Chapter 34 #2
My teeth dig into my lip as his fingers work furiously, forcing me to roll forward to pin his hand between my body and his thigh.
Despite my efforts not to let it, a strangled whine claws its way out of my throat while I come, and as I come down, my husband’s hand lovingly cups my pussy, his palm massaging against my throbbing clit.
“Get whatever you need for it,” he tells me.
When I turn to face him, a self-satisfied smile pulls across his lips, the tip of his tongue offering a flick to the jewelry there as he wets his lip.
Pulling his hand from my panties, he slides my zipper back into place and tacks back together the button to secure my pants before sliding out from beneath me with a kiss to my lips.
One of the small sandwiches slides into place in front of me as he reaches for his helmet to tuck it beneath his arm on his way toward the door.
“Tripp,” I call out. He stops at the door, bracing a hand against it as he faces me with an expectant raise of his brow. “Do you ever wish that I was different?”
“Not once since I met you,” he tells me with a shake of his head.
Offering me a warm smile and a wink, he gives a pat to the frame of the door before heading out into the salon with a ‘nice to see you, ladies’ to my girls on his way out.
My fingers tug once more at the apron still tied around my waist, and my head shakes at the insistence of my mother’s voice.
‘You let that boy touch you, Julia.’
“Please be quiet,” I whisper to her disembodied voice as I push my sandwich back into its plastic bag.
The list of things that I never once thought I’d experience in life is of considerable length.
At the top of that list, I’d write ‘ask my brother-in-law’s girlfriend for sex shop recommendations.
’ Realistically, I know that she probably passed on information which she asked him for, but there is absolutely no universe in which I would ever ask Brody the question myself.
Nia and I are friends; Brody is, for all intents and purposes, my brother.
The shop itself is busier than I would like for it to be, and even though I know they aren’t, it feels like every pair of eyes in this building is watching my every move.
The only thought that I can make out clearly in my mind as I weave through the other shoppers in here is the regret that I have over not having done this a week ago so I would have had time to ship something to the house, instead of having to buy it in person.
Squeezing my way past other shoppers, I catch sight of one of the items on my list.
My fingers trace box after box, each containing a different color or style of harness, and as I land on one in my favorite soft shade of pink, I silently plead with it to come in my size. The others are fine, but red and black are not my vibe, and I’d much rather feel cute.
It’s at the very back, because of course it is, but they have one single box that claims to extend past a 2X. I snatch it up, turning it over in my hand…and then I see its price tag.
Pushing it back onto the peg I pulled it from, I slide my phone out of my purse to send a quick text message to my husband.
His response is almost immediate, as if he’d been sitting next to his phone and waiting to hear from me, but I know that he isn’t. He has his own tasks to tend to today.
I sigh, my fingers flying across the keyboard to type out a lengthy message about overspending, but before I hit the send button, I highlight all of the text and delete it. Another text pings, as if he’s reading my mind.
With a decisive nod, I shove the phone back into my purse and reach for the harness that caught my eye minutes ago. He’s right; we’ve come close, but we’ve never gotten into any real trouble, and a little more expense on the card won’t put us too far in the red to not take the chance.
There are bigger things in life; I have to let this one go.
I am painfully, acutely aware of the fact that I look like I’m trying to shoplift as I tuck the harness under my arm and move toward a selection of attachments.
I decide on clear silicone, inlaid with a heavy sprinkling of rainbow glitter pieces.
Big enough to feel good, but small enough that I’ll be comfortable controlling it.
With a quick text to my husband to tell him that I’ve gotten what I need, I hurry through the check-out process, letting my hair fall into my face to try my best to keep my identity as hidden as possible from the cashier in front of me.
Tripp is carting a tray of pork chops from the refrigerator when I make it home and quietly close the garage door behind me. The corner of his mouth ticks up as he looks at the overstuffed purse now held beneath my arm, and he uses his head to gesture toward the stairs.
‘Did you…?’ I mouth to him, and he offers me a nod. His thumb and forefinger form a circle, the others standing up behind them.
With my teeth tugging at my lower lip to bite back a smile and the flutter of wings in my stomach, I hurry up the stairs and into our bedroom to hide my purchases before Connor finishes in the shower.
The last time that either of us have had to sneak a gift into our own house was during the week of mine and Tripp’s seventh wedding anniversary. He’d put together seven days of gifts to celebrate seven years married; the last of which, was my e-reader and a gift card for my first few books.
As I close the drawer to the night stand, I cast a smiling glance to the bathroom door.
In the stories he’s told us, Connor’s first boyfriend was the only partner who’d ever put in the effort to make his birthday special. He’s had exes forget his birthday or flat out ignore it, and others who went out of their way to make it awful.
The three of us have always done something together for his birthday, but this feels different. This isn’t beer and pizza. Tomorrow is going to be a first for our new version of family; it sets a precedent. It will show him what he means to us.
It has to be special.