by Jordan Marie
“I’m ready,” I tell him and whoops, did my voice come out breathy? I look at the man again, his face is blurry, and Jacob’s is overshadowing it. He grins, and Jacob always did have the prettiest smile. He moves behind me and holds my hands at the back of the chair. I let my fingers wrap around the spindles of the chair. He holds the banana out just below my lips and nerves fly through my system. I can’t lose to Nicole. That can’t happen. I want to make Jacob proud of me. I look out at the crowd and this time, they’re all chanting…my name. I decide to tease first. That has to be a crowd pleaser, right? Jacob always loves it when I make him wait. I flatten my tongue out and carefully go to the fingers that are wrapped around bottom of the banana. I barely lick the banana, I’m afraid to be like Skye and break the dang thing off, but I do touch it enough that it seems to please the crowd even more. Above me I hear a moan.
“Oh damn, she’s out to win,” the voice above me says and weird…it doesn’t really sound like Jacob. I could have sworn I saw him.
Once I reach the top of the banana, I slowly dive down on it. I relax my throat and breathe through my nose to allow the tip of the fruit to reach the back of my throat; my lips close around it to where they touch fingers. I win! I quickly pull away from it when I hear, “We have a winner!” Yes! I think I squeal! I can’t be sure because mostly I hear Nicole and Skye cheering. I stand up as a red sash is draped over my shoulder. I look up and the Chris Pratt lookalike is back. Where did Jacob go? I wanted him to see me win!
I hold the sash up and read the gold letters that proclaim me, “Blow-job Queen.” I don’t know why that makes me happy but it does. The man puts a plastic crown on my head and wraps his arm around me as he introduces me to the crowd.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Carrie. Our new Blow-job Queen!” he announces amidst more chants of my name. I feel like I might be a celebrity.
Jacob’s going to be so proud!
9
Jacob
“We’re a bunch of sad fucks,” Bull grumbles. “Following our women like a bunch of pussy-whipped men.”
“You sure are complaining a lot for a man driving the damn vehicle,” I tell him. Dragon is following in a second vehicle, and the closer we get, the more on edge I get. I know I’m probably being an idiot, but I do not like Carrie out of my sight. It’s irrational. Just because Dragon and Nicole’s wedding went fucking insane, doesn’t mean anything. They ended up married, happy and with two sons. Still, I know I’m not going to rest until this wedding is done and Carrie has my last name. Then, life will go back to what it has been before. Shit. I don’t know. I have been on edge ever since I killed those men. They needed to be ended. It wasn’t the first time I had killed someone…but this was different. This time I killed…for me, for my future…for vengeance. Maybe I’m afraid it will come back to bite me in the ass. Karma is a fucked up bitch. Still, I need to stop. I’m letting the past get to me again. I need to stop that shit.
The past is dead and over. I buried it for the final time. Carrie. She’s my purpose. She’s the reason I survived. She’s why I face tomorrow. Hell, she’s the reason I look forward to tomorrow.
“If you assholes are getting your women, then I sure as hell am. I’ll just make sure Skye knows you guys demanded we show up there—not me.”
“Smooth man, real smooth.”
“I thought so,” he grins as we pull into the parking lot of the club the girls are at. Dragon parks beside us and then the three of take off to the front entrance.
“How mad do you think the women are going to be when they see us crashing their girl’s night?” I ask, more or less for something to say.
“I’m going to make her ass blood red,” Dragon growls.
“What the fuck is Skye doing?” Bull asks. I follow their line of sight and look at the stage. Skye is on the floor holding something, and I think she’s crying. I can’t tell because the damn place is way too loud. Nicole is bouncing up and down cheering Carrie on … and Carrie…
Motherfucker.
I take off running toward the stage, pushing people out of my way. I hear Dragon and Bull just a half of a step—two at the most, behind me. The first thing I do when I hit the stage is pull myself up, grab the fucker who is hugging my, woman and push him aside.
“Jacob! That’s not very nice!” Carrie berates me.
