Page 90 of Anyone But You

“It is. Did you want me to lie to you?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “At least my feelings would’ve been spared.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

Knox and I completed a final walk-through and took additional pictures per Doug’s request after I promised to link up with my friends for brunch the following day. When we arrived at the police station, I was good and cried out—bloodshot eyes, snot dripping from my nose, salty tear streaks on my cheeks, and a hiccup that wouldn’t quit no matter how many times I yelled, “I’m not a fish!”

Hope and Faith? I hope you enjoy your freedom while you still can.

28

Crackhead Chronicles

Crackhead Chronicles

Knox

“Okay. Tell me again—one more time.”

“You said that the last time,” I said with a huff, snatching another slice of pizza from the box.

My ego is bruised beyond repair. My wife won’t stop laughing at the fact that I was roundhouse kicked by a crackhead at the tender age of twelve, and Vince’s pizza is infinitely better than mine. Of course, I’ll never admit that.

I told her it reminded me of frozen supermarket pizza, and she expressed that I was a liar and the truth wasn’t in me. As she would say, I stood on business. I reiterated that the pizza was garbage while secretly signing up for the subscriber list to keep up-to-date with the restaurant and to score discount coupons.

What my wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

“This is the last time; I promise I won’t ask again.”

I sighed in annoyance and discarded the pizza on my plate.

“I came out of my favorite bodega after purchasing baseball cards and found a disheveled woman—”

“You know what? You deserved to get your ass kicked for trying to fight a woman.”

“That’s it. I’m done,” I announced, leaving the couch with my pizza. Her laughter followed me into the kitchen, and the source of that laughter soon made its unwelcome arrival when she joined me at the kitchen sink. My mind swiftly changed when she wrapped her arms around my midsection and leaned into my back. Her body heat penetrated my shirt, reminding me of all those sleepless nights on the island. There was no doubt she’d keep me toasty through the winter. “Oh?” I said when one of her hands slid into my sweats. Her fingers circled my erection, and she stroked me languidly from the base to the tip.

“Aht, aht, aht; get back to those dishes,” she ordered, squeezing her grip, nearly making my knees buckle.

I cleared my throat before asking, “Does my domestic labor turn you on?”

“It does, but this has nothing to do with that. This is me thanking you for dropping everything to see about me and an apology for laughing at your crackhead chronicles.”

“As far—”

Shit, I can barely think.

“As far as your sisters go, you don’t have to thank me for that, but if you think a hand job is enough to earn my forgiveness, then you have another thing coming.”

She bit the shell of my ear. I shuddered.

“Wash those dishes faster, Gio. I’ll be upstairs waiting for you,” she whispered, giving me a final squeeze before sauntering away.

I finished the dishes in two minutes flat and took the elevator to the second floor. I entered our bedroom and found her gloriously naked and bent over the bed with her hands firmly planted on the mattress. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to her rounded ass perched in the air. My fingers skimmed the smooth flesh that felt like the finest satin before grabbing a handful of ass and pushing her forward. I spread her cheeks and lost myself in the view. She was already slick and juicy for me, dripping with need.

A soft moan escaped her lips when I penetrated her with my fingers.

“Tori, give me a preview, baby,” I urged. She looked over her shoulder, made eye contact, and took my fingers. She rocked back and forth on my digits, slicking and coating them with her arousal. This went on for a few minutes until her arousal leaked from my fingers down my palm and wrist, and her moans became drawn out and more frequent.