Page 74 of Betrothed To Love

“I’m like a fucking teenager when I see your beautiful naked body. And although I’m blessed to see it every day, each time is like fuck! That’s all me,” he says, then salaciously pulls his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Oh, the feeling is mutual, baby. All of that,” I say while scanning his body. “It’s all mine too.”

“Well, shit, what you gon’ do with it then?” he asks.

“Turn over, get comfortable, and you’ll see.” His head tilts slightly then his eyes narrow in curiosity. So I add, “Just please trust me.”

When he lays on his stomach, he props his head on his forearms and turns to face me. He has no idea what I have planned and not knowing has his dark eyes squinting. With my eyes locked on his curious gaze, I saunter over to him then climb on the bed, straddling his lower back.

“I trust this for sure. I can feel the heat from your sweet pussy,” he says then tries to turn over.

“Stay just like this,” I warn as my thighs bear down to hold him in place.

“Then don’t do that shit. Fuck! Gripping me with your thighs got me really wanting to turn over,” he says.

“Just let me work my magic.”

While ending the night with him deep inside is definitely on my agenda, first things first. I need to relieve some of the tension I see on his face and around his shoulder and neck area. He’s been tight since he walked into the condo hours ago.

“What’s that?” he asks as I squeeze gel onto his back. “I can’t be smelling sweet like you at the office tomorrow.”

“Why can’t you? I’m your wife. You sleep with me and you’re up on me all the time. You can have my scent all over you. Don’t make me come to the office to see why or who you can’t smell like me around,” I say with faux jealousy. There isn’t an envious bone in my body, and plus, he doesn’t give me a reason to be jealous. In any room or space, Quintus only has eyes for me.

“You can come but there’s nobody to see ’cause I don’t see anybody but you,” he says. “When a real man has a queen by his side, he doesn’t fuck with peasants.”

I lean in and kiss the back of his neck, then whisper into his ear, “Good answer.”

“The only answer.”

“You just earned a good ass massage,” I tell him as I ease up to rub across his shoulders.

TWENTY-TWO

Since my wife didn’t have court until eleven this morning, she took Niya to school. When she mentioned it, Niya ran to me, gave me a quick ass hug, and told me goodbye. Although my baby girl was ditching me, all I could do was smile. Mireya took her last Monday after my fucked up Sunday with Shuga and now Niya wants her to take her everyday. With her schedule, that’s not possible, but when Mireya can, she does.

They left for Diamond Elite at seven, so I came into the office early. I’ve been going nonstop since then, but I need a break to make the call I’ve been putting off since my investigator, Maxine, emailed me yesterday afternoon. Highly skilled, Max found the information on my sister and the woman Asali cheated on Shuga with.

I don’t know why I’m hesitant to open it. There’s no doubt that Asali cheated or that my sister exists. It’s been a little over a week and he hasn’t returned home. Shuga is still asking for space and time but she’s at least messaging us now, to me and my brothers’ relief. She sent out a group voice note last Wednesday telling us that she was doing better but needed time to mourn the loss of her marriage and she answers our individual messages. Respecting her wishes is hard as fuck, but I’m falling back. As long as she answers my text messages, I guess I can manage. When I get the urge not to, my wife gently reminds me that Shuga’s strong and will pull through this.

As if reading my mind, my wife calls as I’m looking at the unopened email. Because of our hectic schedules, we share calendars, so I know she’s free for the next hour and a half. It’s a few minutes after one, so she just got out of court.

“What’s up, my kyau?” I answer.

“Ugh,” she sighs. “Sick of cocky defense attorneys.”

“I hope I’m not included in that bunch.”

“Never you, baby. I’m talking about cocky and ineffective ones. My husband is arrogant, rightfully so, and a highly skilled litigator. I wouldn’t dare classify him with the idiot who just argued in my court,” she says and I smile.

“I want to see your beautiful face,” I say, then start a FaceTime call. She accepts and I watch as she removes her robe, smooths her hands down her soft curves, then sits in her chair. Every movement she makes is fucking perfection and I don’t want to miss any of them. I love my wife but also I’m obsessed with her, every aspect of her.

“Aww, that’s better. Those robes are hot,” she says. “But how are you? Did you open the email?”

“Looking at it now,” I admit.

“Open it, baby. We can do it together. You already know she exists.”

“Yeah, I know, but whatever’s in this really makes this shit real. I’ll have a name and maybe a face to put with Asali’s betrayal.”