Both Tori and Antoine threw up their hands in frustration.
Antoine raised his eyes to hers, silently asking if she wanted him to make it. She didn’t. Tori put the water on to boil.
“And then he said?” she hedged, encouraging Luke to finish.
“Well,” Luke continued, “he asked me if I wanted to live with him forever. I don’t. This is my home.”
He scuffed his shoes against the wood floor. “Then he said, ‘Now with Honey gone, there’s just one more person between us all being a family.’”
Us. Tori’s heart beat against her ribs like a drum. Her kids alone with him. Forever.
The bastard was right, though. The only person protected was Christian. The rest of the kids didn’t have a father listed on their birth certificate. Hell. It never occurred to her that Richard would be eligible. If anything happened to her, Richard was technically next of kin and could get custody of Luke and the twins, and there’d be nothing anyone could do about it.
“Baby, you know nothing is going to happen to me, right?” She left the stove, ruffled Luke’s hair, and placed a bowl in front of him. “I’m fine.”
Luke’s face held no expression, no smile. He didn’t lean into her touch. Instead, he folded his arms on the kitchen table. “She’d been there.”
Tori paused mid-ruffle. “Who?”
“Gran,” Luke replied.
“No, baby, she wouldn’t have gone there. She couldn’t have.” However, she’d learned so much tonight about what her mom had done. Anything was possible at this point. But her mom going back to the man who did so much damage—what was she thinking?
“He made me cook for him. The spices. We always knew Gran had been in the house because of how the spices were arranged.”
“Maybe she got that from him,” Tori explained. “They did live together.”
Luke reached into his pocket. The clank of metal against wood reverberated through the room. Antoine and Tori walked forward, eyes glued to the ring as if it was made of platinum instead of gold, as if it came from Tiffany’s instead of Target. From her position, Tori could even read the inscription—’until death.’
It was the promise ring that Richard had given Honey one month into their relationship. He told her that they were going to add the rest when they could afford it. That was until she realized Richard meant that death part.
The “no” rang in her head before it fell out of her mouth. “No. No. No. She had a car accident. It was an accident, just an accident.”
Antoine placed his hand firmly on her shoulder as if its presence alone could hold her together.
She whispered, “I saw her car. I identified her body.” There wasn’t evidence of anyone else on the road, but with Richard in the mix …. Was it too late to reopen the investigation? “My God, this changes everything, doesn’t it?”
Luke didn’t move, didn’t stir, except for his eyes. The color deepened. “He couldn’t live, Mom.”
Antoine’s head snapped to Luke.
The words swam through the ocean of pain before reaching Tori. Wait. Did Luke say—“Luke?”
Luke picked up the ring, spun it on the table before slapping it down flat. He repeated the process. Tori felt Antoine stiffen with movement.
“He uses flavored snuff, puts it in his cheek. He kept a box in the cabinet with the spices. Didn’t make any sense, but he did. So, I would just plop some in that boiling water when he wasn’t looking, then some more.” Spin. Slap. “Then I strained it like tea and served … with honey.” Spin. Slap.
The house seemed to expand with a long creak. Antoine weaved his fingers into hers. Please, God, have mercy.
“I made him tea,” he reiterated.
Tori gripped Antoine’s hand tighter. “Nicotine tea?”
Luke shrugged. “It’s all I could find. Added honey. Lots of honey. He had two glasses.”
Tori began to tremble. “How did you get home?”
Luke tapped his foot and stared at that ring. Finally, Tori leaned over after one spin and slapped it herself.
“How did you get home?” she demanded.
“Hitched, but with a family I found at a gas station.” He explained, “It was fine. Told them my dad left me on the road. It only took us a half an hour to get here.”
Tori didn’t know if she could bear hearing the answer to the next question. Taking a deep breath to seal her reserve, she inquired. “What happened to Richard?”
Luke raised one shoulder and let it fall.
Antoine tried next. “What was he doing when you left?”
