by W E DeVore
He started to laugh, and he kicked off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt as he slowly walked towards her.
“I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” she asked, feigning confusion. “I thought you were spoiling for a brawl, Bordelon.”
He stood in front of the bed and took off his shirt.
“I love you,” he said.
“And?” she asked.
“And I trust you.” He stared up at her, his eyes traveling over her skin.
“You gonna show me whose wife I am or just stand there and stare?”
He grinned, and she bent down to take his face in her hands. “Tell me what’s wrong, Ben.”
“You married an idiot,” he said.
She screwed her face up and said, “I thought I married you.”
“This is why you win every argument,” he said, picking her up and kissing her.
He sat down on the bed and she straddled him.
“Tell me what’s going on, baby,” she whispered. “Please.”
He shook his head. “Not now. Can we just get lost for an hour or two?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She ran her tongue over the silhouette of the angel tattooed on his chest from wingtip to wingtip and down to its feet. Tugging at his pants, she took him into her mouth until he hardened. He pulled her up to him and flipped her onto her back. Tracing her body with his tongue, he took hold of her underwear in his teeth and pulled them down a millimeter at a time. He tossed them aside, sliding his hand up to the top of her thigh, returning to kiss her. She rolled them over, straddling him and opened her body to guide him inside her, but he held tightly onto her hips, refusing to give her what she wanted.
She pinched his face hard between her fingers. “I’m all out of patience with this bullshit tantric kick you’ve been on since Jazz Fest. Knock it the fuck off.”
He smiled and lowered her down onto him, sliding slowly inside her, sending a wave of satisfaction through her as he finally penetrated her fully. Q cried out and moved against him as the climax that had begun to build from her emotional release finally arrived.
Ben moaned as her body quivered around him. They found a new rhythm and Q moved more aggressively against him.
The doorbell rang, and Ben cursed.
“Ben Bordelon, if you answer that door, I will divorce you.”
He sat up, moving his hips urgently against hers. Q arched her back until her hands rested on the bed, wrapping her legs around him.
The doorbell rang again, and they ignored it, focused on deriving as much pleasure from one another as possible. Ben grabbed her breast and Q began to moan more loudly. He brought his hand to her lips and she sucked his thumb into her mouth before sliding it down and putting it on her clitoris. As Q cried out again, Ben froze.
“Did you hear something?” he asked.
Q continued to move against him.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Your wife. About to come again.”
He grinned at her, thrusting in counterpoint and telling her all the ways her body was making him feel good.
They both stopped suddenly upon hearing Yvie’s voice calling their names, asking where they were, followed by her footfalls climbing up the stairs.
“What the actual fuck, Yvonne!” he exclaimed.
He jumped out of bed and slammed the bedroom door before his sister could reach the second floor.
“Sissie,” he called through the door. “Wait downstairs.”
Q fell back onto the bed, her incomplete orgasm dissipating in an instant. “You just had to give her keys, didn’t you?”
Purposeful steps strode to the door and Yvie’s voice came into the bedroom. “I need to talk to Q. Is she home?”
“Yvonne,” Ben replied, leaning on the door to make sure it stayed close. “We’re kind of in the middle of something here. Go downstairs and make yourself a drink.”
Yvie would not be detoured. “I’ve had the world’s most awful date with Aaron, Bubba. I’ve messed everything up. You don’t understand…”
Q grunted in frustration at the ceiling.
Ben put both hands on the door and yelled, “Yvonne Marie Bordelon, would you please go downstairs so I can finish giving my wife an orgasm?”
There a brief pause before a slew of apologies came from the other side of the door, followed by rapidly retreating footsteps.
Q sighed as she looked at Ben’s swiftly deflating arousal. “I was enjoying that.”
She crawled around on the bed, searching for her underwear. She reached between the headboard and the box springs and retrieved them from the panty vortex that seemed to exist in a single location on their bed.
Ben walked to the bed and spanked her. “Me, too.”
He took the underwear from her hand and threw them back towards the vortex, pushing her back down onto the bed.
“Don’t you think we should go check on your sister?” she asked.
“I do not,” he said, kissing her slowly and sliding his hands down her body.
“Ben, she’ll hear,” she whined and started to move away.
“I don’t care.”
When Q continued to argue, he said, “Clementine Toledano, if you leave this bed, I will divorce you.”
She coiled her arms around his neck.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” She glanced down between his legs and said, “That’s quite the miraculous recovery, Mr. Bordelon.”
“I promised my wife an orgasm and I am a man of my word.”
He slid inside her and her body instantly remembered just how close to orgasm it had been not five minutes earlier. She cried out and wrapped her legs more tightly against him. He took her hands in his and pinned them to the bed. Q’s back arched toward him and she held herself to him, raising her hips off the bed.
“Come for me,” he whispered in her ear.
When her body immediately responded to his request and shuddered around him, he kept moving, crying out with each thrust until he shattered inside her, screaming her name. He rolled over onto his back, carrying her with him, both of them still shivering with the aftershocks.
“What was that?” he asked.
“That, my husband, is the kind of sex you have after finishing a very good album and very short fight,” she said.
