“Mmmmm,” Molly hummed wantonly against the small of his back, her body moving restlessly over his shoulder as her legs scissored impatiently.
“Alright, my little minx,” Devil rumbled playfully, crossing the room in a long fluid stride to dump his precious burden in the center of the bed, “I guess I’m gonna need to remind you that he who conquers the golden pussy calls all the shots!”
“Did you see that on a fortune cookie somewhere, Confucius?” Molly giggled as her body bounced on the center of the mattress.
Devil’s laughter joined Molly’s as he crawled up the bed and straddled his wife’s body, his cock bobbing above her glowing face. “Alright smartass, why don’t you use that mouth and those lips for good rather than to bust my balls?”
“Ooooohhhh, you said balls,” Molly drawled, lifting one hand to cradle Devil’s twin sacs as her tongue flicked over the head of his penis.
Torn between laughter and tears at her bad joke, Devil drove a hand into his wife’s long curly red hair and tugged suggestively. “Less talking and more blowing, woman. You’re killing me here. I don’t remember the last time I felt those velvety lips wrapped around me.” Actually, Devil knew that was a lie. It had been nine weeks, three days, and approximately ten hours – not that he was counting or anything. All that mattered was the hot, horrible drought was over at long last!
At least, it SHOULD have been over.
If he and Molly had been living in a perfect world.
Which, clearly, they weren’t.
Because, apparently, he must have been a serial killer in a previous life.
Whoever said ‘man plans while God laughs’ knew exactly what the fuck of which they were speaking.
Groaning as his dick slid to the back of his wife’s throat, both of them froze, staring at each other with wide, horrified eyes as they both heard the unlucky thirteen words guaranteed to effectively and irrevocably call a halt to any and all festivities that might have been on the cusp of occurring.
“MOLLY, CHICA, THE WEDDING IS OFF!! I need you. Ahora! Este minuto, niña!” a slightly accented male voice shrieked hysterically, each word growing increasingly desperate and high pitched. .
“Ah, c’mon! This can’t be happening,” Devil nearly whimpered as he recognized the unexpected visitor’s voice as he stared down at his wife with something closely resembling betrayal. “You gave that man a key?” he bit out. “Why do you hate me so much, Molly? Why?”
“Don’t act like you don’t remember, Devil! We discussed in-depth this last year. I gave keys to a few people, and they are supposed to be used for emergencies,” Molly hissed, lifting a hand to shove her husband off her. “I’d say by the volume of what our friend just said, this qualifies!”
“He’s my assistant, Molly. He’s your friend. Try to get that distinction straight in your head,” he demanded churlishly as Molly sprinted back to the bathroom to grab her robe.
“Okay, now you’re just being a big ol’ baby,” she called back. “And don’t you ever let Armando here you say anything like that – especially tonight! I swear to God, husband, if you make whatever the hell’s happened tonight worse in any way, I will personally request lessons from your Nana on how to beat you to death with her wooden spoon! Are we clear?” she hissed, tossing him a pair of flannel sleep pants and a tee shirt as she stomped back into the bedroom.
“Crystal,” Devil snarled back at his wife, snatching his clothes out of mid-air. Was it just him or did anyone else hear the maniacal cackling of that bitch named Fate?
Scorched: Chapter Five
Molly
Molly knew Devil was disappointed by the unplanned intrusion into their special night, but honest to God, she only had so much energy. Right now, she had a feeling she would need every bit of remaining strength she still maintained to deal with whatever calamity her highly emotionally challenged friend was facing. Devil would just have to schedule his nervous breakdown for another time. She was only one person, damn it.
“Will you please shake a tail feather over there? Moss is gonna start growin’ under your feet if you move any slower!” she griped impatiently as Devil shoved a foot into his pajama bottoms. “He’s waiting!” she added while she shoved her foot into some comfy slippers. “And he sounds horrible,” she muttered when she cracked open the bedroom door and Mannie’s wails become substantially louder. Reaching for her phone on the dresser, she quickly sent out an emergency text to the wedding posse. It appeared it was time for them to circle the wagons around Armando.