“What the hell are you doing, Carrie?” I growl.
“I was trying to show Skye how I won my title!”
“Your title?”
“Jacob, I won Blow Job Queen!” she squeals, and then reaches down to show me this red thing she has hanging off her shoulders, that says the same thing.
“I don’t want you to show me. This is Bull’s fault!” Skye gripes.
“My fault? What the fuck did I do, Doc?”
“Well obviously, Dancer trains his woman better.”
“Trains?” Bull asks, laughing. Fuck, I might laugh too, if Carrie wasn’t giving me a heart attack.
“Well he obviously has given her tricks on how to…” she stops to hiccup, “give a Humvee!”
“A Humvee?”
“She means hummer,” Nicole giggles.
“Mama—”
“I did good Dragon. It’s not my fault or yours that I lost.”
“Mama—”
“It’s just the banana doesn’t taste as good as you do.”
“Motherfucker,” Dragon says on a sigh, his head down.
“Plus, it wasn’t as hard as you get. Cause well you get really firm and you fill my mouth a lot more, so it’s easier to clamp down and suck…”
“That’s enough, Mama,” Dragon laughs.
“I was just trying to explain why I didn’t win the crown,” Nicole mumbles.
“Let’s get you back to the hotel we’re booked in for the night, and you can show me.”
“What about the boys?”
“They’re sleeping at Mary’s. We’ll be over there before they wake up in the morning. Though you’ll probably be hungover as fuck,” he sighs, pulling his woman into his arms. He carries her like she was a child in his arms.
“That’s not nice! I won’t be hungover. I’m not drunk. I just feel…nice.”
“I’m sure you do,” Dragon answers, shaking his head.
“Hold up, Boss,” Bull yells, tossing me the keys. “See you tomorrow for the shindig, Dance,” he growls. “Let’s go Skye.”
“No. I’m mad at you.”
“What the hell for?”
“I broke the banana. Shit, I can never suck your dick again!”
“What in the Hell, are you talking about woman?” Bull growls, and I think I can see real fear on his face. Then again, if Carrie said she was never sucking my cock again, I’d feel it too.
“What if I hurt your dick? You never told me I was too rough!” Skye cries.
“Jesus. Where the hell is Crusher?” I ask, shaking my head at the sad-ass shape the ladies are in.
“He’s probably in the back, fucking Dani,” Carrie announces, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. She’s so drunk, because my Carrie would never use the word fucking in front of all these people so casually. Then again, my Carrie wouldn’t be wearing a crown or a sash that says, “Blow Job Queen,” so proudly, without blushing her ass off.
“Let’s get you home. Mary and her friend, Tanya, are alone with the kids. They might need us.”
“But we’re having fun,” she pouts.
“Where the hell is the sweater you were wearing?”
“It was hot in here,” she grumbles, curling up her nose, and looking down at her sweater. Christ. That’s it.
“I’m taking you home,” I growl. It’s either that, or fuck her on the stage, so every son of a bitch in here knows who she belongs to. Me.
Possessiveness. Just one more thing Carrie brings out in me. I used to have nothing and now, I have everything.
10
Carrie
“You don’t seem very happy,” I tell Jacob, looking down at him. I’m sitting
on the bed and he’s kneeling on the floor taking off my shoes. That would be a sweet thing to do, if he wasn’t grouching at me the whole time.
“You were half dressed on a stage, wearing a ribbon about blow jobs. Why shouldn’t I be grouchy, Carrie?”
“It’s not a ribbon, it’s a sash, and it’s because I won! I mean I don’t know how much experience Nicole and Skye have at that kind of thing, but except for you, I have none.”
“Damn straight you don’t and you never will,” he growls. Grouchy!
“Which means, I must be pretty good at it!” I declare, ignoring his grumpiness. I’m a queen! I’m not about to let him get to me.
