Dirty Forever (The Dirty Suburbs Book 8)

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Dirty Forever (The Dirty Suburbs Book 8) Page 22

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller


  After a long beat of silence, my eight-year-old draws in a deep breath and brings his eyes to me. "Mommy, you will one day realize that when you connect with your inner bhakti, you no longer have to raise your voice to be heard."

  Before I can decide whether to be proud of him for saying something so profound or yell at him for being a little know-it-all, I hear Reuben's chuckle just over my shoulder.

  With a hand on his chest, I push my husband out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. "He's like the second coming of the Buddah, I swear."

  "You brought this on yourself. We could have had a regular insect-catching, football-playing knucklehead like everyone else's kids," Reuben teases, "but noooo – you had to send him to the Little Yogi's Summer Camp instead of traditional day camp."

  "Oh hush!" I say fighting off a smile. I take him in from head to toe. "Dammit – you're hot!"

  "Nice attempt to change the subject, Cinnamon," he says as he smooths a hand down my side until he's cupping my ass. "And by the way, you look delicious. I'm gonna have the time of my life eating you out when we get back from this fucking gala."

  I gasp as he pushes me into the wall and brings his mouth down on my neck. Sucking and kissing me there, he turns my temperature up a thousand degrees in three seconds flat. I hook my arms around him and pull him closer, swallowing down my moans as I get lost in him.

  The bathroom door bursts open and Reuben stumbles back. Our kid glowers at us. "When you focus all your energy on satisfying the flesh, you miss out on the opportunities around you to deepen your spirituality."

  Fighting not to laugh, Reuben ruffles our little boy's head of red hair. "Go grab your backpack, Mystic of Illinois."

  "Did you pack my prayer beads?"

  I try not to roll my eyes. "Honey, I don't think you need prayer beads tonight. Kiky's kids have a new video game system. I'm sure it'll be fun."

  Clover's expression drops in disappointment.

  Daddy comes to the rescue. "C'mon. Give the boy a minute to find his prayer beads!"

  Our son finally grins, revealing a mouth of teeth that are only halfway in, then he scampers down to his bedroom. "I'll just be a minute."

  Reuben whispers into my ear as he yanks me into our bedroom. "Come on, we've got about ten minutes until he's ready. Let's go make the most of it."

  Blakely

  "I've been calling Isla for the past ten minutes. No answer." I glance at Nicholas with a worried expression.

  "Oh relax," he tells me. "It'll all be fine."

  I really hate being the center of attention and I hate giving speeches. I'm a writer. A Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. I like hiding out in my writing cave. But my best friend's husband came up with the brilliant idea of throwing me on stage in front of a roomful of people tonight and tossing an award at me. This should go charmingly!

  Nicholas pulls the zipper up the back of my slim-fitting navy blue gown and places a kiss behind my ear. "I'll be right there next to you," he whispers.

  "Right..." I pull in a deep breath.

  Over the past 10 years, Nicholas has been right there next to me. Every step of the way. He's my partner in life, in love and in business. And I'm all the same things to him.

  Just for a second, I allow myself to wonder what my life would have been like if we'd never met. I would have probably still been hiding out in my shell, afraid of my own shadow. Hell, I would have probably still been a virgin. One thing's for sure, I would not be included in this evening's gala if I hadn't met my wonderful husband.

  Being with him has opened up a whole world of opportunity and possibility for me. Being with him has helped me reach my potential in so many ways.

  I look into his handsome face and smile. "Done with your inner pep talk?" he asks knowingly as he stretches out his arm to me.

  "Done with my inner pep talk," I tell him with a smile and loop my arm through his.

  He kisses me softly on the corner of my mouth. "Okay then. Let's go. I'm eager to show you off."

  I laugh. "Oh really?"

  "You're the thing that blue balls are made of. Especially in that dress!" He adjusts his crotch. "Trust me, baby. I'm living it!"

  Faith

  I pull my fingers from Maxwell's and fan my face with my hand as we walk up the stairs leading to the venue. "I really wanna take my clothes off," I whine. "I really, really do."

  My husband chuckles. "Doll Face, as much as I'm sure the rest of Reyfield would love to see you naked, that's a privilege I guard fiercely for myself."

  #Swoon

  My boo still knows how to sweet talk me, after all these years. "Look, at you blushing," he says with a chuckle as a man in an impeccable black suit holds the door open and welcomes us by name.

  Mr. and Mrs. Masters. I still love the sound of that.

  Nodding to thank him, we step through the front door. Several people go out of their way take our coats and welcome my husband.

  "I'm not blushing. I'm burning up," I tell him, raising my voice above the buzz of the crowd. "I'm. So. Hot."

  Maxwell taps the elbow of a pretty, young woman balancing a tray of drinks as she weaves through the crowd. "Can you please get my wife a glass of sparkling water?"

  With a nod and a smile, she says, "Of course, Mr. Masters."

  I giggle as the girl scuttles away. "Of course, Mr. Masters."

