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“That’s up to you. Thank you for being a good sport and allowing me to be Dominant Mommy tonight.”
“It was an experience I’ll never forget. But seriously, all jokes aside, everything was fucking incredible, Kierra, and that was before the sex. Thank you. I think this has been the most effort anyone has ever made to please me.”
She smiled softly. “You deserve it.”
I deserve it. I do, don’t I?
Chapter Thirty-One
Kierra
Nothing could wipe the smile off my face as I jogged with Simone down the walking trail that surrounded the perimeter of the community park. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would live among those who replaced their vehicle with the newest model yearly or took their families on luxury ski trips to Aspen for the holidays. The furthest I dreamed was a modest ranch in middle-class suburbia with Rory and our growing family and a dog or two. Despite my initial hesitation, I liked it out here. The community could be more welcoming, but I had Simone and Anthony for that. I’d take the wives’ cold shoulders on the jogging trails any day in exchange for peace and safety. Rory and I didn’t always live in the safest neighborhoods. It wasn’t unusual to hear loud arguing outside that sometimes led to physical altercations. It was expected to hear police or ambulance sirens and the drawn-out, obnoxious train horn in the early morning hours. None of that shit happened here. The most annoying sound I heard was the 5:00 a.m. birds chirping outside my window.
“Here comes another jogger,” I whispered to Simone.
“Good morning,” Simone and I sang to the passing jogger, who greatly resembled Charlize Theron. She passed us a sparingglance and kept pounding the pavement, pretending we didn’t exist. We giggled like schoolgirls and kept tally.
“I think we’re doing pretty good. One out of four has given us a polite response. That’s 25%,” Simone remarked.
“Yeah, I guess it’s better than 0%.”
“Mommy, run faster!” Kiyah shouted from the double stroller.
“Go faster!” Daisy joined in.
I was shocked when Nori didn’t add her two cents until I peered into the stroller and found her enraptured by her tablet.
Of course.
“You little girls are funny,” Simone panted. We needed to find a bench to rest because if Simone passed out on my watch, I’d be on Anthony’s shit list. He might “accidentally” fumble my investments. My prayers were answered when we made it around a bend.
“Let’s take a breather,” I suggested firmly, leaving no room for argument.
“Thank God,” she whined, slowing down her gait. We laughed when we flopped onto the bench simultaneously and whipped the strollers around so the kids faced us.
“So, how was sailing the Caribbean with your fiancé?” I asked, doling out the kids’ morning snacks of diced fruit, pretzels, and water. Simone slid her eyes towards me and grinned knowingly as if to silently say, “Girl, we werefuckingfucking.”
“Let’s just say Anthony cheesily renamed the yachtThe Love Boat.”
I snorted and handed Simone a bottle of water.
I can believe it.
“I’m sure if you weren’t already pregnant that you would’ve come back with a baby.”
“No truer words were spoken. We conceived on the yacht for my birthday.”
“So, if I want a baby, take the yacht out for a spin. Gotcha.”
“Mi love boat es su love boat.”
I laughed and shook my head. I have been on Cloud Nine since my date with Jonathan a little over a week ago. The past week had been nothing but slow kisses, soft caresses, and sensuous whispers. We were entering the Honeymoon Phase of whatever the fuck we were, and I was living for it. We hadn’t had “the talk” because no words needed to be spoken—our actions spoke for themselves. We had each other—no title required—although I did refer to myself as his wife at the pop-up, but Jonathan didn’t seem to mind and went with the flow.
There were many reasons to be attracted to Jonathan Baker, Esquire. Some would arguably say he’s handsome, wealthy, charming, and comes from good stock. Others would say he’s intelligent, successful, a good father, kind, and generous. All of the above was true, but what drew me to Jonathan was how perceptive he was. When I had my guard up the highest, he could penetrate through effortlessly, quietly invading my space. It didn’t take long to realize that I liked how he revolved around me as if I were the sun. Soon, I discovered that his love language was physical touch. My back warmed and arched from the recent memory of us walking through the gallery with his fingers trailing down my spine and ghosting the nape of my neck. As promised, we took the children to the aquarium the next day. Jonathan was so clingy that if he could wedge himself between the stroller and myself, he would’ve, and I would’ve welcomed it.
Truth be told, being with Jonathan is easy, but that doesn’t come without fears. What happens when the Honeymoon Phase is over? What happens when everything starts feeling routine? What happens when the hard work truly begins?
I felt a nudge to my shoulder. “Are you okay? You kinda went quiet there.”
