"Fumie!" Shemar shouted up the stairs, nearly tripping over that big fucker dog that his sweet, doting wife had bought Eri without even consulting
with him. Did they look like they needed animals in their house? No. Fuck no. Yet, Fumie had persisted and gotten the thing and basically dared him to
dispute its existence in the house. Yet another thing his wife had gotten away with that should've been straightened up as soon as he caught wind of
it. Defiance wasn't sexy, but his wife hadn't been sexy for years, so it was no surprise that he'd let that shit slip through the cracks in the way he
ran his house. But not to-damn-day. He'd called the house nearly ten times to let wifey know he was on his way home and that he was spending the
night...which meant dinner on the damn table. But she didn't fucking pick up and he was about to go up the goddamn stairs and find out why.
"Fumie! Goddamnit, you hear me callin-" His words stopped as he burst into the bedroom, only to find her sitting at her vanity, applying some shade of
lipstick that he hadn't ever seen her wear with him. And what she was wearing...or wasn't wearing...he hadn't seen that either. Not like he had her
running around the streets, representing his name looking like some hood nigga's top bitch, but she just...she kept it "matronly" and that dress
wasn't.
"Well..." He smirked, leaning on the doorframe as he watched her, her eyes slowly coming to look at him in the mirror.
"...what the hell is this?" His eyes climbed her body as she turned it towards him, her curves riding a bit nicer than he remembered them the last
time his "extramarital" bailed and he had to find...comfort in the arms of his dear old lady, a memory neither of them wanted to be honest.
Fumie paused to grimace, her fingers holding her lipstick just off of her lips. Why the hell did he always come in this house yelling? In case he
hadn’t gotten the message from her ignoring his calls, she didn’t have time for his bullshit today. Fumie had a lunch date. Well, not a date per
say. It was a business lunch with Zori. Another one. In the couple of months that had passed since the Gala, Fumie was sure she had spoken to him
almost everyday. Hell, she say him at least four times a week to train and the other three she often found herself making up a reason to see him.
Today was one of those days. She wanted to talk social media marketing with him for the gym (something he thought he didn’t need), but she
had to drop Lindberg off at the vet first. So Zori suggested lunch...or maybe she did and he agreed; semantics. Why not? Lunch between friends
wasn’t uncommon. She kept reminding herself that they were just that. Friends. Because in all the time they had spent together, it was getting
harder and harder to keep her word about behaving around him.
Fumie went back to her routine, sure Shemar would make what he wanted known soon enough. And sure enough he appeared in her doorway, her eyes glancing
at him through the mirror as he started what was probably going to be some rant about something she’d done wrong or hadn’t done at all. He stopped
himself short though, a very slimy ‘well’ leaving his lips. She could feel his eyes on her. What’s this? Shemar Kidd’s approval? Fumie
replaced the top on her lipstick, before standing, moving to the edge of her bed to put on shoes. What the hell is this?
“What’s what? I’m getting ready to go-,” her voice betrayed just how uninterested she was in talking to him. What was he even doing here?
“What are you doing home? Shouldn’t you be under some nineteen year old?”
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
Wa-was that annoyance on her face? Shemar double took as he watched his wife's reflection visibly cringe at the sight of him. The fuck did
she think this was? And that shit was the reason why he, her husband, rarely gave a shit when it came to her. She had no damn home training and she
had been so damn obstinate the past couple of weeks...that shit wasn't working for Shemar. And he would've told her so...had she not stood up to walk
to the side of the bed, reaching for red bottoms as Shemar watched her, his eyes taking in much more than what he'd assumed was newly placed curves.
Got damn. If Fumie's body was enough to get him into trouble when they first met, she looked like a fucking death sentence now. And Shemar
couldn't help but give a silent "thank you" to whatever trainer she called herself finding that was fixing the shit bomb she'd let herself turn into.
Because this body? This was the body of Shemar Kidd's wife. A body that was so fucking tantalizing, he'd almost missed the stupid shit that was coming
out of her mouth.
"I'm gonna ignore...the offensive shit you just said on account of how fucking sexy you look right now, wifey." He chuckled, coming closer to the side
of the bed where she sat, slipping her feet into her shoes.
"You're getting ready to go...where?" Sitting next to her, he licked his lips as he got a whiff of the perfume wafting off of her skin. Perfume that
he knew he hadn't smelled before. The fuck was that?
