My wife.
The woman I will not let go because I simply can’t.
They’re so close that—if I didn’t know better—I’d think they were fucking, and she was coming back for more. She considers whatever he says, brings him lunch sometimes, gives him long hugs, and looks up at him with those glimmering browns.
The thought alone drives me into a temporary state of jealousy sometimes. Then I remember that Kyson isn’t screwing my girl because she’s always too busy bothering me.
Although he is everything that I’m not so, in all honesty, it’d make sense if they did.
He’s fearless, honest, and generous. Three things that Emmy deserves and receives from my mellow-mouthed buddy, who has a severe soft spot for her.
And he doesn’t know we’re married.
No one is privy to it because my better half refuses to let everyone know.
Literally demanded we kept quiet.
Blue suddenly shifts off the couch, a devilish smile emerging off her features as she pointedly eyes Chuck sitting nonchalantly in his chair.
“Boys,” she beckons, moving forward to place a hand on both Marty’s and Mills’s backs. “Take five...outside.”
Marty grumbles something inaudible, smacking the top of Chuck’s head on the way out as Mills casually follows.
Once the door slams shut behind them, Blue takes a seat across from Chuck, leaning back languidly and pushing out her tits.
“Got any kids, Chuck?” she asks, fishing out her cell phone.
“No,” he deadpans, stealing a glance at her from underneath his lashes. And when he does, he doesn’t bother to ignore her, showing pure interest in the vixen in front of him.
Blue could talk a man into sucking his own dick if it meant being able to talk, sleep or kiss her. She has the sex appeal of a million women into one curvy body with the mindset of a man and the heart of a she-devil.
She doesn’t care if she hurts your feelings.
She doesn’t give a fuck about anniversaries or special dates, she just wants what she wants while continuing on her merry way whether she gets it or not.
And normally the latter doesn’t happen.
“Wanna do a line?” Out of the corner of my eye, Emmy’s chin snaps up, hinting that she’s going to be a pain in the ass yet again.
Kyson catches my eyes, and I jerk my head for him to go so that he can watch Marty and Mills while taking Emmy with him.
I mean…I thought it was definitely implied that I didn’t want her here.
So when he begins to leave without her, to make sure the two assholes outside aren’t starting to rip people out of their houses for answers, I almost throw the hardest thing I can find at the back of his head.
But I refrain.
If Marty gets into a mood, he’ll have his hands full, and with it, Mills won’t be far behind if someone fucks with him.
“Do you have any?” Chuck presses as I notice Em hasn’t taken her attention off the both of them.
“A little—” She tosses a credit card on the table followed by a small bag of white substance. “—important conversations need a slight push sometimes.”
“Are you fucking—” That coming from Emmy, but I cut her off by plopping ungracefully down next to her, purposely bumping into her little frame.
Propping my left arm over her head, I lean in, smelling her floral perfume, and to whisper in warning, “Shut up, little Em. You don’t know how to work these streets like we do.”
I feel her body cringe as she looks over at me, brown eyes narrowed in disgust at me or Chuck or both—no clue.
She lifts a finger to point at the soon-to-be coke-snorters in the room. “You’re seriously gonna let her—”
“Yep.” My right hand comes to land on the inside of her thigh, releasing a soft gasp from her full lips. “If she can get some shit out of him by snorting up some blow, I’m all for it.”
“But, Bish, that’s—”
“Shhh…” I let my fingers trail upward, attempting to loosen her up like I always used to do, but I haven’t touched her in months.
From time to time, I can’t help myself. I’m deathly attracted and slightly plagued with my wife.
An ordinary person would say that’s slightly normal.
A decent human being would give me some sort of advice to carry her close and work out our kinks.
But I’m a walking fiasco of closed-up feelings, pent-up anger, and a raging hard-on for the blonde at my side.
I’m a fucking nut job to put it bluntly.
And with Emmy being here, in my old home, where the memories flood in and drown me, I also need something to keep me grounded.
And the fucked up thing is she’s it right now.
“Tell me what you’re doing on that laptop, Princess.”
“Stop calling me that,” she half-ass snaps through a glare, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “It’s Em or Emmy. Emmy Lou, if you want to go—”
“You like to argue too much with me,” I retort flatly, studying her bottom lip way too intently. “And since you were so adamant on helping, what have you been doing?”
“Get away from me, and I’ll tell you.” She spits the words out like they’re going to do something.
I’m not Crackhead Chuck. I’m definitely not Kyson and his sweet-natured persona that plays out for her non-stop.
I’m her asshole husband who likes to piss her off to the point of blacked-out fury because make-up sex with her is off the charts.
Except that was before she and I blew up, and then I proceed to fuck it up with Blue.
“I’m comfortable right here,” I answer truthfully. Having Emmy pressed up against me and the side of the couch has my body responding to some bodily desire that I’m solely going to need to obtain on my own tonight. “Well?”
“Holy fuck!” Chuck suddenly slams his palm on the table, causing Emmy to jolt in surprise. The dumbass leans back in his chair, wiggling his nose, clearly just taking a line of whatever the hell Blue has. “Fuck, man, that’s good shit.”
“Wait until it
