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“She does. She likes both,” Roman says. “Sent me a picture once—”
Her eyes widen and she looks behind her. “Does your wife know?”
He chuckles. “Oh, no, this was like three years ago. Lincoln had to issue her a warning. It was awesome.”
“It was not, it was embarrassing.”
“But I bet you did that like a boss, didn’t you, honey?” Quinn says, putting her fist in my face as I sit there.
I stare at it, confused, then up into her face, then at her fist again. With a shrug, I lean forward and talk into it like it’s a microphone. “Yes, I did.”
Everyone erupts into laughter.
Quinn giggles. “You’re supposed to fist-bump it, not talk to it, silly. I tell you, sometimes you’re a real bump on a log.”
Embarrassed, because that really was dumb, I reply, “I am not. I just didn’t know what you were doing. You’ve never fist-bumped me before.”
“Well, we’ll have to practice some more,” she says, laughing.
“What are we all laughing about over here, old guys and ladies?” Rhett asks as they return from the slide.
Kiara sighs. “Would you quit with the old guy stuff?”
“Yeah, you want some more sassy juice? I have some in my pocket,” Roman says, reaching into the pocket of his shorts.
Rhett makes a face. “No way. That shit is gross.”
“Oh, my God,” Kiara says. “I give up.” She plops down and rests her hand over her large stomach.
“You gonna make your mama go into labor if you keep talkin’ like that, buckaroo,” Quinn says to the little guy. She looks at Roman. “What’s sassy juice?”
“White vinegar,” he says quietly while the boy’s distracted with something. “I dip my finger in it and put it in his mouth when he’s sassy or curses.”
“Well, I wish my memaw would have used that. I used to get a big ol’ bar of soap in my mouth when I was sassy.”
“It’s not safe, they say, but it never hurt me as a kid,” Roman comments with a shrug.
“Maybe we need to go back to that,” Kiara says, narrowing her eyes at her husband. “Get you to watch your mouth around him.”
“You can fill my mouth with something else,” he replies, waggling his eyebrows at her.
“Okay, let’s go for a walk,” I say, grabbing Quinn’s hand and leading her to the food table.
“Hi, Trish,” Quinn says, passing by her and Johannes.
“Hi, Quinn,” she replies with a wave, a mischievous grin on her face as she looks at our linked hands.
***
“How many girls have you had in here, anyway? I mean you got a big ol’ room just for sex. Is it safe to assume that was a revolvin’ door?” Quinn juts her chin at it, her hands above her, secured to the ceiling with a leather strap and chain. “Does your family know you’re this kinky?” she pushes.
I shake my head and snap the whip on her backside. She grunts but doesn’t cry out, Her ass cheeks turn red and I reach over and soothe them. “Shut up, slut.”
“Ooh, okay, big daddy. How many sluts you had in here, huh?”
“Just you,” I reply.
She laughs. “Yeah right.”
