Chapter 1 #2
Courtney agrees with Morgan, and continues down her list of things she wants to cover before the party starts. “We’ll do meet and greets as people arrive, then Ross will do his speech honoring Dad-“ She points a finger at Ross, “You have that, right?”
Ross usually gives Courtney a bit of shit about being a control freak, but we all know how on edge she is right now, so he kindly answers, “Yep. I’m good.”
Expecting that, she continues, “Then Dad, you’ll talk and make the announcement that I’m taking over Andrews Consolidated. Oh my God, I’m taking over Andrews Consolidated.”
Her eyes go glassy and vacant as though she’s only just now realizing why we’re having this whole party tonight.
Kaede steps up to her side and places a soothing hand on her lower back and you can see the stress melt off of her.
She sends him a grateful look and he beams, his pride in his wife obvious.
One thing I can say for the Andrews children . . . though all the marriages might have begun under unusual circumstances, each of the relationships has only solidified over the years. Morgan’s wish for his kids to find happiness in love and family has definitely come true.
As if she can hear me thinking lovely thoughts about her, Abigail’s heels click quickly across the foyer and she appears in the doorway, looking beautiful and late as always. “Did I make it? I swore I was going to make it on time.”
Courtney rolls her eyes, “I gave you a ten-minute buffer because I knew you’d be late, so yep, you made it . . . right on time for when I actually needed you.”
Abigail’s eyes go fiery, promising revenge, which will likely be in the form of something happening tonight that Courtney will deem completely inappropriate. I can’t wait.
A few more steps into the room and Abigail is at my side.
Courtney keeps talking, something about speeches and reminders about what to say and not say to certain people – there’s a list in our emails apparently that Abigail and I definitely didn’t read.
But Courtney’s voice has faded into the background as I look at my wife.
Her hair is brushed into a loose chignon, one I know can be unleashed with the pull of a few bobby pins because I’ve done it countless times.
Her lips are my favorite shade of red, the one that looks obscenely sexy smeared on my olive skin against the black lines of my tattoos.
And her dress hugs her curves, highlighting the slight softness she carries after giving birth to our daughter.
“You look beautiful, mia rosa,” I whisper as I snake my arm around her waist, pulling her to stand in front of me.
“Looking good yourself, husband,” she replies, glancing up at me with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Save me a dance?”
She taps her lip with a freshly pink nail that’s surprisingly clean, acting like she’s giving my request serious consideration. “It depends on the song. I’m feeling some Ginuwine Pony twerking tonight. You down?”
It’s all I can do to cover my snort of laughter with a cough when Kaede shoots me a heated glare.
‘Don’t fuck this up for Court or I’ll kill you,’ that stare vows.
Courtney has buoyed him through the openings of dozens of One Life Gyms over the last few years, and tonight, he’s taking the role as supportive husband of his newly-crowned CEO wife seriously.
Exceedingly so. I can understand that, respect it even, and honestly, while I might be significantly wider and harder than Kaede, he’s quick and trained, so I’d rather not have to fight him.
Been there, done that during our Bro Training Sessions, with Ross, Kaede, and me taking turns as fighters and referees.
Kaede’s a stone-cold badass despite his polo shirts and fancy watches.
But the truth is, if any of us throws more than a glare tonight, our wives will kill us and then provide each other’s alibis.
And we all know it. Vi definitely has a secret get-out-of-jail-free card hidden up her sleeve at all times.
And if she doesn’t, Archie could sweet-talk our wives into or out of anything.
So, I give a chin dip to answer his threatening look. ‘My bad,’ I apologize.
Back to Abigail, I growl in her ear, “I think we’d best save the twerking for later tonight, at home. With you naked, sitting on top of me, impaled on my cock while your lush ass jiggles with every drop.”
I feel the hitch in her breath and know I’m getting to her. She’s so responsive to me, it’s easy even after all these years.
“You think I’m going to do all the work while you just lay there?” she dares.
“Nope, I’m going to grab those hips so hard I leave fingerprints, guide your pace, and stop you when you get on the edge.
Then I’m going to tease that pretty pink rosebud with my thumb until you’re trembling with need.
And maybe I’ll let you come then or maybe I’ll make you wait until I’ve filled you with my cum again and again.
And only then will I keep using your body until you come. ”
A shiver works its way down her spine and I feel goosebumps pop up on her bare arms. “You play dirty.” The accusation is heated with lust.
“You like it.” She doesn’t need to see my face to know I’m giving her that smug smirk she hates and loves in equal measure.
Courtney claps her hands, “That’s everything. Any questions?”
Why is she looking at me and Abigail, and no one else?
Oh, yeah. Probably because they’re all listening with rapt attention to her instructions and we’re over here in the middle of some dirty talking foreplay.
“All good, Court,” Abigail answers, “except I missed the part where I set off the fireworks out front. Is that before hors d’oerves or after the toasts?”
There are no fireworks.
Probably.
Hell, who knows, there might be, knowing Abigail.
“Funny.” Courtney makes it clear that it’s anything but humorous and Kaede makes a move towards the door, presumably to check the yard for incendiary devices.