"And who's closet did you get your clothes out of 'cause I ain't never seen you in this shit." His eyes narrowed as he leaned back on the bed, propped
up on his elbows, his fingertips tracing the space between her top and her shorts where her skin was showing. Skin that she NEVER showed, that he had
to BEG her to show was peeking through...and she smelled like fucking honeyed rose petals. Hm.
Fumie gave a small shrug as he told her he was going to ignore her questions on account of…ha! She couldn’t help the smirk that came to
her lips. How ironic. The first time she actively tries to dress to impress another man and her husband finally appreciates the effort. Hm. Too bad he
was about a decade too late. He moved closer to her as she finished slipping on her heels, more questions leaving his lips. Questions she didn’t
think deserved an answer. She hadn’t asked where he was before coming here right? She thought they didn’t share their lives with one another? Not
that she could tell him any of that.
“Out-,” her answer was short, which was fine with Shemar apparently because he was still talking, laying his nasty ass over the top of her
comforter. She felt his fingers trace the skin of her back and she stood. Ugh! She hated when he touched her. Going back to her vanity, Fumie found
her earrings.He had ignored her question and now she was ignoring his. So she had a new outfit. She bought shit daily, not that he paid any attention
to what was new with her before. Nor did he usually care where she went. Ugh, how was he so fucking annoying before noon? Fumie sighed, finally
turning to face him.
“The vet, Shemar. Then lunch. Then home. Why do you care all of a sudden?”
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
The vet. Lunch. Home. All of that sounded...boring as fuck. Damn. That was her life? Running shit errands all day and then coming right back
home to two whiny ass kids? Better her than Shemar. Definitely. Well, at least today she looked good as hell while she did it. Thanks to him, of
course. Because it looked like she was finally listening to him when it came to how she walked around. There was nothing acceptable about her ass
looking like some random, thirsty bitch he stumbled up on...although that shit was kind of true. The only difference is that he put his last name on
hers and his legacy in her...which she did absolutely nothing with as well. Looked like there was a change in the tide! Her body was right, her ass
sitting almost as high as it had before she had Koi and she looked like a million, which Shemar was sure she was wearing. And this time, he didn't
mind. Even if she was just running errands...
Or.
One of those errands was weighing heavier than she made it seem. Not the fucking vet because that damn dog probably just had fleas or some shit. Not
home because the most she wore around this piece that even said expensive was those motherfucking UGGs she just HAD to keep putting on her feet and
calling it "comfortable". Did Shemar look like he married a comfortable bitch? Fuck no. The only thing left was...lunch.
"I care..." He sat up, chuckling sourly at her leaving his side when he got too close. She didn't want to be close to him? Right. She shouldn't have
worn those shorts...
"...because you're dressed like you got something important on your schedule today, baby." He spoke slowly, watching her face carefully.
Fumie scoffed as he told her he cared. Ha! Since when? About what? Her? Her day? Or whether or not one of her errands included fucking somebody else?
She wasn’t stupid and he’d made it very clear that he thought she was on point today...she knew what he was thinking. Despite her desires though,
she wasn’t going to be sleeping with anyone today. Not Zori, and especially not Shemar. She was doing exactly what she’d told him. Vet. Lunch.
Home. Koi probably wouldn’t be here tonight, but Eri would and they could have themselves a girls’ night together. Hmm. Maybe she should make
another stop for some OPI...what was Shemar talking about?
“Nothing important-,” Fumie smirked, folding her arms as she leaned against the vanity, her voice softening, “I’m not the one that lies in
this relationship baby.” She was pushing her limits with her smart ass comments today. She could feel it in the way he was looking at her now...but
he digressed, asking what he really wanted to know. Fumie couldn’t help herself, she scoffed, a short giggle leaving her as she rolled her eyes.
Seriously? This was probably the most they’d spoken to one another this month because he all of a sudden cared what she was doing with her time?
“It’s a working lunch. One of the summer partners.” He wasn’t going to remember Zori and usually when she started talking about Kidd’s Kids
he became instantly uninterested. Hopefully the same was true today.
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
If this bitch said "nothing important" again when it pertained to her schedule one more time, her sexy was going to wear off quick as fuck, especially
with the fucked up side comments she was making. She wasn't the one that lied in the relationship? Ha. Neither was he. He'd stopped lying years ago.
