are hard. She says she’s been happier since she put the show behind her, and I think she’s right about that. But I know she still carries a lot of fear with her.
Because the thing is, losing your mother isn’t something you just grow out of.
I should know.
And neither is seeing ghosts.
Or having the ability to read minds.
Or creating portals to another dimension out of thin air.
I know Perry still sees things she pretends not to see. I can’t blame her for acting like she doesn’t. Fuck, that’s how I operated for most of my life. Her solution, the way she’s adapted to try and be normal, to just survive, is to look the other way and pretend it’s not happening.
I should understand this. But deep down, in my gut, it worries me.
These things, this other world…it wants you to look at it.
And I’m afraid that it will get angrier the more we ignore it.
There’re so few who are able to do what we do. People say they want to explore the unknown, to stare into the abyss and have that fucking abyss stare right back at you.
In reality though, they’ll always turn and run away with their tail between their legs. Very few people have the stomach to face the things that scare them.
That’s one reason why I think taking up Mr. Cox on