“Carrie…” he sighs, standing up. He reaches down and undoes my jeans. I want to help him, but for some reason my fingers don’t cooperate. So, I just lean back on the bed, bracing myself with my elbows, lifting my ass so he can take my jeans off. Once he removes them, he tosses them on the floor, and then leans down over me. I wrap my hands loosely around his neck and pull him into me. “You’re so drunk, Care Bear. How much did you drink?”
“I’m not drunk, I just…well, I feel good.”
“You do feel really good,” he tells me, his hand moving along my ass to slide up under the camisole I’m wearing.
“I might be a little drunk,” I finally admit, as I feel his hand splay out against my stomach, instantly warming the already heated skin. My words make him smile. Nothing looks better on Jacob than a smile. He doesn’t give these full smiles to me often—the ones that make his eyes light up with laughter. But when he does give them to me, I feel like I’ve won a war, because I can see the joy in him during those minutes. I hold them close and take them into my heart.
“You might be,” he says, burying his face into the curve of my neck. I feel his lips press against my skin, and then a second later, his teeth raking against the flesh as he nibbles on it. Chills of awareness run through my body like sparks of electricity. “You’re so going to regret that in the morning, sweetheart.”
“Maybe, but not tonight. Do you know why Jacob?”
“Why’s that, Care Bear?” he asks, moving down to give my shoulder attention. I let my hands caress his back, and then I seek the hand he has on my stomach, placing mine over it. My fingers slide against his, and I push his hand further down, past my stomach to the part of me that is demanding his touch.
“Because, I think drinking makes me horny,” I whisper. He pulls his head back to look at me again, and there’s that smile—except this smile doesn’t hold laughter. It holds desire. Victory.
“What happened to no fucking while we’re at Mom’s?”
“I’m letting that rule slide,” I gasp, as his fingers slide between my wet folds, and push inside me. My head goes back against the bed as my hips thrust up in an attempt to force his fingers to go even deeper in.
“Is that so?” Jacob’s deep voice rumbles out, as his thumb pushes against my throbbing clit.
“Yeah, because I really, really need you to fuck me tonight, Jacob. Please?”
“Nothing could stop me from it, Care Bear. Nothing at all,” he growls. He takes my mouth, and I cry when his fingers leave me, the sound muffled by his lips. It’s okay though. It’s more than okay, because it doesn’t seem long at all before his cock is thrusting inside of me. And that feels divine. Better than divine…so much better that I don’t even mind the feel of his jeans rubbing against my bare legs. Jacob wanted inside of me so much he didn’t even take the time to fully undress…and I kind of like that.
Another score for the Blow Job Queen.
11
Dancer
5:00 a.m.
I should have been up sooner. I didn’t worry about setting an alarm clock because I rarely sleep more than a few hours. Last night though, after making love to Carrie, I drifted off to sleep and for the first time since I got out of prison, I didn’t have a nightmare. Not one. I can’t explain it, but I’m fucking grateful. I’m taking it as a sign that today will be smooth sailing. Carrie deserves that. I want today to be perfect for her. I’m marrying the woman I love, and by God, she deserves it to be something she will always look back on. She deserves beauty and perfection.
I get dressed as quietly as I can. Nicole and the others will come in and wake her up around nine. But, I want to make sure I have everything ready. I go to the dresser, reach inside the top drawer to retrieve the card I wrote yesterday, and leave it on her nightstand.
I stand over her for a few minutes, just drinking in the sight of her. Her auburn hair is fanned out on the white pillow slip. The sheet is dipped down and folded showing her cleavage, barely covering her nipples. Sleeping like she is, she looks even younger than she is. We have been through so much together, and despite the crap I’ve given her, despite everything we’ve faced, she still reflects innocence… I don’t deserve her. I will never give her up.
Never.
“You look like a man completely happy with his world,” Mary tells me when I enter the kitchen. Hell, I guess I am smiling.
“Today’s a good day.”
“Does Carrie know she’s going to be walking down the aisle yet?”
“No. She’s sleeping.”
“I never took you to be such a romantic, son.”
