Cocktales

by K. S. Adkins

  Together.

  Donning my little black dress and clear heels with my hubs decked out in a silk shirt, distressed jeans and shit kickers, we dined at Scotch 80 Prime and were both pleasantly buzzed when we were escorted to APEX Rooftop Social club. Did either of us care that people were staring? Nope.

  We were in our own bubble of happiness and honeymoon bliss.

  Foregoing chairs, I sat in his lap. I couldn't get enough of my man and his muscles.

  God damn, he was the sexiest creature ever created.

  The view may be the best in Vegas, but it had nothing on Ty Cole.

  It's official. I'm certain husband is replacing author in all conversations now.

  “Christ,” he says bringing me back to the present. “Motherfuckers are pointing at you.”

  “They are?” I blink uncaring.

  “Yeah, sweet, they are. Famous, remember?”

  Just as I was about to brush the comment off, two women who honestly looked ready to kick the other’s ass swarmed us to say, “Oh my God! You're Dating Diva!” the blonde squeals.

  “The author of Cocktales!” the redhead gushes.

  “Guilty,” I smile but only because I can feel his hard cock under my ass. Oh, he likes this!

  “Can we buy you and your...”

  “Husband,” I finish for them.

  With wide eyes they look from him to me and it was hilarious. “Newlyweds,” I amend. “Ty Cole, this is....”

  “Serenity,” the blonde says backing up a spot.

  “Destiny,” the other says following suit.

  “Ladies,” he says ignoring them to stare at me.

  “Wow,” Destiny says taking him in. “He's very...”

  “Mine,” I answer on a growl, which means I'm clearly taking after my spouse these days.

  “I was going to say alpha.” Destiny grins.

  “Acceptable,” I smile in instant forgiveness.

  “Yours,” Ty growls in my ear.

  Eventually I ended up signing one napkin, a tittie, and a quick selfie before giving my hubby my full attention once again.

  For the next couple of hours we drank martinis, talked about everything and nothing—having the time of our lives.

  When the DJ started his set, I pulled Ty out of his seat and onto the dance floor shouting, “I threw up to this song!”

  Wrapping his arms around me he says, “I don't dance, sweet.”

  “You don't?”

  “It's not so much as I don't, but that I don't know how.”

  With my arms around his waist I whisper, “Allow me.”

  It didn't matter that it was a club remix playing, to us, it was the slowest song we never heard.

  And with our bodies joined, as we swayed, I couldn't have told you where he ended and I began.

  Honestly, I was too happy in his arms to say anything at all.

  “Stop laughing,” I grin up at my ballsy wife, who from what I can tell, wasn't afraid of anything. “Do you know how many people probably died up here?”

  Kneeling down she cocks her head to the side and says, “Mob hits don't count, sour.”

  “Oh so now I'm sour again?”

  “Well yeah,” she says sitting on the concrete next to me. “I'm not the one who can't handle heights.”

  The Hoover Dam, I decided was not for the weak or the fresh out of the pen.

  Heights it seemed, were not my thing. This is evidenced by me planting my ass on the ground totally unable to move.

  “Fuck, I'm gonna have to crawl out of here.”

  “Can I ride you?”

  “What?” I ask adjusting myself. “Here?”

  “I meant on your back,” she laughs loud. “But if you can walk out on your own two legs, I'll ride you to heaven and back later.”

  Not having to be told twice, I hoisted myself up, tossing my bride over my shoulder caveman style and carrying her straight to the bottom.

  Back in the rental, she links our fingers and says, “I take it the Skybar is off the menu?”

  Groaning, I promise her, “I'll do whatever you want as long as we're not in the air when we do it.”

  “Fair,” she says biting her lip then fidgeting with her phone.

  At the light I ask, “What's so important on your phone that you aren't staring at me with adoring eyes.”

  Licking her luscious lips she says, “Our next stop.”

  An hour later, a fucking military Humvee picked us up out in front of our hotel, and no lie, I had a total chubby on the ride over to the facility.

  Still having no idea what the hell we were doing, I clutched her hand, tucking her into my side, annoyed these two dudes kept checking her out.

  Though if I had to guess they were trying to figure out how I scored a woman like this in the first place. Either way, I wanted to punt them out of the window.

  At least until the guy driving says, “Your woman must be pretty fucking important to get the entire place to yourselves. Not even The Rock pulled that off.”

  “Meh,” she waves with her free hand. “It's just money.”

  “Sweet,” I say in her ear. “The fuck are we doing?”

  “We,” she emphasizes. “Are about to go full throttle.”

  “Hoorah,” the guy wearing fatigues in the passenger seat whoops out.

  “Man,” the driver says shaking his bald head. “What you're about to do is almost better than sex.”

  “Doubt it,” I argue staring at my woman's jiggling tits.

  Okay so I should mention the driver was right and he was wrong. While nothing would ever trump sex with my wife, crushing a car with a tank was a really close second.

  With my fist in the air I yell, “Fuck yeah!” with adrenaline pumping through my veins and my woman's cheers in my ears, I gotta say, I was primed.

  Only we weren't done.