“He’s gonna feel worse when I get my hands around his scrawny neck,” Devil vowed grimly, his words a little muffled by the black tee shirt he was pulling over his head. “It’s freakin’ midnight, Molly. His meltdown couldn’t be postponed until morning? I mean, really, if the wedding is off now, I’m willing to bet it’ll still be off at say, eightish.”
“You better get down on your knees and pray to whatever dark deity you’re currently worshiping that isn’t true, Devil. I just prepaid the seafood shop for three hundred cracked lobsters yesterday and I can assure you that deposit is non-refundable!” Molly hissed, glaring at her husband as he stormed toward her.
“Molly, may I remind you that we served crab cakes at our wedding. Not fucking lobster! Would you like to explain that to me?” Devil asked, eyes narrowing.
Molly’s lips twitched as she watched Devil try to remain calm. The muscle in his jaw was jumpin’ and that vein in his forehead was throbbing, but she’d give him credit. He was doing a remarkable job of modulating his tone. She should really try and be nice. She knew that.
Of course, that just wouldn’t be like her at all.
“It’s simple, honey,” Molly replied sweetly. “I like Armando and Nick much better than I like you.”
“Clearly,” Devil retorted, reaching for the silver door knob and jerking their bedroom door open before gesturing for Molly to precede him.
Molly led the way down the upstairs hallway to the staircase, Mannie’s sobs growing shriller with every step. Grimacing at the earsplitting noises, Molly barely heard Devil’s groan behind her.
“Good God, Mols. That attention whore is gonna get every damn dog in the neighborhood howling at this rate. If you think the neighborhood association was hard on the two of us when Coco and Chanel got loose to terrify the villagers, imagine how hard it will be to spring Armando from the pound. Do something!”
She wanted to scream at her husband for his insensitivity, but he had a point. They had paid hell when their Pekingese dog and Siamese cat had decided to paint the subdivision red a few months ago. And they’d almost never convinced those animal control people that their persnickety pets were perfectly harmless. So instead of arguing with her headstrong hubby, she lifted her robe, picked up her pace and called, “Mannie, we’re coming, sweetie! Just hold on a sec!”
Hurrying down the stairs, Molly skidded to a halt as she reached the doorway to the living room. Her jaw dropped as she got a look at her best guy friend. “What the hell happened to your face, Mannie?” she shouted, her gaze glued to the huge set of raccoon eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d left earlier in the night. “Oh, my God, did somebody hit you?”
“Forget his face; what the hell happened to his clothes?” Molly heard Devil ask from behind her.
“Devil,” Molly hissed in warning, sparing a second to glare at her husband.
“What?” Devil yelped indignantly. Waving his arm at the bright orange ‘Frankie Say Relax’ tank top, slouchy grey sweats and battered flip flops Armando wore, he continued, “I might be straight, but I’m secure enough in my manhood to be comfortable saying that ensemble is without a doubt a fashion don’t.”
“I’m going to kill you, Devil,” Molly informed her husband threateningly.
“No, no, he’s right, Molly,” Armando whimpered brokenly, tears still running down his handsome swarthy face. “I know I look like mierda. I was in such a hurry to get out of Nick’s apartment, I put on the first thing I gra
bbed.”
“Does your future husband only wear clothes from 1984?” Devil asked dryly, eyeing the dated tank top critically.
Smacking Devil’s arm, Molly growled, “Seriously, Dev. Yours will be a particularly bloody death. I’ll make sure of it.” Turning her attention back to Armando, she took a half step toward him and lifted a hand to point at his eyes. “What about those bruises? What happened there?” she questioned worriedly.
“Bruises,” Mannie echoed blankly, turning to peer into the ornamental mirror on the wall above their walnut liquor cabinet. Wailing as he got a look at his refection, he stomped his foot in a fit of temper. “Those putas at the Clinique counter promised me that eyeliner was waterproof. Lying perras!” he snarled, vigorously rubbing at the runny makeup. “I look like a fucking raccoon, Molly,” he shrieked.
