Read Somebody's Wife: The Jackson Brothers, Book 3 Online

Authors: Jennifer Skully,Jasmine Haynes

Somebody's Wife: The Jackson Brothers, Book 3 (2 page)

One leg raised to the stool at her vanity, she smoothed cream into her skin, long strokes along her calves, up her thigh, then back again. He watched, mesmerized by the silk of her skin in the soft lamplight and the rhythmic caress of her fingers. The lace thing she wore barely covered her butt cheeks, and her hair cascaded over her shoulder and down her arm.

She smiled at him. “Did you fall asleep out there, honey?”

He’d missed her smile. “What are you wearing?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t just buy it. I was cleaning out my drawers this afternoon and ran across it.” She dropped one leg to the floor, then raised the other and started the creaming procedure all over again.

They hadn’t made love in two months. Almost three. He remembered it like a jailed man remembers his last taste of freedom. His mom had taken the kids after one of the barbecues, and the minute the door was closed, the curtains pulled, and the house silent, Connie unzipped his shorts and climbed on top of him right there in the front room.

He’d come after four fast, hard strokes inside her luscious body. His cock filled out his jeans. He’d slept well that night, really well.

Christ, he loved that she loved sex. When they were younger, it was anytime anywhere they could manage it. A little risk had made it even better.

After ten years and two kids, they’d grown past that stage. But Connie hadn’t stopped liking sex.

He hadn’t stopped either despite his constant worries. He wanted her now.

She’d started on her arms now, silking up those smooth limbs. Facing him as she stroked, she arched her neck and blended lotion into her throat, then her upper chest, her fingertips dipping down beneath the thin lace. Her dusky pink nipples peeked through the flimsy covering, tightening into nubs as he watched.

“Mi-itch.”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were tired.”

“Oh. Yeah.” The outfit was cut high on her hips, her pretty little bush clearly visible through the lace.

“That’s too bad.”

“What?” Her scent wrapped around his gonads. He couldn’t think.

She jutted her hip, putting one hand on bare skin, her fingertips flirting with the lace edging. “I said, it’s too bad that you’re tired.”

God, he wanted her, needed to sink inside her gorgeous flesh and come until he was beyond worrying about anything but the warm fit of her body around him.

Hell, he’d be satisfied taking one tight nipple into his mouth and sucking it like fruit. He could taste her, feel her. His gaze fixed on the ripe melons of her breasts. He licked dry lips, then murmured, “Did you take your birth control pill?”

“What?”

Her shrill tone shocked him out of his desire-induced haze. “Huh?” What had he just said? He couldn’t remember. Damn.

“Of course I took my pill. I take it in the morning, every morning. Like clockwork.”

All trace of her sultry tone had vanished and the lines of her body, moments before seductive and enticing, now tensed with anger. Connie had the beady-eyed stare down to a science.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know exactly what you meant. You don’t trust me. You treat me like a child. I’m almost thirty years old, you know. I can actually wipe my own nose, thank you very much. And I don’t need you to remind me to take my pill, okay?”

“Connie, honey, sweetie—”

“Don’t honey-sweetie me.” She glared, as if she was so angry she couldn’t find her next words. “You know what, since you fell asleep out on the couch, you can just get back out there again. I don’t want a man who doesn’t trust me sleeping in my bed.”

“Connie—”

She pointed. “Go.”

Man. He’d blown it. Big time. He slinked away with his tail between his legs instead of arguing, because the truth was, he didn’t trust her. He didn’t think she’d miss a pill on purpose, but her desire to have a baby was so great that she might accidentally forget. Subconsciously, of course, but the result would be the same.

Mitch punched a couch cushion into submission, then flopped down. He ached. Not just tired work muscles, but now his cock throbbed and his balls ached, and Christ, he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the bedroom, beg her forgiveness, and get off in her sweet, delicious body.

Hell.

Maybe he could talk her into using condoms as extra protection. Because this abstinence thing was going to kill him.

 

Chapter Two

 

 

She should have slammed the door in his face, but she hadn’t wanted to wake the kids. Instead, she’d closed it softly but firmly. Shutting him out.

Ooh, she was mad. She’d almost had him. She could have mopped the floor with his drool and hung the laundry on his erection. Mitchie wanted her. Bad.