Theirs was an honest relationship. He did his shit, she put up with it like a good wife should. At least she could do that shit right. And for all of
that? He rewarded her with no prenup. The sign of a good husband. And like a good wife, she'd answer his question and stop playing him to the right
like it wasn't his damn business what she did. Sure, he never asked because, well...her life was boring as fuck. But it looked like boring was taking
a break. The new look, those clothes, those heels...something was getting exciting and Shemar wanted to know what.
"I don't lie. You know what you need to know." He answered what should've been an insult directly, the corner of his lips lifting slight. "And I think
I could actually share a whole lot more with you looking like this...one of my bitches loves older women..."
With a chuckle, he listened to her answer. A working lunch...wearing that? One of the summer partners.... Huh. He'd heard that before. Summer
partners. He'd actually met one of them right? At the gala. Yeah. A couple of weeks back, Fumie'd been talking to some rough looking cat. Tall ass
dude that looked like a walking muscle. Wearing the shittiest suit Shemar had ever seen at one of Kidd's Kids events that wasn't on a server or a
waiter. He'd introduced himself to the nigga as the hug Fumie gave him was a little too familiar...
"Hold up." He stared at his wife for a moment. "You're not talking about that John Henry lookin' nigga with the hole in the wall gym..."
I don’t lie. Ha. Was it any better that he was this perverted version of honest? The kind of honest that has multiple extramarital affairs
with college hos named Brittani with an ‘i’? No, it wasn’t. Fumie knew it wasn’t because she was forced to live this life with him. She had to
stay put and prude like a good wife should while he ran around fucking anything with “the twos” as her son would call it. No. Nothing about their
relationship was honest. And while Shemar may not have lied to her in a while about the shit he did behind her back, he’d lied when he’d taken his
vows. He’d lied when he promised to be a good father. He lied when he said he’d never stop loving her. He was a liar. Now and forever.
And he was an asshole. Her face settled into a deadpan as he told her what one of his “bitches” loved. “Fuck you, Shemar.” He knew just what
fucking buttons to push with her and she hated it! She didn’t give a fuck what his bitches loved and if she wasn’t about to grab lunch with Zori,
her response might have been more cutting. Funny how he always played at age and he was almost forty. Seemed like the girl he was talking about
didn’t just have a taste for “older” women. Fuck him! She had business. She started toward the door, her response to his previous
question leaving her dryly. A summer partner. He couldn’t possibly ask...ugh! What now? She stopped at his request, yet another inquiry into who she
was meeting. He wanted to bring up other bitches?
“His name is Zori, his gym is not a hole in the wall, and yes, we’re having lunch.”
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
Zori. Ugh, that name again. And to think, Shemar had successfully forgoten it. What the fuck was a "Zori", anyway? Made-up name nigga. And
how the hell was he still a Kidd's Kids partner? It'd been a couple of weeks, hadn't LA Fitness bought out his shit? Wasn't that piece of shit
business condemned yet? Shemar didn't even understand why he was partnering with an organization that was ten times what he would never be. Oh yeah,
the profit he'd make off of Shemar's name. Opportunist motherfucker. And something told him that that extra friendly hug that he laid of HIS wife had
something to do with it too. Shemar couldn't help but wonder how long this Zori nigga had been sniffing up after Fumie. How long he'd been pressuring
her for this "business lunch" just so he could put his hands on another's man's possessions. Which was what Fumie was. His. That's what the
"Kidd" on the end of her name meant. She sure as fuck would never be whatever last name that bumble fuck was carrying.
"His name is Zori..." He repeated, side-eyeing his wife as she moved toward the bedroom door, readying herself for her "lunch date". And why was she
so fucking anxious to even get her ass out the door? Dressed up. Smelling good. Obviously thinking that Shemar didn't see her for what she was. OR
what she was trying to be.
Right. He got it. Shemar wasn't one of those braniac niggas building computers or running the country. But he was smart. He could see puzzle
pieces for what they were. A bigger picture. And the picture this puzzle was making was simple. The new look? The mouthiness? Fumie's lonely ass, plus
this thirsty nigga sniffing up around what wasn't his? And Shemar could kind of guess what that equaled.