Quickly crossing the room to reach her frantic friend before he could gouge out his eyes, Molly soothed, “Hey, we’ll fix it.” Reaching for a napkin from the liquor cabinet, she poured some bottled water over it and began to dab at Mannie’s eyes. “Everything can be fixed, Armando,” she repeated gently.
“No. I’m afraid you’re wrong this time, mi amiga. Some things can’t be fixed no matter how hard you try. Sometimes, people are just too broken to piece together again once they shatter,” Armando whispered, shaking his head sadly as he bent his head and began to cry again.
Shooting Devil a startled look, Molly tossed the napkin in the trash and dragged Mannie toward the couch. “You listen to me. You are NOT broken, Armando Savage. I don’t know what the hell Nick said to you, but….”
“Oh! I am not the broken one, Chiquita. Nicholas is the broken mentiroso, little Molly! He is a fool! Idiota!” Armando declared passionately.
Moving closer, Devil rolled his eyes at his wife before shaking his head at his executive assistant. “Look, Armando, man, I’m gonna need you to stick to English if you want either of us to follow you on this.”
Glaring at Devil, Armando lifted his chin defiantly. “I said that your vice presidente is an idiot and a fool! And apparently he intends to cuckold me,” Mannie declared, thumping his chest for emphasis.
Looking at Molly, Devil shrugged his shoulders. “I’m lost, Molly. Are you lost, because I’m surely lost?”
Waving off her husband’s theatrics, Molly instead chose to concentrate on Armando. “Honey, why is Nick a fool? What happened? Start from the beginning…start when you left our house,” she ordered, knowing that unless he did, he’d continue to rattle on aimlessly for hours.
“Good God, Molly, are you trying to keep us here all night?” Devil complained as the doorbell rang. Looking over his shoulder, he stared at the front door incredulously. “Who the hell could that be?” he asked as he watched the door knob turn.
“I told you not to ring the bell,” Molly heard their friend Sami grumble as both she and Vivian stepped into the foyer.
“Polite people from good families ring the bell, Samantha,” Vivian said with a yawn.
“Well, that’s the problem,” Sami said with a dismissive flick of her fingers, “I’m almost never polite.”
Devil turned back to Molly, his face irate. “You gave them keys, TOO?” he roared.
“Of course she gave us keys,” Sami returned carelessly before Molly could open her mouth. “We’re her best friends.”
“You’re not my friend, Samantha,” Devil returned stiffly. “Right now, you’re the bane of my existence. We’ve already got a manic Mexican here; I don’t think I can handle a malicious model, too,” he sneered. Nodding toward the woman standing beside Sami, Devil’s tone turned affable. “Good evening, Vivian.”
“Hello, Devil. Sorry it’s so late. Molly texted and said we had a wedding apocalypse to avert,” Vivian explained.
“See,” Sami jeered, “We were invited guests.”
“Yes, and in that vein, guests – invited or otherwise - ring the doorbell before busting into someone’s house,” Vivian stated vehemently with a narrow look at Sami. “What if Devil had had a gun?”
“A gun. Now that’s not a half bad idea. I knew you were my favorite, Vivian,” Devil informed Vivian with a wide smile before turning toward his wife. “See, Mol? Some people understand that the emergency key does not mean free entry at any moment. What a novel idea!”
Molly saw their situation was rapidly spinning out of control, and if she didn’t act fast, the police were going to have a mass murder on their hands. She just wasn’t exactly sure who the culprit would be. Honestly, they all looked like viable suspects to her, she thought silently, looking around the occupants of the room. Patting Mannie’s firm thigh reassuringly, she rose from the couch. “Okay, you three, enough. We’ve apparently had a matrimonial meltdown and Mannie was just getting ready to share the details,” she said, exchanging a meaningful look with both women.
Tossing her long blonde hair back over one shoulder, Sami nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’ve got no problem at all making that stud a gelding if that’s what Mannie wants though. I always said that man of yours was too pretty to be considered safe,” she muttered, pacing the room.