But not badly enough to wipe thoughts of birth control out of his mind. Who did he think he was, checking up on her? Okay, so she had forgotten to take a pill a couple of months ago. She hadn’t discovered it until it was too late, until she’d already attacked him after the barbecue. She’d planned the attack, getting Evelyn to take the kids, but really, she hadn’t planned to forget her pill. She wouldn’t do that. They were a team. As much as she wanted a baby, she wouldn’t do that to him.

And Mitch should know it.

Ooh, she was so mad. Not to mention horny. Yes, flat out horny like an ovulating bunny. Hot, wet, and wanting, she needed an orgasm. She wanted it now. And why shouldn’t she have it? So what if she was alone in the bed? Who needed a man anyway? Maybe he’d hear her, know what she was doing, and come back begging. She should have left the door open.

She’d ripped her pretty lace teddy when she yanked it off, but at least she was naked beneath the sheet. Connie spread her legs, slid her hands over her breasts, down her abdomen, then into the thatch of hair at her apex. She was wet, dripping.

“See what you’re missing, Mitchie,” she whispered.

Her clitoris was already a throbbing nub when she put her finger to it. Almost on its own, her pelvis moved in tandem. She groaned without meaning to, then dipped her finger inside. It was good, but Mitch’s penis would have felt so much better. She went back to her clitoris, using fast circles. Faster, harder, her hips rising off the bed for extra pressure. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip as heat and sensation shot straight to the sensitive bead and threw her up into starlight. Collapsing back into the mattress, delicious quivers traveled through her body as her breathing returned to normal.

Hmm. The springs squeaked. She hoped they squeaked loudly enough for Mitch to hear out in the living room.

 

* * * * *

 

What was that noise? A rhythmic squeak, then finally what sounded like a moan. Connie’s moan. He knew it well, a soft, throaty exhalation of pleasure. Very soft, because of the kids.

Man, she wasn’t...no, she wouldn’t. Sometimes she did, when he was buried deep in her. Sometimes he asked her to because he liked the thought of her working herself from the outside while he worked her inside.

But she didn’t do it without him.

Did she?

Oh man. The thought of watching her pleasure herself made him close to explosive. He needed a cold shower. He needed his wife’s mouth on his cock.

And he really had to stop thinking about it. He had bills to pay and family responsibilities, and those were much more dire than the fact that he hadn’t gotten any nookie.

If only he could get over his debilitating anxiety. Even he realized it was unrealistic given the fact that he was surrounded by a family who would do anything for Connie and the kids. But he kept remembering Lou.

In the end, he slept less than an hour, trapped between the image of astronomical grocery-store receipts and the sweet scent of Connie’s skin.

 

* * * * *

 

“I’m sorry, honey, I acted like a jerk last night.” If not for the kids, Connie would have used the word bitch to describe last night’s tirade. She had to admit she’d overreacted.

Mitch jerked his head up, his cereal going soggy.

“I acted childishly.”

Mitch stared at her as if she’d brandished a pair of pinking shears on a crowded plane. And still he didn’t say a word.

“Rina, finish your cereal before it gets mushy,” she said, eyeing Mitch’s cereal bowl with a message light in her eyes. “And Peter, don’t forget to put your Van Helsing monsters in your backpack.”

With his cereal sucked down as if he were a vacuum, Peter hopped off his chair and dashed to his room. Their son moved on only two speeds, slow as a garden slug when he didn’t want to do something or Warp Eight when he did.

“Can I get my Barbie pack, Mom?”

Connie leaned over to look at her daughter’s bowl. Not completely empty, but better than usual. “Okay, sweetie.”

With the children getting themselves ready, she turned back to Mitch to find him still staring as if she were one of Peter’s space aliens.

“Finish your cereal like a good boy, honey.” She’d flummoxed him. Good. “I mean it, I’m really sorry I blew up last night.”

Last night had given her a wealth of new insights. A really good orgasm could do that. Even if she’d given it to herself.

