Читать книгу I Want It Now - Sydney Molare - Страница 11

I changed into some shorts before heading toward the kitchen. Dubois had set out on his exploration after helping Stacy bring in her bags. While I defrosted chicken, I checked my messages. Two from my parents, one from my brother, and the last from Michael, a man whom I never hoped to see ever again. His message was typical of the men I’d dated: Hey, if you aren’t busy, let’s “hook up.” Well, I’m busy whenever you call from here on out, buster.

A giggle made me turn around. Stacy leaned against the door, a hand over her mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

“The fact that you suddenly have a husband nobody ever heard you mention, yet the man you have been dating and even brought to the family reunion is still leaving messages. That tells me a couple of things: one, you broke up with Michael but the breakup is so fresh, he still thinks he has a chance and has no idea you’ve really moved on.” I felt the redness creeping up my neck. “And two, Dubois must be hella good in bed since you married him so fast.”

I turned away from her, opened the microwave, and poked at the defrosting bird. “You are not as smart as you think you are,” I responded over my shoulder.

“Really?” A perfectly arched eyebrow rose. “What part did I get wrong? I mean, Mom keeps me up on everything, and not once has she mentioned this Adonis with a British accent and you. So I’m definitely thinking she has no clue…or rather, had no clue.”

I swung around then. “Tell me you didn’t tell Mom and Dad.” Stacy gave me a noncommittal shrug. Blood swooshed through my brain. I wasn’t ashamed at what I’d done, but like everything in life, it was about timing. My own timing to keep and reveal my secrets as I wanted. The fact that Stacy had possibly preempted me had me seeing red. I moved closer to her. Stacy moved backward, eyes looking at my hand. The skewer I’d poked at the chicken with pointed straight ahead. I dropped it and got into her face.

“I want you to hear me and hear me well. My business is my business. Despite what you believe, I will live my life like I want, whether it meets with your, the rest of the family, friends, or the world’s standards, understand?”

Stacy eyes were wide, but suddenly they narrowed and she burst out laughing. “Girl, that must have been some kind of sex to make your uptight ass get some backbone.”

Her statement infuriated me further. I grabbed her upper arm. “I don’t need hellified sex to give me courage. I just need you to understand that this is my life and I’ll live it however I want, regardless of your opinion.”

Stacy didn’t back down. “You’re just bluffing. Something’s up and I plan to find out why you would hide this dude away, no mention of him at all to your family, and suddenly, you’re married.” Her eyes drifted down to my belly. “Pregnant?”

The urge to slap her was great. “If I am, that’s none of your concern.”

“So I’m right! You are pregnant.” She moved until our noses almost touched. “How could you be so…old…and stupid?”

“You mean-spirited little heffa!” Stacy and I definitely have had our share of catfights. When I was still at home, she took great pleasure in parading around half naked, tempting my boyfriends. Truth be told, I suspect she actually did get with one or two of them because I’d found their numbers on her cell phone. I left them alone after that. But that was then. I wasn’t letting her get away with jack now! “I will—”

“Wow! I could hear the yelling out in the portico,” Dubois said as he strolled into the kitchen.

I released Stacy’s arm and she rolled her eyes before placing a smile on her face and turning. “We were just chitchatting about some…things. You know, like sisters do.”

“Yes. You were going at it like my sisters do all the time.” Dubois stared into my face, a face I’d not managed to remove the scowl from. He gave me a smile. I gave him a halfhearted, lopsided one in return. He nodded before looking back at Stacy. “So, Stacy, how long will you be staying?”

Stacy’s smile grew larger, feeling secure that whatever she wanted, she’d get. “Oh, I’m in the middle of a move and thought I’d spend a week”—she looked over her shoulder at me—“or two with Dina and my parents. Catch up and all.”

Dubois nodded again. “No husband waiting for you anywhere?” He walked over and stood behind me.

“None.” I could see Stacy’s lips curling at the edge as they always did whenever she was about to smirk.

“Your parents live nearby?”

“Yes. They live across the county.”

“Did you grow up in a large house?”

My parents were both schoolteachers and so we were definitely brought up firmly entrenched in the middle class—nice home, regular new cars, no hand-me-downs for their kids. Image, after all, was important. As my father always told us, we were a reflection of them, and they wanted the world to believe they could give us a pretty good life. Stacy was their princess child. Spoiled rotten.

“Yes, a four-bedroom, three-bath ranch. There was plenty of room for us.”

Dubois hugged me to his chest, placing a light kiss on my neck. “That’s good.” His eyes shifted back to Stacy. “Stacy, I think it would be a better idea if you stayed with your parents. Dina and I forgot you were to visit, but since we just got married, I would really appreciate if you would visit us another time—after the honeymoon. Then we would be able to give you excellent hospitality. Right now, we are focusing on…us.”