"A business lunch?" Shemar asked again, his eyes still on her. And he couldn't help but wonder as he looked at his whore of a wife. How long had it
gone on? How far had it gone? Was Fumie letting the nigga sniff it yet? Had that po-dunk nigga bent over the fucking counters in SHEMAR'S house yet?
Shemar could only imagine...or...he could know.
"...that sounds good. I could do lunch." He said, standing to his feet. "Hey. Why don't we make this a...threesome? I can come along. Shit, better
yet, a double lunch date! What you thinking? It's just business. Right?"
“Yes Shemar, his name is Zori. He’s a business partner. That’s it.” She was being 100% honest with him. Would he take her at her
word? Probably not. That was how it worked when you had a partner that slept around. They always figured if they were doing slimy shit you probably
were too. Fumie of course wasn’t, but with the way Shemar ran around he would probably believe it if he were told she sucked ten dicks a day. Shemar
repeated her again. A business lunch? Fuck, was there an echo in here? She rolled her eyes sighing again as she wondered where this was
going. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Fumie laughed. It started small at first, but she couldn’t control how it rose with the complete ridiculousness of his suggestion. Her hands covered
her lips as she tried to quell it before speaking, “I’m sorry. No.” He was not invited to this lunch! He was a complete asshole. Why would she
want to have lunch with him? Why would anyone? She laughed again, “Sure a double lunch date. You can call Ms. Saturday and let her know you’re
trying to crash a working lunch with your wife and a partner.” Did he know how ridiculous he sounded? She wasn’t stupid, she knew what he was
really trying to find out.She had proven to herself time and time again that she wasn’t selfish enough to cheat on her husband. And yet, here was
subtly being accused?
“Shemar I’m going to work. We’re going to talk about his gym and marketing and shit I know you don’t care about-,” she was bored with this
conversation and he was about to make her late. Time to turn on the charm she guessed. She moved toward him, her hands resting at his chest as she let
him hold her waist. “How about this; I’m going to run a few errands and when I get back…-,” Fumie licked her lips, her teeth catching her
bottom lip as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I’m going to take off everything but these heels and let you be the important
thing I do on my schedule today.”
She held his gaze as she waited to be released. Good enough?
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
I'm sorry. No. No? Even though it may have sounded like a question, it wasn't. Shemar was going to that motherfucking business luncheon if it
was the last thing he did. And where the hell did his wife get off telling him "no"? His face expressed that sentiment as his smile fell into a hard
grimace. And this was the precise reason his ass was going to be at that damn table, staring that grimy nigga dead in his eyes. Fumie never told
him "no". Well, never was a strong word, but the "no"s that he'd gotten from her few as she was a smart bitch. She knew the fucking
consequences. To get one now was uncharacteristic. And stupid as hell, on her part. This wasn't a fucking game. His possession deciding to hand
herself around like a blunt at one of her druggie ass son's parties wasn't a damn joke. Yet, Fumie didn't get the message as she chided him, welcoming
him to call one of his bitches to make the fourth person in their double date that according to her, wasn't happening. Oh, the shit was happening.
Whether she wanted it or not.
"Real funny..." He muttered, leaving off the "bitch" that he felt heavy on his tongue. She thought she was getting her way as she ran through some
fake itinerary of what she and that steroid-chomping giant were going to discuss and how he shouldn't have cared about it. Yeah, she had that right.
Shemar didn't care about the intricacies of running the foundation. He left that up to his wife to do. But he did care about the only thing that he
cared to lend to Fumie's organization and that was HIS name. He cared about that and the last thing he wanted was some scamming bastard to run up and
sweet talk his desperate ass wife right out her panties because he saw how fucking weak and lonely she was. How weak and lonely Shemar KNEW she was as
he looked at her attempt at catching this Zori nigga's attention.
How about this... His eyes caught his wife's as she walked towards him, her hips rolling the way they did back in the day when her body rode
half as nice as it was now. His eyes narrowed as he stood to his feet, confusion mingling with the very new feeling of excitement he couldn't help but
get when she came close enough for that sweet perfume to fill his nose again. He smirked as he closed the space between them, a chuckle on his lips as
he wrapped his arm around his wifey's waist.
"Oh really?" Shemar's voice slipped into the same whisper Fumie was using with him, sex coating every syllable. His eyes stared at her lips as she
licked them, bringing back lovely memories of the days when she actually put them to work...when they actually did something besides complaining. When
her "moans" carried a very different meaning than they did now.