  Escorted back inside, we were outfitted in military gear and debriefed on what they call, 'Winner Winner Chicken Dinner.' Which meant we were about to rotate through 14 weapons ranging from pistols to sniper rifles to assault rifles.

  Before we stepped out into the field, the main instructor zeros in on Diva asking, “You sure about this, sweetheart? These weapons pack a punch.”

  Winking at him she shuts him down with, “I know a thing or two about machine guns.”

  My wife? Well, she wasn't fucking kidding.

  While Ty slept off his adrenaline crash and two straight hours of sexing, I came outside, poured myself a cocktail, tossed my top over my shoulder and made a phone call.

  It was brief. As I suspect these types of calls to be.

  That done, I called my Mom-Diva and left her a voicemail. Checking email was quick and painless, so was confirming my next signing. Because I turned it down.

  With nothing to do but relax, I found myself antsy.

  Because tomorrow, my husband and I were checking out, thus ending our honeymoon and driving to Travis's compound.

  Because, of course, he had a compound.

  Gag.

  I loved Ty with all I've got and the last thing I wanted to do was pit him against his brother.

  But this shit with Travis had to stop.

  Hopefully the ring on my finger and sister-in-law status would cure Travis of his affliction.

  Because family is important and I knew, without a doubt, Ty will choose me.

  And I refused to cause a rift.

  Hence, the phone call.

  Being a reader the first half of my life and a writer the second, I adored the fact that Ty and I were a romance novel cliché. The bad boy with a checkered past, tall chiseled body, broody eyes and so god damned alpha it was nearly unbelievable. A man who sees no other female but me. A man who didn't see cellulite, a really voluptuous ass and thick thighs.

  A man who fell in love on sight, who made me fall right back and, who was a virgin.

  The same man who wanted to be the hero of our story, and, I, the independent woman who didn't require a hero but wanted one just the same.


  My husband who didn't care about my past; as long as I was his future.

  All my life I told myself no one could love me more than I did.

  Until Ty.

  When he walked out in low hanging boxers, messy hair, and a sleepy face, my heart tripped over in my chest. God, he was so beautiful it hurt.

  “Morning, sweet,” he says kissing my nose. “Lose your top again?”

  Speechless, I gaze up in total awe of him from head to toe.

  “What's wrong?” he asks situating me on his lap.

  “Nothing,” I say leaning into him. “It's just when I see you, time stops.”

  After a moment he says, “When I was in prison all I had was time, right? I used to sit there praying it would speed up because I was going crazy. Now, I've got you and I want it to slow down. There's only one thing more precious than our time and that's who we spend it with. I'll never have enough time with you, wife.”

  Undone, I whisper, “What happens next?”

  With his chin resting on my head he says, “We deal with Travis.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we do whatever the fuck we want.”

  I loved how simple it sounded.

  I loved that he was so sure.

  I loved that I trusted him.

  But in case it wasn't simple, wasn't sure, that phone call ensured it would be.

  I hope.

  Shit.

  Naked and lounging in our private pool before check out, we sipped mimosas, which were fucking delicious and going to be a morning ritual if I could help it.

  While I explained that my first adult job has been with Travis, she nodded and smiled but I know his obsession with her pissed her off. Hell, it pissed me off too.

  Motherfucker was my own brother.

  And I explained my reluctance to even entertain meeting up with him and keep her hidden, she went on to say, he was family and family worked shit out.

  When I told her we'd handle it, that I'd quit and find a real job, she grinned right before she dropped a bomb on me.

  I know my jaw was wide open when Diva finally copped to her net worth.

  Using her hand to close my mouth she says softly, “It's just money, baby.”

  “Losing a five-spot on a lottery ticket is just money, sweet. What you got...”

  “Will keep us more than comfortable for ten lifetimes, Ty.”

  “I need to provide for my woman,” I defend.

  “You know,” she says holding my hands. “I am pretty famous and super rich.”

  “I'm aware.”

  “People attempt to do stupid shit to people with money.”

  “I'm aware of that too.” Wait til she meets my brother...

  “I may be good with a machine gun but I can't fight for shit. So I'm thinking it would be prudent to hire security.”

  “Security?”

  “And management.”

  “Management?” I blink, not following.

  “In other words, baby,” she says seductively. “You.”

  “Me?”

  Kissing my throat she chuckles, asking, “You following me, husband?”

  “Trying to,” I admit. “But you smell like orange juice and coconut oil. Your tits are...”

  “Show stoppers, I know,” she says placing my hands on her perfect breasts. “So what do you say? Want to protect me and my assets?”

  Clearing the sudden clog from my throat, I reply with, “Yes.”

  “That was easy,” she says eyeing my cock.

  “Not so fast,” I growl kneading her tits. “Let's talk benefits package and bonus plan.”

  Getting to her knees and leaning in she says, “Benefits. Having sex in exotic places, day drinking, yachts, jets, mandatory nudity, and never worrying about money. Bonus plan. My tits, my pussy, my mouth, and my ass.”

  “When do I start?”

  “How's now work for you?”

  “Is fucking my boss against policy?”

  Licking my nipple she says, “You'll find all terms of your contract in the manual.”

