Black Swan Affair(6)By: K.L. Kreig
“Wow, a girl can’t even get a cup of coffee before the interrogation starts?” I say, throwing my keys onto the counter with a flourish. I guess I’m not quite ready to paste on my fake smile yet.
“Here.” She offers me a steaming black cup of life and manners.
“Kissing the boss’s ass?” I watch her over the rim of my mug as I take a nice long swallow of the hot, sweet brew. It tastes like a cup of sugar with a little coffee thrown in. Just the way I like it. Wow, I’ve missed this place.
She huffs. “I don’t like the taste of ass.”
I laugh. I’ve missed bantering with MaryLou James for the past fourteen days. “That’s why we’re friends.”
“So…how was it?”
“What exactly do you mean by ‘it’?” I ask, stalling for time. Kael and I returned two days ago from our two-week honeymoon on the exclusive Calivigny Island, just off the coast of Grenada. It was paradise. I should have enjoyed our private, luxurious, fully staffed home, fine sandy beach, and unmatched sunsets more than I did.
My chest clenches hard. It’s the exact honeymoon I imagined taking with Killian.
“Well, I’m not talking about the view from your private balcony.”
“Why not? It was spectacular.” I take another sip and wait for her to take the bait.
“Was your husband’s tight naked ass framed in it?” she asks, her arched brows wagging.
“Maybe,” I tease.
“Do you have a picture?” Her voice pitches an octave higher. I laugh harder.
“Possibly.” I do.
“Oh fuck.” MaryLou fans herself with both hands and my entire body shakes. She’s had some unholy fascination with Kael’s behind since the ninth grade when she swears we were mooned by three seniors driving the loop on a Friday night. I keep telling her it wasn’t Kael. It was David Brandt. Kael was the one driving, but no matter what I say, she won’t listen.
“I think I just had a mini orgasm. For real.”
“Oh. My. God,” I squeal. I wad up a paper napkin and throw it at her. “That’s my husband you’re ogling over.”
“Hey, I can’t help that you married a ridiculously good-looking man. And that’s the most protective I’ve ever heard you get about Kael. Guess the sex was more than good, huh?”
“Hasius Crepes, bitch.” I may use fuck like punctuation, but if I so much as utter JC’s name in vain, I kid you not, the taste of Lava soap magically appears in my mouth. A bad side effect from my childhood.
“I hate it when you say that. You’re a grown-ass woman now.”
“Well…I hate your face.”
She grins widely, showing off her slightly crooked two front teeth. “That’s lame, Mavs. You can do better than that.”
I flop onto the wooden stool behind the counter. “I know. I’m tired. I haven’t been up this early in two weeks.”
“Yeah, you’ve been in a sex coma for a straight fourteen days.”
That’s not exactly true, but I don’t correct her. I feel guilty enough as it is. Believe it or not, while Kael and I had done plenty of fooling around, we hadn’t slept together before we were married. It’s not that I’m old-fashioned or was saving myself because I certainly wasn’t a virgin. It’s just that a large part of me wasn’t willing to cross that line with him, hurt him even more if I didn’t walk down that aisle. And it was just so…weird to have sex with my very best friend, a boy who used to sneak toads through my open bedroom window at night to scare the shit out of me. But thankfully, Kael was understanding, the way he always is. He assured me that we’d have a lifetime to get to know each other “that way.”
Besides, we threw the wedding together on a wing and a prayer, married only six weeks after we got engaged. I didn’t want anything fancy and I certainly didn’t want a long, drawn-out engagement. Although if I had, maybe I’d have come to my senses before it was too late.
“Is that all you think about? Sex?” I ask.
“Says the woman who’s probably been banged day and night since she left. I know if it were me I wouldn’t let that hot piece of ass out of bed even to eat. Well…except if he wanted to eat—”