"How about..." He began, smiling as he paused. "...I hold you to every freaky ass thing you just said and more...this evening...when we get back from
OUR business lunch." Grinning hard, he left a very well placed smack on Fumie's ass, pulling away from her as he walked around her to their bedroom
door.
Shemar obviously wasn’t as amused as she was with this whole conversation, but really? Come on. He couldn’t possibly think she was going to let
him crash a lunch with the one summer partner he’d ever met and been an ass to. Yes, she was still married to him, but she wasn’t stuck on stupid.
That had bad idea written all over it and the fact that Shemar would even suggest something like that was laughable. Sorry, not sorry…But she really
should have been on her way out. She knew she was going to struggle with Lindberg (he somehow just knew when he was going to the vet) add
that to this ridiculous and pointless conversation with Shemar and she would surely be late. Fumie didn’t do late.
So she tried distracting him, her voice hitting his ears in a purr as she promised herself to him when she got back. Ha. As if he would be here. Fumie
was certain whatever bitch he wasn’t with now would be occupying his time later tonight and despite the hints he was dropping Fumie was positive she
would have no part of that. Good riddance, to be honest. The mere thought of Shemar’s hands on her brought back memories of the last time they were
together and lately she did not care enough or have the patience to fake it for him. But she said what she needed to in an attempt to get away from
him as fast as possible. And it seemed to work, his voice lowering in his response.
“Mhmm. And I might even be into doing that thing you like with my tongue and an ice cube.” She was lying like shit, but it seemed to be working,
his words coming with a smile. Seemed to be was the key phrase. This evening...when WE get back from lunch. UGHHH!
A completely audible sigh left her as Shemar slapped her ass and moved past her toward the door. THEY weren’t going to be late because THEY
weren’t going anywhere. “Shemar, stop-,” he did turning back to her, his eyes void of the amusement that had been there before. She could
practically hear his gears turning, jumping to conclusions about why she didn’t want him to go to this lunch so bad. “I’m serious, you can’t
come to this lunch.” She watched his expression turn even darker, knowing how he felt about being told what he could and couldn’t do. She needed
to clean that up. “Let me set up a dinner for us. The double date thing sounded cute and I’m sure Zori has a girlfriend or something-,” more
lies.
“I’ll ask him about it.”
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
What part of “come on” did his wife not get? Sure, that stunt of putting on her sexy was cute...even a little fun as he’d forgotten what a kinky
ass she could be. But it was just a fucking distraction. Well, an attempt at one. Shemar had said what he’d meant to say. THEY were going to this
damn business lunch...together. And he was going to look Zori in the eye and give that nigga a kindly reminder as to why his broke, goalless ass would
never be enough for Fumie. Unfortunately for him, Shemar had her trained. Whether she knew it or not, she desired the finer things...things that even
on his gym's BEST fiscal year he wouldn't be able to afford. Therefore, he should just stop trying. Speech done. Then they could go about their
afternoon, eating a pleasant lunch, Fumie could finally realize how lame the nigga was and they could all keep it moving. But no. His wife and her
newly determined ass couldn't take law for an answer. She had an affinity with bucking the system lately and it was only by the grace of her sitting
ass and tits that Shemar didn't slap her halfway across the room for even continuing the conversation with her that he'd already determined was over
and done.
"Stop what." He said, more than asked. Stop...what? Stop being the man of his house? Stop protecting what was his? Shemar Kidd did not share his
fucking toys and he wasn't about to start now for some nappy dreaded nigga that weasled his way into the Kidd fortune by batting his fucking grey eyes
(yeah, Shemar saw them shits) and smiling at his lonely, gullible ass wife.
"Don't tell me-" He started darkly, his mood getting less and less tolerant of this feminist bitch attitude she decided to put on with that pair of
Louboutins. He watched her gauge his expression as she spoke over him, telling him that a dinner might be better and the...wait. What? The double
date thing was cute? Cute, for who? Not her as he knew his wife wasn't about to see no nigga she was scamming on and the bitch he was dickin'
down instead of her. Shemar smelled bullshit, but he'd let his wife keep dropping piles of it.