He closed one eye and looked at her suspiciously. “You’re going to leave me for Derek Sharp, aren’t you?”
She laughed. “Not if you keep fucking me like that, I’m not.”
He got quiet, taking her left hand and bringing it up to his lips. “It makes me jealous, that he gets to touch a part of you that I can’t.”
Q kissed him, tracing his lips with her tongue before moving her body against his fading erection. “But you get to touch every other part. And I love you. And I’m married to you. Everything I am is yours, including that part that Derek’s song, not Derek, but his song, found tonight. You understand? It’s not him, it’s just some of his music. Please don’t be jealous. There’s nobody for me but you.”
He kissed her slowly, tangling his fingers in her hair. Q lay on his chest, idly tracing his collarbone with her index finger.
She finally admitted, “It was the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced as a musician, Ben. Tonight, with Derek. I’ve never sung like that with anybody. I don’t know what that even was. It was like… I wasn’t even there anymore. I’m sorry it upset you. I wanted to share it with you. But I shouldn’t have acted like it was nothing. It wasn’t sexual, though. You have to believe me.”
“Of course, I do. You should go on tour with him,” Ben said. “I mean it. There’s something amazing that happens when the two of you sing together. This isn’t the first time. I saw it when you showed me the video for ‘Archangel,’ too. I know you don’t like him, but this could be really good for you.”
“I don’t want to go on tour, Ben. I like my life here. I like my band. I love you. I don’t want to be the s
ixth member of Dark Harm.”
“Everybody wants to be a rock star, Q,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, not me. All these months with Derek? It just seems so lonely. Everybody he hangs out with, he pays. Of course, he’s an asshole, so that might have something to do with it.”
Ben laughed. “Think about it, darlin’. Because I won’t stand in your way, if that’s what’s holding you back.”
“I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. Something set you off tonight and it wasn’t me.”
He traced her spine with the tips of his fingers. “I want you to have everything, Q.”
“Easy for you, I just want one thing and you’ve already given it to me.”
“If you say ‘orgasm,’ I’m going to be pissed at you.”
Q didn’t acknowledge his joke and looked up at him, so she could be sure he was listening. “Ben, I have everything if I have you, right here, just like this. Nothing else matters to me. None of it.”
Tears pooled in his eyes and he swallowed hard.
She took his face in her hands. “Please tell me what happened to make you so upset.”
“Not right now. I just want to be alone with you.” He held her to his chest. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have accused you of those things. I shouldn’t have said those things about Aaron. He’s my friend, he saved your life…”
Q cursed. “Yvie. We forgot about Yvie.”
“God damn it. Do think she’s still here?” Ben asked.
She sighed. “Better go find out. I still can’t believe she did that. What the hell did she think we were doing up here?”
“I don’t know that she was thinking very clearly, darlin’.”
They reluctantly dressed and went downstairs. Q found Yvonne sitting on the front porch swing, drinking a large glass of wine.
As soon as Q opened the front door, she said, “I am so sorry, Q…”
Q waved her off. “Come on, Yvie, let’s hear about your disaster date.”
When she didn’t say anything, Q sat beside her on the swing. “You just interrupted the best sex your brother and I have had all month, and that’s saying something.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Yvie said derisively. “Why do you think I came out here on the porch? Jesus. Your neighbors must love you two.”
“Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’m going back upstairs and getting naked with my husband for the rest of the night.” Q stood to go and Yvie pulled her back down.
“I’m sorry, Q. Please. I need to know how bad I fucked up.”
Ben joined them on the porch, handing Q an icy glass of vodka. He sat on the floor near the swing and rested his back against the wall of the house, sipping his own glass of wine.
“Start explaining yourself, Yvonne,” he said.
“So, I thought I did everything right, tonight with Aaron. I wore flats and jeans and hardly any make-up,” Yvie started.
“Yvonne, you’re wearing more lipstick and mascara than Q does when she’s fronting a damned burlesque,” her brother goaded her, making it obvious that he was annoyed at her for bursting in on him and his wife in their marital bed. “And that wasn’t what I meant.”
His sister flipped him off. “And it went great, at first. We went to that new Israeli restaurant on Magazine. Did you know he speaks fluent Hebrew?”
Q shook her head. “No, just that he stops speaking English sometimes when he’s had too much to drink or he’s in a really bad mood. His dad’s a rabbi, so it makes sense...”
“No, his mom was Israeli, so is he. He was born there and spent his summers in Tel Aviv when he was a kid, even did a tour in the army there. He told me all about it,” Yvie said. “He speaks French, too. He studies languages for fun. That’s what he does for fun, learns new languages.”
Q grinned at Ben and rolled her eyes. That Sanger had shared personal information with Yvonne that neither of them knew was a very good sign and most likely Ben’s sister was, as usual, trying to force something good to move faster than it should, making it fall apart in the meantime.
“Anyway, dinner was wonderful. He was wonderful. And afterwards, he said he didn’t want to take me home just yet and what would I like to do. I mentioned that a friend of mine was having a fashion show and art viewing at her shop and he said he wanted to go, so we did.”