  "Don't be snarky." He pokes me in the ribs.

  Covering my mouth with my hands, I conceal my laughter. "Sorry, it's just funny seeing everybody sucking up to you right now like you're a high priest or something. I mean just an hour ago, your face was buried in my ass."

  He pinches my butt hard as his lips come close to my ears. "And forty-five minutes ago, my cock was buried in your ass. So what's your point?"

  I yelp at the sting. Oh jeez -- my ass isn't too discriminating, is it?

  Prescott Brooks shows up right beside us with his lovely wife on his arm. "Everything okay over here?" the new mayor asks.

  "The wife's giving me a hard time," Maxwell explains as the men shake hands. Annaleigh and I exchange a cordial kiss on the cheek.

  "Wives tend to do that," Prescott says, "Even when you're the retired hall-of-famer of the Iowa Paragons and the primary donor of Reyfield's very first museum."

  Maxwell grins wide. "Even then...And you're not doing too bad yourself. I didn't get to congratulate you on your win, Mr. Mayor. Congratulations on your re-election!"

  The server shows up and hands me my sparkling water. "Oh boy," I mutter to Annaleigh. "They're about to do that guy-thing, right? Where they talk about sports and politics and bore the women to tears?"

  She laughs as she guides me away. "Come, let's get away from them." Her hand drops to my rounded baby bump. "Let's go chitchat so I can give you all the unsolicited motherhood advice you'll ever need."

  "Sounds like a plan," I say as we step into the main room.

  Samantha

  "I feel like we’re forgetting something..." Keeland mutters as he sinks behind the wheel of our family SUV.

  I glance at our two kids in the back seat. "Well, we've got the little humans so I'd say we'd better go. We're going to be late."

  That’s probably the biggest thing I’ve learned since becoming a mother. You will always be forgetting something, you will always be late in getting somewhere. But as long as the little humans are still in your custody and they’re still breathing, then you must be doing something right.

  We give Hannah and Melody hugs and kisses as we drop them off at Lily’s farm and they promise to play nice with the boys even though they indisputably have the cooties. Just as we’re driving up the bumpy lane back toward the main road, Keeland stops in the middle of the road.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, glancing over at him across the cabin.

  He grins wickedly. “This is the first time I’ve had you alone in weeks. What do you think I’m doing?”

  Oh my god. I know that we’re in a car in a semi-public place right now, but I
really like the way he thinks.

  “Take me now!” I pronounce dramatically as I whip off my seatbelt and climb into his lap.

  We kiss frantically. I reach blindly for his zipper as he pushes up the hem of my taffeta skirt. I swear, every time we have sex, it’s like there’s a big clock hanging above us, counting down to the inevitable interruption that will pop up before we get to the peak.

  Just as I’m about to position myself over my husband’s rock hard cock, a pair of blinding headlights turn onto the dirt lane. An impatient horn sounds out.

  Keeland drops his head to my chest, sobbing tearlessly. “Will I ever touch your pussy again?”

  I laugh as I climb out of his lap and he moves the car to the side. Jakob’s pickup truck pulls up right beside us and the window comes down. “Hey guys,” Lily’s husband smirks.

  “Hey,” we say less than enthused.

  I glance over at Jakob and this farmer cleans up well. He's a whole different man in his suit and trimmed beard.

  “Just realized that I forgot the damn speech Lily wanted me to read tonight.” He laughs. “She’d kill me if I didn’t come back for it because she reminded me a million times before I left.”

  We laugh, too. “See you at the party,” Keeland says as he starts the car again.

  “Hey,” Jakob calls out. “Me and Lily would be glad to watch your kids for a weekend because it looks like the two of you need some alone time.”

  Keeland looks like he’s about to pounce on the offer but I stop him quickly, clasping my hand over his. “That’s sweet of you but we can’t accept.”

  Jakob laughs, seeing right through my ulterior motive. “Don’t worry, Sammie. We won’t ask you to return the favor. Only Aunt Grace and Aunt Faith can actually put up with my six luciferian kids for more than a few hours.”

  I breathe out a sigh of relief. Jakob and Lily’s kids are a bit…much. Especially the one with the lisp.

  “Well, in that case," I say hastily, "how does next weekend sound?” I love my kids but I’m so ready to jump their dad’s bones.

  The farmer clucks at my excitement. “Call me on Thursday,” he says as he rolls his truck down the bumpy lane back toward the farmhouse. "We'll firm up the details then."

  Once we get to the venue, I leave Keeland with Maxwell and Faith and make a beeline for the ladies’ room to put myself back together. I’m sure that my lipstick got all smudged in my rather disappointing game of ‘seven seconds in heaven’ with my husband.

  Pausing for a moment in the hallway, I admire a large exhibit of photographs of tattoos done by Keeland. Celebrities from far and wide make their way to Reyfield to get inked by Master Kee and here it is on display. I’m so proud of my man.