“Or an idiot. What if Carrie hates this idea? Don’t women love planning their own wedding and shit? Maybe I should just call this whole thing off.”
“You do that and I’ll take this skillet to your head!”
“Mom—”
“I’m serious. You know Carrie better than anyone. You’re giving her a wedding she’s always wanted.”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, I do. You’re having it outside, which Carrie has always said she wanted. You’re using her favorite flowers, you’re making sure everyone who she cares about, and cares about her, will be here. You’ve been working on your own vows. You even had her mother’s wedding gown altered so it would fit her. For the love of Pete, Jacob, what else could she want?”
“Yeah. What if she hates what I had done to the gown? I trusted the girls on that because shit, I thought it looked great before. It wouldn’t matter if Carrie was wearing a potato sack, she’d still look beautiful.”
“And that right there says that Carrie will be the luckiest woman in the world today. Quit worrying.”
“I haven’t even started the vows, Mom.”
“Then that’s what you need to be worrying over. Now, get out of here and let me finish breakfast. The girls helped me get some things done yesterday, and we’re having fresh fruit and doughnuts, but I just couldn’t imagine you men surviving on that till the wedding dinner, so I’m frying up some bacon and eggs too.”
“Mom, I told you not to go to any trouble!”
“I know, and I’m still upset you hired a caterer for the wedding dinner.”
“I didn’t want you to work,” I sigh, rubbing my hand along the side of my jawline. Mary tries to do everything and she’s not exactly a spring chicken anymore—not that I would ever tell her that.
“Well, at least you got Carrie’s favorite bakery in town to make her cake. I will admit that’s the one thing I couldn’t do.”
“I need to go pick up your veil from the drycleaners for Carrie,” I tell her, knowing that this conversation is not one I can win. If I keep trying, I’ll cave and cancel the caterers.
“Then you better get. I’ll hold down the fort here, and don’t worry, I have the flowers to give to Carrie when I take her some breakfast in a bit.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I clear my throat as the next words kind of lodge there. Except for Carrie or Jazz, whom I tell every day, I rarely use them. They don’t come easy, but this woman definitely deserves them, and I’ve been an ass to her most of the past three years. “I…I love you.”
She places her hand on my forearm, and I feel it tremble. My eyes go to her face. Her hair is gray now, but it’s beautiful. Her face has wrinkles and little sags, but to me it will always be beautiful
. Her lips are smiling, her brown eyes are shining, but they are also filled with tears that she’s trying not to shed, but are still gathering in her eyes. One leaks out, sliding down her cheek, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve done something wrong.
“I love you, Jacob, as much or maybe even more than if you came from my own body. You are strong and loving, you’re everything a mother could want from a son,” she whispers and damn, the emotion inside of me at her words nearly strangles me. I feel uncomfortable, I don’t know what to say to that, but then she makes it worse. Her hand moves up to the side of my face and she looks me straight in the eyes. “Do you want to know how I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Carrie will be overjoyed when she finds out what today is?” she asks, but she doesn’t wait for me to answer, she just pushes forward. “Because there’s not a better man in this world than my Jacob. You’ve pushed your past aside, and you’re the best father and husband to Carrie and your daughter possible.”
“Mom—”
“I know all this, Jacob,” she says, stopping me from talking, “because you are the most amazing son a woman could ever ask for. I’m proud of you. Prouder than you will ever know.”
“I don’t...”
“Get out of here now and let an old woman enjoy the fact that she raised an amazing man, will you? I have breakfast to cook,” she says, clearing her throat, and turning away from me. There’s a lot floating in my head, but I feel open and a little raw.
So, I tell her the only thing I can manage to say. I follow her to the stove, hug her, and place a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m proud of you too, Mom, and I love you more than you will ever know.” It’s true. She won’t know what she means to me, because I don’t know how to express that. She gave me a chance when the world wouldn’t, and the harder I kept pushing her away, the more she loved me. That doesn’t even begin to touch the gratitude inside that she was the one to take care of Carrie when I couldn’t. I owe this woman everything.