“Let’s not whip out our scalpels just yet, Sami. Maybe this situation is salvageable,” Vivian said quickly, following Sami into the living room and sitting down on Armando’s other side.
“He’s not pretty; he’s striking. There’s a difference,” Armando defended his love, offering Sami a hard look.
“Nick spends as much time on his hair as I do, Mannie,” Sami scoffed. “Trust me, he’s pretty. And he’s dead, too, if he’s hurt you. We will cut a bitch if we need to,” she added menacingly.
“I love you, too. Even if you are a bloodthirsty diva in heels,” Armando replied huskily with a watery smile. “But nobody is sticking my Nicky with anything unless I’m the one giving it to him.”
Molly tried desperately to keep a straight face as she looked at her friend. “You didn’t hear that in your head before you said it, did you, sweetie?” Watching as Armando silently reran his statement, she saw the moment he got it.
“You are a filthy hermana, you know that?” Mannie giggled, his face looking carefree for a brief moment.
“You said it, not me,” Molly smirked as Sami and Vivian joined in the laughter. Waiting until the cackles subsided, Molly canted her head as she stared at the man beside her. “Now, why don’t you tell us what’s going on,” she suggested patiently, avoiding her husband’s irritated gaze as he, too, took a seat in the leather wingback chair in the corner. She noted that he was close enough to hear them, but far enough away to get away with not actually participating in the conversation. In other words, her mulish man wanted to eavesdrop.
Mannie released a shaky, dramatic sigh as he flopped back into the overstuffed cushions of the extra-long couch, his tank top billowing around him. “Oh, Molly, my little lovey lumpkins has made a fool out of me. Of all the fast ones he could have pulled out of his pockets, this was the worst.” Thumping his chest, he whispered haggardly. “It hurts… like a dagger through my heart, chica. This pain’s so bad, mi amigas.” Taking a deep breath, he audibly swallowed before he continued. “My Nicholas…he’s not who I thought he was, Molly.”
Thinking the worst, Molly clutched Armando’s hand in hers. “Tell me that son of a bitch did not point his pecker at another rooster,” she demanded as she suddenly visualized hanging Nick Santino from the highest tree she could find in Atlanta.
“Because I’ll make that rooster into a hen real fast, sweetie. That’s a promise from me to you,” Samantha vowed in a tone that was equal parts forbidding and ruthless.
Moaning loudly in a way that seemed to stretch from one end of the room to the other, he whimpered, “No, no, no, noooooo … My Nicky only parks his penis in my garage. It’s much worse than some tawdry affair!”
Molly couldn’t quite think of anything that could compare to the damage cheating would do to a relationship, but she was here for Mannie. “Then what is it, darlin’?” she queried gently.<
br />
“My man, he is ashamed of me, chicas. He is embarrassed to call me his own. Humiliated to be involved with your Armando. Aarrrghhhh… it hurts so much to admit that. Even to my best friends.”
“What?” the entire room erupted in surprised unison as Molly silently noted that even her husband had straightened at that explanation. “Mannie, honey, that just can’t be right,” Molly murmured, shaking her head slowly. “Are you sure there hasn’t been some kind of crossed wires that have caused you to misunderstand each other?”
“It’s true!” Mannie wailed pitifully. “His parents don’t even know about me! They didn’t even know I existed until I answered the phone. I’m talking completely clueless. He’s never so much as mentioned my name to either of them. Not the fact that we’ve worked together for years. Not the fact that we’ve been seriously dating for years. Not the fact that we’ve been living together for years. And they certainly didn’t know that I’m engaged to be married to that lying liar they created together! I’m his dirty little gay secret! His mother thought I was playing some kind of practical joke on her. She laughed, Molly. Or, she was laughing until I got her attention and offered to tell her in detail what her little boy did to me last night in bed. That got her attention! She preceded to call me a deviant and demanded that I stay away from her son! I live there, Mols! How the hell am I supposed to stay away from my own place?” he sobbed maniacally. “And she thinks I’m a gold digger. Freeloading off Nicky when he’s not around.
The Sizzle Saga Page 47