It’s three in the morning. I’m up pacing the living room. Sometime during the night, I received a creepy text from an anonymous number.
Ha ha. Your life’s about to be ruined.
I don’t take kindly to receiving a threat from some anonymous gobshite. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Everyone in my band’s attracted negative attention from all sorts of people. Stalkers. Obsessed fans. Trolls. Rejected groupies. All in all, I’ve suffered the least. Makes sense. I’ve been in a committed relationship for most of my adult years. With Jen Deveraux. Then Ronni. The two years in between? Aye. I indulged in a bit of sexual debauchery. Even then, my behavior was tame in comparison to that of my bandmates.
My dick hasn’t been hard for anyone but Ronni from the day and hour I comforted her on the private jet ride to Australia all those years ago.
Even when we split up, I didn’t fuck anyone else. How could I? She’s always been it for me.
Something about this text raises my hackles. A lot. I sent a screenshot to Barry hours ago. Standard protocol. His security company logged into my phone. They’re analyzing where it originated from. I won’t keep it from her forever, but I haven’t mentioned it to Ronni yet. Not until we learned something concrete.
My mind keeps flashing to the day in Malibu when Yolanda showed up on our doorstep.
Somehow, Iknowit’s from her. Before the day Tristan hit his head, I never got vibes that she was into me. I was blindsided by Ronni’s so-called intuition. Which was justified, obviously. Yet, everything about that encounter in Malibu felt staged. Why? I don’t know what she wants. I don’t know where she is. I don’t know what to do.
This entire situation makes me want to rage and punch walls. No one is going to fuck with my family. I’d die before anyone hurt Ronni. Or my kids. I feckin’ mean it. My family is everything to me.
Jaysus.
I’ve seriously lost the plot.
“Connor?” Ronni sleepily pads out to the living room. She walks straight into my arms, which I wrap around her shoulders.
Shite.
“Go back to sleep, my love.” I kiss her temple. Thumb her cheeks. “I got a creepy text from a fan. I’m just waiting for Barry to clear it.”
Ronni’s been through this before with me. “I wonder if it has something to do with the news about my lawsuit.”
“Why would you think that?” I keep hold of her shoulders, but look into her green eyes. The court dealt Kircher a major blow a couple weeks ago when the raw film of Ronni’s interviews was allowed as evidence to prove the truth of her statements. A major part of his case hinges on Ronni’s editorial choices in editing her “documentary” about his victims and her First Amendment right to do so.
She yawns. “Well, I wouldn’t put it past Kircher to try to fuck with us now that he lost the motion today. He has your number from the poker games.”
“Ah. Excellent sleuthing. I forgot about that. The old ‘if you can’t bring Veronica Mae Miller down, go for the tall Irish guy’ strategy?” I can’t help but grin.
“Something like that.” Ronni strokes my beard. “Come to bed, I hate waking up with you not there.”
Obediently, I follow her back to the bedroom. Cuddled up under the covers, it takes Ronni mere minutes before she dozes back off. With the dozens of gerbils running races in my mind, I don’t fare quite so well. No matter what I do, I just can’t fall back asleep. Eventually, I turn away from her and face the window to gaze into the night through the slats in the blinds.
Silvery-blue skies filter through around five. It’s a warm morning, and like many Seattle houses, ours doesn’t have air-conditioning. We kicked the sheets off long ago. When I turn back over, Ronni’s still sleeping. She’s so exquisite. On her back, her hair fans out over the pillow. Plum lips puff out silent breaths of air. One arm is flung above her head, the other rests on her flat stomach. Her dusky-pink nipples are puckered tightly and are too tempting for me to resist.
Leaning over, I suckle one taut nub . Lick and kiss it. Ronni shifts a little but keeps her eyes shut tight. I give her other nipple similar attention. Feasting on my wife’s breasts is a great distraction, so I continue when Ronni’s little mewls egg me on.
“God, Connor. You’re making me so wet.” I look up to find her watching me through hooded eyes.
I gently roll her so her back is against my front. My stiff cock nestles in the crease of her ass. “Let me feel.” I skim my hand down to her pussy, to her wet heat. Gradually insert two fingers inside her and stroke. Her hips move in time with each plunge.
My arm bands around her stomach when I enter her from behind. She twists so she’s on her back, resting her thigh over my waist. I fold my long body around hers, caging her head with my arm. My other hand cups her breast and thumbs her nipple as I roll my hips in lazy waves, building us to a languid but powerful release.
“Mmm,” Ronni purrs. “This is my favorite way to wake up.”
Tangled together with me still buried inside her, our bodies have a light sheen of sweat in the warm glow of dawn. I sneak my hand down to her clit and rub her gently. “Keep going, Mae.”
She’s still coming down from her previous orgasm. Her groany little breaths reinvigorate my cock. “I’ll never get enough of you, my love.” I fasten my lips to her neck and continue pumping into her while circling her swollen nub gently but vigorously.
She digs her heels into the bed and grinds her pussy against my hand. “Ahhh, Connor.” She bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut when she comes. I’m about to flip her on her stomach and fuck her doggie-style when Ronni’s phone pings. She ignores it, but then it pings again. And again. And again.
My phone starts buzzing too.