  With a smile on my face, I walk into the washroom and step up to the mirror. There’s a pair of dentures on the counter. I reapply my makeup and pay the dentures no mind until Nancy comes hobbling into the ladies’ room, gripping her walker tightly.

  “Hey Nance, how ya doing?” I ask as I give her a hand with the door.

  She wears a worried expression on her face. “Have you seen Delores, dear? Edward and I have been looking for her for nearly an hour now. She’s been having fainting spells and I hate letting her out of my sight.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “I just got here. I haven’t seen her.”

  Then her eyes fall on the set of false teeth on the counter. “Any idea who those dentures belong to?”

  Just as I’m about to tell her that I don’t know, the door to the handicapped stall swings open and Delores’ blinged-out mobility scooter rolls out.

  Followed by the mobility scooter of some old dude I’ve never seen before.

  I gasp so hard it hurts my ribs.

  “Delores!” Nancy scolds her friend as the man rolls out of the room wearing the widest grin on his face.

  With an equal smile, Delores drives up to counter and rinses off the dentures. “Oh those are mine,” she says matter-of-factly. “I had to take them off when my new friend and I were playing earlier.” She winks.

  Ugh! Will that woman ever change?

  Nancy rolls her eyes. “Delores, I’m going to have to introduce you to Edward’s friend, Roy.”

  The scowl on Delores face is blatant. “Ewww Roy? He’s like 100 years old.”

  “He is,” Nancy says pointedly. “And, it’s time for you to settle down. You’re too damn old to be trolling the community center for cock.”

  “Oh don’t judge me,” Delores groans. “This is who I am. You can’t teach an old bitch new tricks.”

  Nancy just glares.

  “You’re so boring since you married Edward’s saggy balls,” Delores huffs. “Okay, okay. Introduce me to Roy. But if he has erectile dysfunction, I will not be held accountable for my actions.”

  On that traumatic note, it’s time for me to get out of here. “I’ll see you ladies during the ceremony,” I say as I hurry back to the party.

  Annaleigh

  A loud round of applause rings out as Daniel Trotten steps onto the small platform at the front of the room. He hasn’t practiced law for several years but in his classic navy suit, tonight he looks like he hasn’t missed a day. He clears his throat and begins to speak.

  “Ten years ago, Prescott Brooks and I were both junior partners at Richards, Ross and Associates. For private reasons which, if I’m honest, I had a hard time keeping private because c’mon, this is Reyfield” — The audience chuckles at the epic almost divorce of Daniel and his wife — “I left my position while Prescott continued to rise in the ranks at the firm. He did a formidable job and as you know, but for his outstanding work in the Shinewell vs. Town of Reyfield case, we’d all be standing in a landfill right now instead of Reyfield’s very own Museum of Modern History.”

  The crowd breaks out into cheers again and my heart fills with pride as I glance over at my husband who stands off to the side of the stage. He worked hard and it was a balancing act for our family during that period but it was all worth it in retrospect. We’re happier and stronger for it.

  Daniel continues. “Not only did the legal team led by my friend Prescott prevent the establishment of a landfill right on this very plot of land, they were also instrumental in taking down the town’s corrupt mayor at the time. And I’m so glad that we, the people of Reyfield saw fit to elect him as our mayor, two terms in a row. Well deserved. He’s an outstanding politician.”

  The applause is even more intense this time around. Blakely leans across the table and pats my arm in a show of support.

  Daniel wears a look of feigned jealousy. “Hey! I didn’t do too bad for myself, either. My self-help book, The Miraculous Transformation...From Indomitable Legal Shark to Scared P*ssy in the Blink of an Eye, stayed on the New York Times bestsellers list for six weeks in a row! Ninety-nine cents this week only in ebook format. Grab your copy now!”

  More laughs and applause.

  “Okay, okay.” He motions for the crowd to simmer down. “Tonight isn’t about Prescott and it isn’t about me. It’s about the outstanding members of our community who deserve recognition for their contributions over the past few years. So, I’ll pass the floor to my friend, Mayor Prescott Brooks.”

  I’m first to leap to my feet, cheering my man on. He strides on to the stage and that powerful body sure knows how to fill in a business suit. My!

  “You see why I requested that Daniel Trotten introduce me tonight?” Prescott addresses the crowd with a laughing voice. “The man makes me look good! Thank you, sir!”

  More laughter.

  “As my friend said, tonight is about honouring the members of our community who deserve to be acknowledged for their contributions. People like retired footballer, Maxwell Masters, who has made enormous financial contributions to this town and its various institutions including this very museum.”

  We all cheer loudly. Maxwell has been extremely generous to the town over the past few years as he rose to the top of the league and eventually retired to coa
ch college teams instead.

  “People like Blakely and Nicholas Sullivan, who have done an extraordinary job of creating a software company that addresses the cognitive and creative needs of their users.”

  More applause. Blakely and Nicholas’s company has developed an impressive list of educational and productivity apps that help anyone from sufferers of Asperger’s Syndrome, writers, teachers and even taxi drivers. I am so proud of my best friend.

 

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