30. Sloane
Sloane
T he cold February air steals my breath from my lungs. Shit, it’s colder in Jersey than the city, I swear.
Sully wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. “Will be a quick walk.”
It is, as it’s only across the street, but if it meant we could stay like this, then I’d consider pulling him down the block and taking the long way.
Yup, I have a full-fledged crush on my husband. With each day that passes, I crave these little moments with him more. We’ve yet to talk to T.J. about our relationship because we’re both concerned about getting his hopes up, so inside the apartment, we mostly keep our hands to ourselves.
But now that Lo, Cal and Brian know, we don’t have to censor ourselves constantly, and that knowledge makes it hard to contain my excitement.
From the look of things, the bar is busy tonight. Cars line both sides of the street, and even from outside, I can hear the din of chatter and music. When Sully pulls the heavy oak door open for me, I’m assaulted by the smell of stale beer, whiskey, and fried food.
It’s glorious. There’s nothing I love more than a dive bar, and the Grasshopper is one of the best I’ve found. It reminds me of the one across from Sully and Brian’s apartment in law school. The place where I first discovered my love of karaoke.
My mother has always been the kind of woman who would rather die than set foot in a place where her heels would literally stick to the floor. Despite that, or maybe because of that, I fell in love with the atmosphere instantly.
The first time we discovered karaoke night at that bar, we were celebrating Sully’s recent success on an exam.
At the time, Sully and I were just friends, though I had a massive crush on him.
So did every girl in our class, yet he never gave any of them the time of day.
I would have done anything to get that boy to see me as more than a friend, so I used his love for rock music—a shared affinity—to make my big move.
Up until that night, I’d felt like the third wheel.
The guys were best friends, and I figured that, like most people, they invited me into their friend group because of who my mother was.
Everyone talked about wanting to work for a judge during the summer because it looked good on applications.
So the vast majority of our classmates thought it beneficial to be friendly with me.
Because of that I wasn’t unpopular, but none of my friendships at that point felt genuine.
Sully and Brian never asked about my mother.
They never talked about summer internships either.
Sully was a bit of a slacker, skating by on his charm and putting in the bare minimum.
Brian was a good influence on him. Honestly though, it was our study sessions that pushed Sully to do so well on that exam.
He broke the class curve and was high on it.
While he ordered drinks for us, I excused myself, telling him I needed to use the restroom.
Then, while his back was turned, I went up to the karaoke guy, requested a song and rushed off the the bathroom to apply the reddest of lipsticks and fix my hair.
When I returned, Sully stood at the bar, our drinks in hand, and I put my plan into action.
I’ll never forget the way his face lit up when the emcee called my name.
Despite my nerves, I sashayed up there, hips swaying, and took the mic. I sang my heart out, getting almost every word wrong. It was terrible. So terrible that everyone in the bar was clapping and laughing at my horrible rendition of “Pour Some Sugar On Me.”
But Sully’s reaction made it all worth it. He watched me with a hunger that lit up my nerve endings. It’s the same way he looks at me now, though tonight there’s a slight smirk touching his lips, like he’s remembering that night too.
By the time I replaced the mic all those years ago, Sully was stalking toward me, and when we were face to face, he pulled me into his chest.
“That was awful,” he murmured, a huge smile on his face. “Bloody fucking awful.”
“Hey.” I reeled back, smacking him.
He only pulled me in tighter, his focus dropping to my mouth. “And the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Electricity pulsed between us as we stared at one another. One that couldn’t be ignored. So when he leaned forward and murmured, “I’d like to kiss you,” I made the move first, pressing my mouth to his.
Instantly, we were consumed, the chemistry between us igniting like fireworks. We weren’t soft with one another; we were hungry. I devoured him, all remnants of the shy, reserved daughter my mother had raised completely gone.
And then I fucked him in the barroom closet.
Maybe it wasn’t the most romantic of encounters, but the memory still makes my heart race to this day.