Luke’s gaze remained downcast. “I just left when he was throwing up, squirming on the ground.”
Tori turned to Antoine. “So, we don’t even know if he’s dead?”
Luke continued to stuff his face as he told the story. One look from Antoine and she regulated her breathing.
“He was sick. Throwing up. Laughing,” Luke stilled, “He watched me leave, but he said, ‘My blood. You’re definitely my blood.’”
Tori kept her head down, staring at the table. Luke, who normally ignored everything around him, stared between Antoine and Tori. “Uncle Ant, did I do good?”
Antoine’s eyes softened, but his tone was measured. “You made it back home to us. You did great.”
How Antoine managed to smile and give him a soft punch in the shoulder was beyond Tori, but she had to get it together.
Luke pushed a spoonful of soup through a huge smile.
She relaxed her expression. “Baby, I’m just so glad to have you home. Are you sure I can’t hug you once?”
Luke sighed, “Fine, but after that and I finish my noodles, can we go over to Nanny’s house with the kids? Gotta apologize to the girls for missing their snack. They were upset, weren’t they?”
Tori held Luke tightly even though he squirmed. As sure as the devil roamed the night earth, she had a son who attempted murder and possibly killed a man.
Luke pulled back.
Tori told him, “Go wash up and change clothes and then we’ll leave.”
His eyes brightened as he ran upstairs.
Monique told her that Luke himself changed the game. They had something more powerful to fear. Her son could have more than just a bit too much asshole. He might actually be Richard’s progeny—not in name, but in deed. The bit of asshole Luke inherited from his father was nothing. Through her, Luke had Richard’s blood.
The sound of the fridge kicking back on broke the silence in the room.
Antoine pulled her to him and rubbed her arms as tears ran freely down her cheeks. His voice firm as he declared, “We can’t go to the police, not with that story.”
Tori put her arms around Antoine and held tight. For the first time in a long time, she had nothing. No plan of action, no next steps. She asked, “What do we do?”
“You take Luke to my mom’s,” Antoine stated.
Tori felt the resolution stiffen Antoine’s body. She tried to stop his decision. “No.”
“I’ll get the directions from Luke,” he said. Tori tried to pull away, but Antoine held firm. “I’ll handle this.”
What other choice did they have? Tori’s body softened in submission. “You’ll have to get his cell phone too.”
This time she eased out of his arms, feeling the handle of the gun in the small of his back. She went under the kitchen sink for a pair of rubber gloves. Regardless of what Antoine found now or what the police found later, what wouldn’t be there were Antoine’s fingerprints.
They sat down on the living room couch, hands firmly clasped, waiting for Luke.
Tori leaned her head on Antoine’s shoulder. How the hell was he going to love them through this?
His & Hers
Raw Sugar
S. L. Jennings
Chapter 1
A montage of soft satin, sheer lace, and delicate silk lay in disarray on the floor, tangled in its own seductive dance. A testament of things to come. An omen of the wickedness that lay in wait fo
r them this evening.
Lauren knew this was a bad idea. They had just hit a rough spot in their marriage. Every couple did. Add two very demanding careers to the incessant ticking of her biological clock; no wonder she and Marcus, her husband of ten years, couldn’t shake the monotony both in and out of the bedroom.
Yet here they were, pushing the boundaries of their inhibitions until they whined and groaned before eventually shattering into a million jagged pieces. Together, they were going farther than they had ever been, embarking on forbidden eroticism with trembling hands and timid tongues. Testing the limits of social decency and following the urges that had laid dormant in their souls.
Lauren and Marcus were having a threesome.
His
Marcus wanted this. Hell, he wanted this so bad he throbbed for it. He wanted the thrill of seeing his wife shudder with pleasure … pleasure she received from someone else. Pleasure that would no doubt push him over the edge until he couldn’t resist the urge to join. Not just a fantasy, this was a necessity, no matter how sick and twisted that made him.