I would have lost a second paycheck if someone had a camera at that moment. Stacy’s eyes bucked, her face fell, and her mouth opened in astonishment. “You…you want me to leave?”

Dubois nodded. “I think it would be best, considering this is our honeymoon.”

“B—but—”

“I’ll be happy to help you get your bags back in the car.” Dubois’s tongue snaked out of his mouth and he licked my lips. “Sweetie, it won’t take me but just a moment. Perhaps while I’m helping Stacy, you can give your parents a call and let them know when we’ll visit them?”

I quickly jumped into my role. “Sure. Saturday or Sunday, you think?” Of course, I added a flashing smile for my gorgeous man—and to irritate Stacy.

“Either sounds splendid.” He then turned and said, “Let’s get those bags!” He placed his arm around Stacy’s shoulders and guided her out of the kitchen and toward the stairwell.

When they were out of sight, I clutched my stomach and sank into a chair. Stacy had her faults, but she was right on the money about this: Dubois was a hell of a man!

My parents didn’t answer, probably because it was during their favorite soap opera’s daily episode, so I left a message. I could hear Dubois carrying on a one-sided conversation as he rounded up Stacy’s things and knew the lack of chatter from her meant she was past pissed. I smiled brightly.

I was seasoning the chicken as Dubois brought Stacy’s bags back downstairs. In seconds, an engine started and the tires squealed as she pulled out into the road. Wonderful!

I headed out to the grill with the chicken, thinking about potential scenarios that would occur once Stacy told my parents. I sighed, knowing life would work out one way or the other. Just as I sat the meat on the patio table, I heard a rustle in the shrubbery beside me. Looking down, I saw one of my biggest fears: a snake. It didn’t matter how long I’d lived in the country, I never, ever would be a fan of reptiles, so I did what I always did whenever I saw one: jumped sky high and screamed!

The snake moved, in my mind curling up to strike, and I tripped over a chair as I ran toward the house. Dubois met me running full tilt. “What’s happened?”

I jumped on him and wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist. “A snake! There’s a snake on the patio!” I blubbered as I squeezed his neck tighter. Dubois took a few steps toward the open patio door. “No! Didn’t you hear me? There’s a snake on the patio!” His eardrum should have burst wide open.

“I heard you. The door is open. Let me close it.”

I held on like an eight-armed monkey, trembling as he walked to the door and slid it closed. “Aye, I see it.” I clutched him tighter. “It’s just a king snake. They are harmless. We have them on the island. In fact, I had a snake as a pet.”

I leaned away from him and stared. In my world, normal people didn’t own snakes. “You did?”

“Yes.” He rubbed my back. “It was a big draw for the girls.”

I bopped his shoulder and laughed. “Men.”

“Well, I am honest.” He kissed me. “Let me get rid of the snake, place the chicken on the pit, and then, how about we”—his finger traced my lips—“we try out your favorite place? It will relieve some of the tension I feel in your body.” His hand roamed down my back to cup my hips. I felt his cock poking upward…into my hot center. Dubois slid me slowly down his front. I had ample opportunity to feel the length and breadth of him as the centimeters crept by. My clit jumped as the hardness brushed past it.

Damn, he looks good and feels like he’s packing! “Sure. But only if you get rid of the snake first.”

“Of course. I told you I planned to, so everything in correct order.” A kiss to the forehead. “Your knight will return momentarily.”

My feet were on the floor but I definitely felt like I was floating. My knight. Mine, all mine. I watched as Dubois retrieved the broom and advanced on the snake. The pointed black head lifted and I stifled the panicky scream bubbling up my throat. But Dubois kept his distance, curled the snake around the broom handle, and walked off the patio and toward the woods behind.

When he disappeared, I took my time, tiptoeing and peeking for any of the snake’s friends or relatives before I turned on the spa, setting the temperature and velocity of the jets. Those jets weren’t stand-ins for the real thing, but they weren’t half bad. I continued searching the patio thoroughly before I placed the chicken on the grill. Dubois returned. He ran his fingers into the churning water. “Feels good.” He let his fingers trail in the ripples. He rubbed the sweat from his forehead, then looked at me, smiled, and said, “Want to do this naked?”

My first thought was no. After all, I’d spent most of my life inhibited because of one reason or another, usually my feelings of inadequacy—weight, looks, attitude. But this was different. Dubois was my husband, so why not? “If you are game, I am.”

Dubois crooked his finger at me. I dutifully walked over, tingles traveling all through my body. I stopped in front of him. His fingers brushed my hair off my shoulders. “You are such a beautiful woman.” A girl never tired of hearing that. “Those other men were fools…and I am extremely glad they were.”