We couldn’t wait another minute.We didn’t discuss what it meant, whether it was a one-time thing, but we didn’t need to. Because despite the hard way he took me, Sully told me exactly how he felt as he sank inside me.
“I’ve been wanting this for months. You’re a bloody dream.”
Unlike the boys I’d been with in the past, he knew exactly how to pleasure me.
There was no fumbling to find my clit, and he wrapped his hand around my throat and held on tight.
I’d never even read about that kind of thing in a book, but in that moment, the move felt exactly right.
He manhandled me and kissed me softly at the same time.
When we returned to the table, Brian barked out a laugh at the red lipstick that stained our faces. Maybe I should have been embarrassed, and maybe I would have been, but Brian’s next words wiped any doubt from my mind.
“Congrats, Sul. You finally got the girl.”
Months later, I asked Brian what he meant by that.
He shook his head, a big smile on his face. “If you can’t see that Sully’s been crazy about you since day one, I don’t know what to tell ya.”
I look at my husband now, catching him watching me, clocking my reaction to the scene in front of us, and hear Brian’s words all over again.
“Ah, if it isn’t the man of the hour.” The bartender rounds the bar and holds a hand out to Sully. “Everyone’s loving the karaoke idea. There’s a table up front reserved for you, just like you requested.”
Sully shakes his hand and then follows him toward the makeshift stage.
The bar is more crowded than normal, but from our prime spot, we get to witness everyone’s embarrassing renditions of their favorite songs.
The karaoke machine is smallish. It’s nothing like the equipment bars in New York would set up for nights like this. But after the bartender’s comment when we came in, I’m certain it’s Sully’s doing. He probably ordered the damn thing online.
His thoughtfulness leaves me slightly dizzy and filled with lust.
With the crowd they’re garnering, it might be beneficial for the bar to invest in a nicer sound system to keep this up. If they did, I’d be here every week. At least until our time in Jersey is over .
I may be getting bigger by the day and I may not be able to drink, but this is my kind of entertainment.
“So who’s singing first?” Lo eyes each one of us, practically bouncing in her seat. I think she might be as excited as I am.
“I’ve always wanted to sing one of those boy band songs,” Cal says. “Like ‘I Want It to Be Me.’”
Lo frowns, her brow furrowing. “That doesn’t sound right.”
He hums a sort of familiar tune and holds out both hands, doing a motion that looks like it’s part of the chicken dance. Or, on second thought, maybe it’s *NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye” dance.
“Oh!” I clap, sitting straighter. “He combined It’s Gonna Be Me and I Want You Back . They’re by two different bands, Cal.”
“Which one is the bouncing up and down with the hands song?”
“That’d be Bye Bye Bye, ” Lo tells him before hopping up and darting to the karaoke signup sheet.
“You going to sing with him?” I ask Sully.
With a smirk, he tugs my chair closer, only stopping when I’m wedged between his legs. He drapes an arm around me and places his free hand over mine on the table. “You know how I like to sing at karaoke.”
God, and I do. Always like this. His lips pressed to my ear, the words a rasp between us.
I lean into him. And into the memories this action conjures. Memories that span almost two decades.
The guy manning the machine cues up a song and takes the mic himself. Then, with a nod to Sully, he breaks into a rendition of “All the Way” by Frank Sinatra.
Goose bumps erupt across my arms, and my heart flutters. It’s the song we danced to on the night we got married. When we got home from our little reception and realized we hadn’t danced once, Sully held me close and twirled me around the kitchen slowly, singing it in my ear.
I’d forgotten about that. How is that possible? Though my heart aches at that realization, it quickly lifts when it hits me that Sully didn’t.
The dive bar and everyone in it fade away, and I’m taken back to that little apartment in the West End.
Our parents hated it, which only made us love it more.
As I look into my husband’s eyes, I find a kaleidoscope of memories reflected there.
Lazy Saturdays in bed. Late nights with a bottle of wine between us.