Truth be told, he had always been a bit of a voyeur. But he had never thought about sharing the woman he had built his life with. Hell no, not his angel. But things had been off with them for months. Between his long hours at the firm and the financial ups and downs of Lauren’s flower shop, they hardly had time for sex. When they did, it was no more than a five-minute lay. He craved more, and tonight, he was going to get it.
Marcus watched as Lauren’s bra fell to the floor, revealing swollen, heavy breasts. Damn, they were beautiful. Perky, full, soft. Just seeing her nipples harden with expectation had him aching. She’d always had the most amazing breasts. Time and gravity had not sullied his view. And watching someone else’s hands cup and caress them had him going insane.
He wrapped his hand around his length, feeling the hard flesh pulse against his palm through his slacks. Lauren’s hooded eyes found his before sliding down to his erection. She licked her lips and moaned as a tongue traced her jaw.
“Come,” a husky voice crooned, extending a hand to him. Yeah, playing out secret fantasies in voyeurism was great, but joining in on the pleasure? Feeling two sets of lips, four hands, two tongues? That was Marcus’s ultimate fantasy.
Lauren had her reservations about this, and honestly, so did he. He didn’t love the idea of sharing his woman with someone else. Just the thought of her screaming out another name in a haze of unadulterated ecstasy reignited his doubts. But he loved Lauren. So much so that he could not deny her pleasure that could only be realized with two lovers. He couldn’t be selfish with her, not when she was so willing to be selfless when it came to pleasing him.
Hers
Lauren bit her pouty, full lip as she waited for Marcus to accept the invitation. Would he think less of her? Would he misconstrue her compliance as eagerness? The thought of having sex with someone other than her husband scared her yet excited her, kindling a fire deep within that she hadn’t felt in years.
She’d always had unconventional desires, but never dared act on them. She couldn’t risk being judged by her friends, her family, her church, and most of all, her husband. But watching him, fully erect, ready, and as burning hot as she was, only solidified what she had always felt in her heart. She could do this. It was okay. It didn’t make her dirty or depraved.
She was still a good person.
By the time Marcus claimed his place in their little triangle of delicious deviance, Lauren thought she might burst right then and there. Here she was, panting, moaning, damn near whimpering, as hands massaged her round backside, moving down between her thighs in search of the humid flesh that ached for contact. Another hand fondled her breasts, tugging at her nipples just the way she liked it. A tongue caressed her neck while Marcus sought her mouth, parting her quivering lips to taste her. Just as she thought she could die a blissful death from the overwhelming sensation, a finger delved deep inside her, causing her to cry out.
“Mmmm, she’s so wet,” an amused voice rasped. “Taste.” And with that, a glistening finger eased inside of Marcus’s mouth, coating his lips with her arousal. But it didn’t stop there. Marcus grasped the hand, sucking it, teasing it with his tongue as it moved in and out, in and out. So … naughty. So taboo. And so insanely hot.
“I want you two to kiss,” Lauren found herself saying, chest heaving with every one of her excited breaths.
His
Marcus looked down at the hand in his grasp before gazing into unfamiliar sultry, brown eyes. He furrowed his brow, contemplating what this could mean for them. Once he crossed into uncharted territory, giving into hedonism without shame or reservations, could he and Lauren move forward? Would he still be committed to her and only her? Could he be? Or would his vows be tarnished by irresistible cravings?
Chapter 2
Marcus didn’t want to speculate anymore. He wanted—needed—to find out for himself.
Without thinking, he followed his carnal desires, blocking out the niggling doubt that told him to slow down and think about the repercussions of his choices. He was tired of thinking. As an accountant, thinking was all he did. He wanted action. He wanted to feel. And yes, he wanted to go all the way.
With fire racing in his veins, setting his skin ablaze, Marcus gave into temptation, his tongue tasting sweet, forbidden fruit as his hands explored a soft yet toned ass and smooth back. The kiss was foreign yet exhilarating, rekindling the first-time feelings he relished when he and Lauren started dating. He craved that newness, that excitement. Hell, he craved more than just his wife, and that revelation brought him up short, causing him to part with the softest, fullest lips he had tasted since … since ever.