“Sissie, so far this sounds like the least disastrous date you’ve been on in three years.” Ben sipped his drink, still overtly annoyed.
Yvie ignored him. “So, we’re at the show and we’re looking at this painting, then he puts his arm around my waist and when I turn to ask him what he thinks about it, he kisses me. Right there, just kisses me.”
Q stood up. “Yvonne, go home. This is the furthest thing from a disaster I’ve ever heard. Call Aaron. Go over there and fuck his brains out. Would you just relax? For the love of god.”
“But I haven’t told you the bad part yet,” Yvie whined. “Honestly, I messed everything up.”
“Fine.” Q sat back down.
“So, we’re kissing and it’s amazing and so romantic...”
“Get to the point, Yvonne,” she reproached.
Yvonne folded her arms. “Fine. Anyway, we stop kissing and before I can say anything, Tori Gerard freaks out.”
“Wait. Why was Tori Gerard there?” Q asked.
“It was her shop.”
“Since when do you know Tori Gerard?” Ben asked.
“Since I started shopping at her store about a year ago.” She drained her wine. “So, she walks right up to us and asks Aaron what he’s doing there. When he says he’s on a date with me, she drags him outside and they start screaming at each other.”
“About what?” Q asked.
“I don’t know. She pulled him across the street and I could see them yelling at each other through the window. After about five minutes, he walks back inside, grabs my hand without saying a word, and drags me down the street to his truck. On the way back to my house, he apologized for the fight then told me he wasn’t sure if he was ready to date anybody right now and he was sorry.” Yvonne sighed and sat back.
“That’s it?” Ben asked. He stood up and pulled his sister off the swing. Pointing to the driveway, he said, “Get out. Get in your car and either go home or go over to Aaron Sanger’s house and tell him to spend the night with you.”
He sat next to Q and she curled against him.
Yvonne leaned against the railing and said, “I may have gotten mad, Bubba.”
He turned to look at his sister and drained his wine. Q sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.
“How mad?” he asked.
“I told him it didn’t seem that way to me when he was kissing me and that he was just afraid of what we could have together…” she said, clearly ashamed of herself.
Q flinched. “Yvie! You didn’t. Why would you say something like that on a first fucking date? He’s going to think you’re psychotic.”
“Well, it’s true,” she said defensively. “It was the best date I’ve ever been on until the end.”
Ben scolded, “Yes, it is true that you’re psychotic. Why didn’t you say you could take it slow? Why didn’t you say you had a really nice time and you hoped he’d reconsider but that you understood where the man was coming from?”
Q chimed in, “Why didn’t you just grab his dick and tell him it didn’t have to be serious if he wasn’t ready for that? Good god, Yvonne. I can think of two hundred answers off the top of my head that would have been more appropriate, and your brother was the first man I’d dated in almost five years.”
Yvie covered her face in embarrassment. “It gets worse. I went into full crazy. I accused him of fucking Tori Gerard and a bunch of other things I barely remember. He must think I’m insane.”
Ben and Q glanced at each other, silently debating whether or not to tell Yvie that her suspicions were well-founded. He shook his head slightly and asked his sister, “What did he say, after you went full-blown crazy?�
�
“Nothing, really. Just that, obviously, I was expecting things to move faster than he was ready for. And he was sorry but that he’s in love with a woman who doesn’t love him, and he needs some time to get her out of his system.”
“And what did you say?” Q asked.
“I told him to go to hell.”
Q cringed, knowing that Yvie had let her one chance at redemption get away from her. She snapped her fingers at her sister-in-law.
“Give me your phone.” When Yvie looked at her in confusion, Q said, “Your phone, Yvonne. Give me your fucking phone.”
Yvie dug her phone out of her purse and handed it to her. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing your problem. Are you a ‘hey’ person or a ‘hi’ person?” Q shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Q started typing, reading out loud as she did, “‘Hey, Aaron. I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I freaked out like that. I’ve been cheated on four times in the last two years and it makes me’… skittish?”
“Jumpy,” Ben suggested.
Yvie tried to grab her phone, but her brother held her back.
“You can’t tell him that,” she said.
Q waved her off, continuing to type, reading her words to Yvie and Ben. “‘I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed this evening. I’m game for a date two whenever you are. No pressure. We can go as slow as you need. I promise I’m not a crazy person, I just play one on TV. Haha. LOL.’ Send.”
She handed Yvie the phone. “Go home. I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow, but that’s the best I can do tonight.”
A text message alert dinged from the phone.
“Oh, my god,” Yvie said, looking at the screen. “It’s him. What do I do?”
Q glared at Ben. “Is she serious?”
Yvie handed the phone to her brother. “You do it. You owe me for Q.”
“What does she mean ‘you owe her for me’?” Q asked Ben.
“I helped him with dozens of text conversations with you,” Yvie explained. “You think he came up with ‘I can still taste you on my tongue’ on his own?”
“That’s the line you used to get me to go have sex with you in the bathroom at Mike Ackerman’s Mardi gras party,” she said to Ben, horrified.