His hands moved to the lower edge of my T-shirt. Warm fingers brushed against my skin. Butterflies swam and dove in my stomach. Dubois pulled it up slowly, inch by inch, and over my head. He smiled appreciatively. I felt some of my old fears return and my arms slid up to cover my chest. “Don’t, you are truly so beautiful,” he whispered. I let my arms drop to my sides.

He pulled me close, hands skimming my hips. I took this opportunity to unbutton the top button of his shirt. My lips lifted at the corners as I watched the vessel pulse on the side of his neck. I unbuttoned the next three buttons, allowing me to see the nice growth of hair lying on his chest. I loved a hairy man, so I slid my fingers beneath the fabric, ran them through the thick thatch. It was rough, prickly; my nipples rose in anticipation.

Dubois swallowed, and a pulse jumped in his neck. I unbuttoned the final two buttons and pulled his shirt from his pants and off his shoulders, getting my first full view of his upper body. This man was definitely a magnificent piece of manhood. I couldn’t stop myself from walking around him and looking. From his broad chest to the delineated muscles in his back…pure perfection.

Further thoughts were erased because Dubois grabbed me and began unzipping my shorts. He held my eyes as he navigated them off my hips and let them drop to the ground. Dubois’s pants were a bit trickier. He wore a belt and his pants had double buttons before reaching the zipper. His bulge didn’t make pulling the zipper down an easier task, but I persevered. Soon, we were both standing in our underwear.

“Your turn.” I obliged and turned in a half-circle before hands stopped me. Dubois unhooked my bra and removed it, his tongue sliding down my arm in pursuit. My breasts puckered in the air. My breath held in my chest, unsure, as he dropped to his knees. A finger slid into either side of my waistband and my panties were gently tugged over the rise of my cheeks and off my hips. With a slight half-twist of my body, my bush ended up inches from his face. He licked his lips. My pussy pulsed, its fragrance wafting upward to my nose. My stomach flattened as his face moved closer, closer, closer. Dubois rubbed his face in my bush, his chin tenderly bumping, teasing my clit, eliciting a moan from me.

If he keeps this up, we’re definitely going to go back on all that “Let’s take it slow” stuff we said!

He rose. I saw smears of my juice on his face. I waited. Dubois lifted me, held me over the spa, and let me down easy into the warm water. He shucked off his boxers and climbed in beside me. Yes indeed, he was gorgeous from his head to his big-ass black cock to his big-ass feet. I was warm all over. Of course, it didn’t help that the jets were shooting water directly at my pussy.

“You like?” I asked as he climbed in and submerged himself.

“Very much. I have only experienced one hot tub. It was at the hotel where I worked a few summers on the mainland.”

I nodded. “Tell me more about you. The juicy stuff, like…what exactly does husbandship training include?” The husbandship referral had definitely piqued my curiosity. I’d Googled it, but came up with nothing but references to husbandry, and that was for animals.

He gave me a cautious look. “Are you sure you want to know?”

This further stoked my curiosity. “Sure. Why not?”

He thought a second before he spoke. “It can seem…overwhelming to some.”

What the heck? “You start telling me and I’ll stop you if I can’t handle it. Deal?” I held out my pinkie finger.

“Deal.” He wrapped his pinkie around mine. I guess some customs are worldwide. “It’s very simple: I learned how to please a woman in every form and fashion.”

“Etiquette and things like what we like, what to expect?” Sounded pretty basic.

“Yes, along with the art of making love.” A smile teased at his lips.

Whoa! “The art of making…love?” In my world, it was learn as you go, not any formal training I’d ever heard about.

“Yes. Sex is more than just a meeting of bodies. A good lover has to develop skills to not only please his lover but to mix it up and continue to please her time after time.”

This I could understand, after my few experiences and hearing so many married friends complain how sex was so hot in the beginning, then it began to fizzle out…until they either divorced and found a new partner or had an affair. “Yes, but you had…classes?”

“Definitely. Everyone who enters this program has at least three years in the lovemaking arts before they are allowed to be placed for consideration as a spouse.”

Three years of sex classes? I swallowed hard. “What were some of these classes?”

Dubois showed me his pearly whites before answering, “There was The Art of Seduction, Mind Foreplay, Erogenous Zones and Pleasure Pain, Sexual Techniques and Positions, Oral Skills, Toys and Accessories, Fetishes and Role Playing.” My pussy pulsed as he listed each class.

This information definitely blew my mind! I married a man who actually had classes to teach him all the various ways to satisfy me? I mean, we are talking about sex à la carte that he could deliver without the old third degree about why I wanted to do it, who I’d done it with previously, and not judge?