First, she had been a bit hasty in accusing him of not trusting her. After all, that reminder about her birth control pills was
just
a question, and she couldn’t blame him for being worried. He’d always been a worrier. Evelyn said it was because he was always trying to play catch-up with his big brothers, trying to prove he was good enough. But after Lou’s death, he’d gone haywire, examining every little expenditure she made. She’d wanted to help by getting a job, but he’d vetoed that idea. Then she’d hinted he should to talk to someone, a professional. Grief counseling. Oh boy, that argument had been ugly. Even she, who never backed down from a good fight, had to let that one go. They’d sidestepped Lou’s death ever since.

She needed a different plan of attack, though
attack
was the absolutely wrong word. She didn’t want to start a war. She wanted to start some loving in the bedroom, get them back on the track they’d fallen off of.

“We’ve been fighting too much lately, and I’ve decided I’m not going to fight anymore. I’ll give you a calm household to come home to every night, where you don’t have to fret about a thing. Where you can relax and shrug off the day’s worries.”

He tilted his head, first one way, then the other. Like a dog who couldn’t figure out whether the steak in front of him was laced with rat poison.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, honey. Nothing’s wrong.” She smiled. She’d make everything just
right
. She was going to keep his house, watch his kids, and match his socks. And when they turned the lights out she was going to blow his mind.

The plan had come to her in that expansive, lethargic state right after orgasm where genius took root.

“Now, I’m dropping Rina off at day care.” Which she did twice a week to keep Rina used to being away from home during the day. It was a friend’s day care, and they swapped favors so it didn’t cost Mitch a cent. Kindergarten had been a big adjustment for Rina—not to mention herself—and she didn’t want the same problems with first grade.

“Peter’s spending the day with the Daigle boy, they’re going to play Van Helsing, so I’ll see you tonight. Anything special you want for dinner?”

Mitch choked on his soggy cereal. At least that’s what the noise coming from his throat sounded like. He didn’t turn blue or anything, and finally managed, “Anything’s fine with me.”

She called the kids to heel, though it took another ten minutes to get them ready. Mitch was still seated at the kitchen table, a cold cup of coffee clutched in his fingers. She dropped a kiss on his head, then scooted her gaggle out the door.

Oh yeah, she’d blow his matched socks off tonight after lights out.

 

* * * * *

 

“She acted like a Stepford wife, I tell you. She even asked me what I wanted for dinner.”

“She asked instead of telling?” David repeated, jiggling his ear as if he couldn’t have heard correctly.

Mitch threw another small stump on the heap and nodded. “She never asks. She knows whatever she makes is fine with me.”

“Interesting.”

“It was scary, David. Damn scary.”

Connie’s act this morning was almost...creepy. Definitely like a Stepford wife, especially after the way they’d gone to bed. Separately. Didn’t the wives turn on their husbands in the end and kill them? He’d never seen the movie. Now he was terrified to.

“She’s planning something, I know it, and it can’t be good.”

They stopped jawing a bit to work on the last stump. Damn, he hated removing stumps. That part of the job took longer than cutting down the whole damn tree.

“Holy Hell.”

“What?”

“She said she’s getting rid of the kids for the day. What if she’s planning to...”

He stopped. He hadn’t told his brother about his money woes. He didn’t need anyone else telling him he was a freak. But fear was now busting his gut. “What if she’s planning to buy a new washing machine? Or a car?” God forbid.

David leaned on the end of his pickax. “She wouldn’t do that. Not behind your back.”

He tried to listen to his brother’s voice of reason. But she’d been so pissed last night when he’d inadvertently let that stupid question slip out of his gullet. She would be royally pissed if she knew he’d sneaked into the bathroom after she left this morning and checked her packet of birth control pills. Hell, he couldn’t even tell if she’d taken her daily dose, not having seen the number the day before. Just how pissed could Connie get? Deviously pissed. Thank God he didn’t incite her wrath often. Although, the make-up sex was pretty damn hot.

“You know, Mitch, if you’re in a bind, you can always come to one of us for help.”

“In a bind?”

“Money. Cash. That’s what family is for. To help out.”

“No. Hell no. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

David put his hands up. “All right. Just checking.”

Did he sound like he needed to beg? He stopped work long enough to pop another antacid. His stomach was roiling. He honestly hadn’t realized he’d let his worries slip that much into his conversation. He’d have to watch that in future.

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