This was wrong. This was all wrong.
But it felt right also. Maybe too right. And that scared the hell out of him.
Abruptly, Marcus pulled away, urgently seeking comfort in Lauren’s hooded eyes, although he fully expected to see the opposite. Sure, they had both agreed to this, and Lauren had engaged in some fun of her own, yet he wouldn’t be surprised if she were pissed at the way he was acting—hungry and undeniably horny.
When their eyes locked, Marcus was relieved to find a sexy smile on Lauren’s lips, her gaze as heavy with lust as his. And their guest for the evening? Hot with expectation.
“Why don’t we move this little party to the bed?”
Both Lauren and Marcus looked over at the sexy brunette who stood nearly naked in the sacred space of their marital bedroom.
Nina dripped sex appeal from her full, pouty lips to her hourglass figure. The night they saw her at a club downtown, Marcus and Lauren found it hard to keep their eyes off the exotic beauty as she danced in teeny tiny shorts and a ripped tank top. Something about Nina went beyond simple attraction. Something smoldering and magnetic that could be felt from across the room. And when she smiled, they both felt butterflies. They just couldn’t admit it to each other.
The couple invited Nina over to their table for a drink, thinking things would be purely platonic. Before they knew it, the trio had laughed, drank, and talked like old friends for hours. They didn’t want the night to end, but Lauren and Marcus had so much to discuss. They hadn’t revealed their desires, and there was no easy way to broach the subject.
Luckily, Nina broke the ice by leaning over and settling her red painted lips on Lauren’s. At first, Lauren was too shocked to reciprocate; her hazel-green eyes widened in confusion. But as their mouths melded together, Nina’s petite hand cupping Lauren’s jaw, instinct and longing took the reins. And right there, in front of her husband and a half-empty club, Lauren kissed a girl.
And she liked it.
That night, Marcus buried himself inside his wife for hours, claiming her, showing her how amazing they fit together. He didn’t want to stop—neither of them did—almost afraid to allow any space between their eager, panting bodies. Nina had forced them to not only face the distance between them, but act on it.
Now here they
were, the three of them in bed together, touching, exploring, tasting. Lauren sat on her knees in the middle with Marcus at her back while Nina bent her head to draw Lauren’s nipple into her mouth. She gasped at the feel of the woman’s softer, smaller tongue stroking her tender bud. She could feel the heat of Marcus’s ragged breaths sliding down her neck as his hands massaged her inner thighs, inching closer and closer to the place that ached for him.
For them…
Chapter 3
“So … now what?”
Marcus peered over his mug of coffee and assessed his wife cautiously. The question was expected, and he had been going out of his mind since the moment Nina left the warmth of their bed yesterday morning. Their night together had been intense, surprising, and absolutely amazing. But now they were left alone with only their memories and a fresh batch of confusion.
“What do you mean?” he asked, hoping to stall the uncomfortable conversation.
“You know what I mean,” Lauren replied with an exasperated sigh. “Where do we go from here? Do we just sweep that night under the rug and act like it didn’t happen? Or do we confront the bigger issues here?”
Marcus was all for the sweeping. Hell yeah, he could try to go back to how things were. But with the remembrance of Nina’s face between his wife’s thighs heavy on his mind, currently making the front of his slacks strain with tightness, there was no way he could honestly admit he was over it. Lauren’s blissful expression as Nina brought her to orgasm, then tasting his wife’s arousal on Nina’s tongue … damn. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. And that would be okay if it weren’t for the one memory that he honestly couldn’t shake even if he tried.
The feel of Nina’s sex tightening around him as he slid inside her.
He had fucked another woman. Holy shit. He had …
And not only had his wife witnessed it, but she had also participated. Kissing him, kissing her, licking each of their nipples, caressing the places that throbbed for stimulation. Lauren had been off the charts incredible, exploring a side of her that he had never imagined living within the walls of her prim and proper visage.
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