Hot damn! Mandingo with Advanced Sex Ed!

Am I a lucky heffa or what? I wished I’d invested the money years earlier. I could have avoided the fumbling about with the men around here.

“You are…quiet.”

More like speechless. “I’m sorry. I’m just taking in everything you just told me.”

He nodded. “Your reaction is actually milder than I had anticipated.”

“I can imagine. You probably thought I would jump up and run screaming into the house or something, one hand speed-dialing for Simon.”

“We have heard stories like that.” He nodded in assent.

“Not me.” I spread my arms wide around the edge of the tub and leaned back. “I’m thinking this is the best thing since light bread.”

“Light bread?” Confusion twisted his features.

Dang me and my slang! “Light bread is what we call white bread. It just means it’s better than a normal everyday thing like eating white bread.”

“Oh.”

A thought popped into my head and I had to ask. “So…I’m guessing these classes were…interactive?”

“Of course,” he deadpanned. “There is no way to learn how to please a woman unless there is a woman present to please.” Logical. “All of the males’ instructors were women, and vice versa.”

“So what, you guys just met, started having sex, and learned through on-the-job training?”

He shook his head at me. “No. Each prospect is assigned a specific teacher who stays with them for that year. The next year you receive a new instructor, to whom you must first prove you have mastered the previous year’s studies before they will allow you to continue.” His face was earnest, serious.

“Then you can enter the new set of classes.”

“Yes. You can then add a new layer of knowledge on top of the old layer.”

A thought niggled my mind and I had to ask. “These women…were they prostitutes?” I’ve always been health conscious, and even though we were each required to have a full STD screen, I still wanted to know.

“I suspect some of them were that or geishas in their former lives, but we were never told. I do know they seemed to enjoy their jobs very much.” He grinned widely.

“Probably not as much as you men enjoyed being their pupils.”

“Let’s just say there was mutual admiration all around.” His smile grew wider.

I was so…jealous. Actually taking classes to become a great lover was something I would definitely pay good money for. “And I’m guessing you passed all your classes with As?”

“It was pass/fail, but I never had to do any makeup work to pass. I aced it the first time—always.” He winked seductively with hooded eyes.

Heat suffused my body that even the water couldn’t cool. My legs widened, allowing the jets to again pulse fully onto my clit. I brushed against his leg. I gasped, gripped the edge of the tub as electricity shot through me. I started to remove my hand when his cock kissed my palm and…he moaned.

I liked the sound.

I slid my hand back and forth, allowing the head of his cock to circle inside my palm. His breathing increased; his eyes closed. I lightly moved my hand lower, allowing the eddy of the water to guide my journey down his shaft. His cock jumped, pulsed; my palm felt the precum release.

Oh, yes, I do like playing with fire.

I circled the head with my thumb and index finger and tugged. Dubois groaned, spread his legs wider. I definitely wanted a repeat of that sound. “Is this a class you enjoyed a lot?”

“They didn’t have a class in th-this,” he stuttered as I enclosed his rod in my fist.

Oh? I might be able to teach this learned dog a trick? Emboldened now, I stood, maneuvered until I was half floating between his legs. The water allowed my fingers ample lubrication as I stroked slowly at first, then firmer and faster, twisting in opposite directions. Dubois’s response egged me on—his hips rose from the spa seat, began pushing into my closed fist, the head of his cock now surging above the water line.

I cupped his balls, massaged them slowly as I kept stroking, circling, and pumping. His cock puffed, stiffened into an unbendable steel rod. He bit his lips, but a cry escaped. I vised him, stroked him firmly while plucking at his head with my fingers. Though I didn’t need to, I spat on his exposed head, earning a growl from him.

He was close.

I choked his head vigorously. He squirmed and I could see his toes curling, but I kept the pressure on. This must have been the right action because in seconds, his body clenched. He began blubbering in French, and a wad of cum spurted out of his head, hitting me squarely between my breasts. I continued to milk him until no more cum cascaded from his rod.

Dubois lay back, breathing heavily, as I resumed my place beside him. He pulled me to him, allowing his fingers to glide slowly up and down my arm. “Dina?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you haven’t had classes in wifeship?”

A laugh burst from my throat. According to some of my lovers, I was as vanilla as they came. “I haven’t. Why?”

Dubois held me tighter. “Your past lovers were arses.”

The high compliment made me feel all warm and fuzzy. I snuggled closer to him. “Thank you, baby.”

“I’m not a predictor of the future, but I do believe our sex life together will be one wild ride. I can tell about these things.”

Same thing I was thinking.

We lay there in silent contentment as the shadows lengthened.