Urgent, needy kisses. Achy limbs and swollen lips.
Sweaty bodies pressed together against the couch, or the counter, or the wall.
My nipples are hard as he dips in close and mumbles the words of the song against my heated skin.
“Sully,” I whisper. I’m slick with want and so, so needy. Turning, I bring my lips to his so he’s now singing the lyrics against my mouth.
His eyes light up, his expression knowing. I don’t have to tell him what I want. He already knows. Just like all those years ago, my husband can read my every cue.
“Does my wife need something?” he asks quietly, dropping a hand to my knee.
My body bows into his and I whimper. “You. Now. Please.”
With a grin, he pulls back. “Lead the way.”
We stand together, somewhat abruptly, doing a terrible job of sneaking out.
I’m already eyeing the back hallway when I reach for Sully’s hand and drag him with me.
“Let’s go across the street to the office,” Sully says when I open a closet door, only to be hit with a smell that almost makes me gag.
“No, need you now.” Not bad enough to get it on in there, though that doesn’t deter me from my mission.
We may be older, and we may be parents, but we’re still those two people who couldn’t wait another minute, so the second I find an empty closet that doesn’t stink, I pull my husband inside and push him up against the door.
As I slam my mouth to his, it’s like the last little puzzle piece clicking into place.
The ferocity with which we kiss and the strength of his fingers as they dig into my hips remind me that this man is the only person I’ve ever wanted in this way.
It’s like coming home. Like clicking the lock and finally feeling safe after a long, stressful day.
I sink into this kiss and revel in the feeling of us.
When Sully whispers, “Turn around, I need to fuck my wife right bloody now,” his voice gruff, I know he’s finally snapped too.
For months, he’s let me lead. He’s checked in. But he’s done asking me what I want. He’s giving us both what we need. And god, this may be the hottest moment of my life.
As I spin, he undoes his belt, the buckle clinking. The sound is followed by the familiar trill of his zipper lowering. He presses his hot body against mine and hikes up my dress before pulling down my underwear. Then, in one long thrust, he enters me.
Legs shaking, I palm the wall to keep myself upright. Every time Sully enters me, it feels like the first time. His presence is all-encompassing, his body attuned to mine. It’s not just his size; it’s the way he takes me. All of me.
Wrapping an arm around my front, he palms one breast. As he tweaks my nipple through the material of my dress, he snakes his other hand along my hip and puts pressure where I need him most. He rolls my clit between his fingers as he thrusts, all the while whispering dirty promises in my ear.
“You’re my fucking wife,” he grits out. “My dirty girl loves to get fucked in public. You like how my cock feels dragging through you, don’t you? That’s right, squeeze me. Right fucking there. Bloody hell, I’m losing my fucking mind. I need you to come. I’m not gonna last.”
Stars dance behind my eyelids and blood whooshes in my ears as my own orgasm barrels down on me.
“You like that. You want me to come in this hot pussy. Want me to fill you up again and again.”
That’s all it takes to send me over the edge.
As I tumble, a shuddering, sweaty mess, he mumbles, “Yes, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so perfect, squeezing my cock like that. God, I love you.”
I drop my head back against his chest as we both come down, our breaths loud in the confined space. I commit this moment to memory, set on remembering every detail so I can replay it later.
Sully kisses my cheek, and when I arch back to look at him, he presses his mouth to mine. “Are you okay?”
I laugh against his lips. “Bloody perfect.”
“You’re bloody perfect,” he says, burying his face in my hair. “But this cupboard is empty. There’s nothing here to clean you up with.”
I waggle my brows. “Looks like I’ll be walking around tonight as a marked woman.”
Cursing, he pulls out of me. Then he helps me right my underwear and tugs my dress over my ass.
I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him tight. “Thank you for tonight.”
A content sigh escapes him. “A thousand todays would never be enough.”
I close my eyes and rest my head against his steady heart. Because he’s right.
But I’m excited to have as many of them with this man as I can get.