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And why I opened my mouth and told him something that no one else knows I have no idea.
But in the morning, I will blame it on the half quart of moonshine I swallowed down. Damn, something had to be said about mixing the banana cream pudding with the peanut butter.
“I’ve never experienced an orgasm unless I was the one giving it to myself.” I said it low because the brothers were still around us and that would’ve been a slap in their faces.
They have been good to me.
I wouldn’t do that to them.
I watched as his frame stiffened and I could see that he wanted to say something, but he was holding himself back.
Again, in the morning, I would blame all of this on the alcohol.
“What is it?” I asked him with a slur in my tone.
“Nothing.” He shook his head and took a pull from his beer.
“Pipe… please. What is it?”
“You’re not going to let this go. Are you?”
I shook my head slowly, knowing that if I shook it too fast, I was going to get dizzy.
He sighed then and leaned over to whisper in my ear, which caused shivers to race along my spine, “Just thinking about all the ways I could make you come with my mouth, my tongue, my teeth, my fingers. Suckling that little nub until it's pulsing in my mouth, then licking up every delicious drop of your come. Giving the same attention to your nipples, your neck, and the backs of your thighs. Wondering if I ran my hands up the insides of your thighs if it would have you screaming out my name with need. Wondering what my name would sound like as you screamed it while I was buried balls deep inside of you.”
I had to clench my thighs together to hold in what he was doing to me.
He’s married. He’s married. He’s married.
Gah, this was getting harder and harder to deal with.
The temptation was there.
But I made a vow a long time ago that I wouldn’t be like my mother.
That I wouldn’t be labeled as a homewrecker.
I was this close to leaving. Because there was no way I could stay after the time we spent together and what he just said to me, and then having to see his wife, the woman I have still yet to meet, to see him doing even a sliver of that to her.
Never would I go back on that promise, that vow I made myself at the tender age of five.
***
It was the next day and Lizette had just stomped over to me from walking past Rachel, Buster’s wife.
Under her breath she said, “God! I hate that woman. Why is she such a bitch to me?” Lizette huffed and puffed out a long breath.
I knew she was tired of catching the attitude from the few ole’ ladies. I could see her point. She is doing her job by sleeping with the brothers. And I see their point. She is sleeping with a married man.
“See that? They smiled at you and sneered at me. What the fuck gives?”
“You know why,” I told her as I locked eyes with her.
“No. I really don’t. You’re a club girl too, and yet they treat you with respect.”
“I don’t sleep with men that are taken. You know this.”
“Wait… you don’t?” She looked at me like I was an alien who had just sprouted out three heads.