  And then she took my cock down the back of her throat.

  Before hitting the road, I slipped a couple of hundreds into a slot machine advising my husband to, “Tease those buttons for me.”

  “Rather tease your button,” he groans reluctantly sitting in the seat.

  “You have to try gambling at least once,” I chuckle at his pout.

  “I gamble every time we leave the room.”

  “How so?”

  “Trust me, sweet. Not killing every male that looks in your direction isn't easy. You're gambling with their lives just by being you.”

  “Aww,” I coo kissing his cheek. “Now play max bet.”

  Doing as I said, he hits the button and hell breaks loose. “The fuck is going on?” he asks over the machine that's screaming at us.

  “It's called a jackpot, baby!” I squeal in excitement.

  Five grand later, after I stuff all the cash in his pocket, we strut out of the casino and into the lobby hand-in-hand when I hear my name being called from a man's mouth. Pivoting, I see who it is and come up short. What are the fucking odds?

  “Oliver?” I say squeezing Ty's hand hard.

  “Want me to kill him?” my husband whispers loudly which is not actually whispering but just pretending to.

  “No,” I giggle at the situation.

  Rushing over to us, Oliver pulls me into a half hug, since my husband wasn't letting go and says, “Fuck, Dee, I've missed you.”

  “Uh,” I say pulling back. “Oliver this is Ty, my husband.”

  With a genuine smile I was not expecting, he extends his hand for a shake and I watch my man take it. “Married? That's amazing, Dee! Oh! Hang on, I want you to meet someone.”

  “You wanna make a run for it?” Ty asks with a smirk as we watch Oliver dart away.

  “No,” I smile back. “Meeting whoever it is—is the least I can do.”

  “He looks happy for you, sweet.”

  And he did, he really did.

  Dragging a tiny brunette behind him, Oliver reaches us, throws his arm over her shoulder announcing, “Dee, this is my wife, Olivia.”

  Oliver and Olivia. Of course it is.

  And she was everything I wasn't which made me so happy.

  Smiling at the couple, I was starting to worry about Olivia because when I reached out to shake her hand her face turned so red she looked ready to stroke out.

  “Is she okay?” I ask Oliver.

  Rubbing her back to calm her he says, “She's a fan.”

  “Ah.”

  It couldn't be helped. I had to hug her. Not for being a fan, but for loving Oliver.

  He deserved that.

  Only when my arms wrapped around her she started jumping up and down like she's been electrocuted and it was so jarring I bit my damn tongue.

  Gently pulling his wife away, Oliver asks, “Who wants a drink?”

  “We were just leaving,” I say taking my husband’s hand again.

  “But...” Olivia whines. “I want to be a part of your squad!”

  “I don't have a squad, honey,” I inform her. “But it was nice meeting you and congratulations.”

  “Dee,” Oliver says stepping closer. “You look happy.”

  Looking up at Ty, I answer, “I am happy.”

  We had made it a few steps when I hear Oliver whisper, “Thank you, Diva.”

  And then...

  We were a few steps further when we were cut off with, “Diva, is that you?”

  In synch, Ty and I turn to the left and I groan in embarrassment. “Kent, hi.”

  “It's Doctor,” he corrects haughtily and I wanted to slap him.

  “Whatever,” I say rolling my eyes. “Kent, this is my husband, Ty.”

  “Husband?” he says eyeing my man.

  “As in she's my wife,” Ty says stepping forward. “What kind of doc are you again?”

  “Gynecologist,” he says proudly. “I'm
in town for our annual conference.”

  “He said annual,” I snort so loud I turned heads.

  Looking down at me he smirks, “Shit, Diva, this guy? Really?”

  “Zip it,” I warn him and to Kent I say, “I'd say it's a pleasure but...”

  Leaning toward Kent, who was smart to cower, my husband says, “That labia belongs to me now.”

  Slapping his ass, we leave the doc standing there with his mouth open.

  Nearly to the door, I was close to a full out run when you guessed it.

  We were stopped again.

  This was the funniest shit I'd ever seen in my life.

  I never thought in a million years my wife would be embarrassed about anything.

  Especially not this. Not her past. Not sex.

  And as much as I can go full cave man without provocation, I wasn't jealous.

  She hadn't loved them.

  She saved that for me.

  Oliver, the doc... both good looking dudes, but certainly not me.

  They had shit on me.

  And I knew it.

  They fucking knew it too.

  So watching Diva trying to sprint through the lobby was hilarious.

  Especially when we heard her name again.

  Freezing in place she groans, “This isn't happening.”

  “It is, sweet,” I chuckle.

  “Ty,” she says planting her hands on her thick hips. “It's like the fucks of Christmas past!

  “Wife,” I say holding it in. “I'm sorry but, this is so fucking awesome.”

  “You find this funny?” she squawks adorably.

  “Look at them and look at me,” I say turning in a circle.

  “Fair,” she says with heated eyes. “Let's get this over with.”

  Facing the music together, she quickly shared his name just in time to see Tim waving enthusiastically and Diva offers him a pinky wave back. Taking that as a sign to come forward, he yanks her in to a hug, whispering, “Your man is a giant.”