Abigail smiles innocently as she tells me, “Fools, the fireworks are out back . . . obviously. That’s where the pool will reflect them best.”
Aaaaand, there might actually be fireworks tonight, one way or another.
But I wouldn’t change a thing . . . not the roots I’ve put down to make a home here with Abigail and our precociously brilliant daughter, not the family I’ve been adopted into with equal parts business-minded drive and family-focused appreciation, and not the restaurant I’ve made into my own over the years with a menu I change at will after scouting trips the world over for sources and inspirations.
It’s all . . . just what I needed to settle down.
Abigail is what I needed.
A way to have roots but still be a bit bad, a bit wild, a bit crazy.
A few hours later, there’s a houseful of people chatting over fancy hors d’oerves and sipping champagne.
Ross has given his speech, full of light humor at the way him and his dad used to butt heads when they worked together but how he has always looked up to him.
There are laughs and aww’s around the room.
Then Morgan gave his speech, announcing Courtney as CEO.
He gave the official speech at their board meeting this week, but this one is more personal, singing Courtney’s praises and foretelling Andrews continued success with her at the helm.
And then Courtney speaks. She’s mid-way through her five-year plan when there’s a big crash from the foyer.
Every Andrews eye cuts to me. We all know that if something’s gone wrong, there are two likely culprits.
My wife and my daughter.
I make a hurried exit to track down which of my two hellions has stepped in it this time.
Even knowing that there’s no telling what I’m likely to find, I’m still shocked to see Abigail and Maisie laid out on the marble floor of the foyer.
Fancy dresses be damned. Especially considering there’s a generous pile of –
Is that dirt surrounding them?
Of course it is.
“Mom! Don’t let him get away!” Maisie whisper-screams.
“Does Grandma even know you have these?” Abigail answers.
Maisie’s look is unabashed pride, “Duh. Of course not.”
Abigail couldn’t be more delighted of our daughter’s slight rebellion. I’m sure of that.
“Ladies, do you need some help?” I ask around a smile.
“Dad! Yes, help us catch them!”
I squat down and look more closely at the dirt, which is wiggling and squirming.
I recoil and then realize that it’s just earthworms. My daughter has apparently made them a home in a deep bowl from Kimberly’s kitchen.
I’m pretty sure that’s the bowl she served mashed potatoes in last Thanksgiving and I make a mental note to give it an extra hot and sudsy wash tonight to get rid of the worm germs.
I don’t pick up the worms individually, instead using my big hands to scoop the dirt, worms and all, back into the bowl.
“Thanks, Dad!” Maisie gushes, pecking my stubbly cheek with a kiss of appreciation.
Crisis averted it seems, until there’s another loud sound . . . outside. The boom is followed by a fizzy sound. I cut my eyes toward Abigail suspiciously.
“You didn’t? Did you?”
She has the decency to blush slightly, but her chin rises in defiance. “She deserves it! This is a big fudging’ deal!” She’s not cussing in front of Maisie even though Maisie has heard it all before.
I can’t help but chuckle.
“Hey Maisie, go on out back and watch the fireworks with your cousins and everyone. I’ll put your worms upstairs so they’re safe and sound, and Grandma doesn’t see them, okay?”
To my daughter’s credit, she does give the worms a motherly look, but she’s nine and fireworks are going to win out every time, so she runs off into the crowded room where Courtney’s speech has stopped abruptly.
“Let’s go outside and watch!” Maisie yells and like so many times before, my little ringleader-slash-gang boss has her three cousins running after her. With a few laughs, I hear everyone else start to go outside too.
I pick up the bowl of worms and eye my wife.
“Mia rosa, I don’t know how long that fireworks show you planned is going to last but I want two orgasms from you before the finale. So you’d better hurry.”
She scrambles to her feet, kicks off her heels and runs for the stairs. I let her get a headstart because she loves it when I chase her, and then follow, the bowl of worms carefully clutched in my hands.
By the time I set the worms down on Abigail’s dresser, she’s got her dress hiked up over her ass and her panties kicked off. They landed on the lampshade, giving the room a pink glow.
Abigail holds her hands up, “Dirty again. Guess I’ll have to go hands-free.” She grins and licks her lips, prepping her mouth for me.
I hold my dirty hands up too. “Me too.”
I don’t wait. I drop to my knees, clenching her thighs tight in my grip, dirt be damned, and taste her. No matter what I cook, what magic I create in the kitchen, nothing tastes as good as Abigail’s sweetness.
“Lorenz . . . ohhh!” she hisses. I love when she tries to stay quiet, but can’t because the sensations are too strong and overwhelm her.
“That’s one, mia rosa,” I warn. “I want more. Always more, with you.”
She thinks I’m talking about the second orgasm, but the truth is . . . it’s so much more than that. I want years with her by my side, surprising me, driving me crazy, showing up late with leaves in her hair, and playing in the dirt and flowers with our daughter.
This is what I spent all those years searching for, never able to settle down until I found someone special enough to make every day exciting, every place worth exploring, and every thing new.
She gives me roots, and I give her the freedom to fly. And even years later, our perfect life together is a big, fat, real honeymoon.