"You do that..." He told her, smiling sourly at her as he watched her walk out the door. He followed her, his voice carrying as she went to find that
big ass brute of a dog to take him to the vet.
"And don't think I forgot about your promise, baby." He shouted, a smirk on his lips. "I'll wait up..."
____________The Morning After Dinner_______________
Fumie heard herself groan as she regained consciousness, her eyes still closed. She had had the most horrible nightmare...she thought. Something about
Zori and a dinner and Lauryn was there. She didn’t remember exactly what happened, but she did remember that it had been bad. Ugh. Fumie made to
stretch only to feel an arm tighten around her waist. How had she not noticed that heat before? Who the fuck was that? She opened her eyes,
the early morning sunrise threatening to blind her as it streamed through the window of her bedroom. Fuck. What the hell had she done to
herself?! Her head felt like it was going to explode and her body ached all over. Pushing the arm at her waist back to its owner, she tried sitting
up, only to watch the room start to spin. Fumie’s hand held her forehead as she closed her eyes again, trying to focus on who the hell was in
bed...with...no.
No. Nonononononono. She looked down at herself, her nightmare seeming to become less dream and more reality all at once. She was naked and in bed with
Shemar. A hand covered her mouth as a small yelp tried to escape. She couldn’t deal with this. She couldn’t have done what she thought she had.
She couldn’t have! And the dinner...Oh God that dinner! She shut her eyes tight again, a hand running over her face. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!
Fumie frantically pulled at the sheets, wrapping them around her as she stood, trying to distance herself from something she knew she couldn’t get
away from. She slept with him. Oh fuck. Standing had been too much. She sat again on the edge of the bed, willing the room to stop spinning
as she tried to gather her thoughts.
What the fuck happened last night?
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
Best Fucking Night...ever. Well...when it came to Fumie, he told no lies. And even in his sleep, Shemar could appreciate that shit. What he
experienced last night with her reminded him of...well, the first time with her. Completely spontaneous. Hot. About damn time. It was about damn time
that their sex was the way it was when he'd met her and they'd fallen for each other like the fucking idiots they were. And the sex was...shit, it was
somewhere near amazing. Not that "lay on your back and avoid eye contact" she'd been giving him since she got tired of his "indiscretions" with other
women. It was...she rode him like a jockey. And he'd never been so honored to be a fucking horse. NEVER. She'd been a ball of drunken energy.
Where she'd gotten that stamina from considering how many years she had on her...whatever. Shemar was just...damn he was happy. For a second, she had
him back where he was when they'd gotten together. She had him thinking crazy thoughts as he lay with his arm around her waist. How he could see
himself coming home every night to that kind of sex. How he didn't even mind touching his wife own wife now. How sex didn't involve a couple of
magnums and a contract wit her. Being in wife pussy was enlightening...or maybe he was just stuck in the afterglow and his ass would be back to normal
before Fumie's 40th birthday...
"Good morning..." He whispered, her hand moving his arm away from her waist. He rolled over on his side as he felt her shift...some weird, muffled
sound coming from her side of the bed as she sat up, wrapping herself in the covers. Shemar looked over his shoulder at her, smiling at how even
sitting up, she didn't look half bad.
"...and do I get a 'good morning' back or are you going to keep fr- Fumie...what the hell?" He said, sitting completely up as he felt the covers move
off of him. He grabbed at the comforter and let her have the sheets, watching her sit on the edge of the bed, her body still wavering as she tried to
steady herself in her post-drunken haze.
"The hell are you doing? Get back in the bed, baby."
As bits and pieces of the night began coming back to her Fumie wished more and more that she hadn’t woken up. That she hadn’t drank as much as she
had to get as wild as she had been. She’d let Shemar finger her in a fucking public restaurant like a teenager for Christ sake! Oh, God and the ride
home...ugh. Fumie was so gone last night. So gone, that she’d let her husband take advantage of her in front of two people she had to work with, one
of which affecting her more than the other right now. Zori…Oh he was probably so upset with her. She didn’t even remember him leaving
dinner. Had they spoken? Did he get home okay? Had she completely embarrassed herself last night? The answer to one of those questions was obvious.
Fumie’s thoughts broke as Shemar’s voice sounded. His voice was softer than usual, a hint of something she hadn’t heard from him in quite a
while. Back in the bed?! What the hell was he talking about? Why the hell was he in her bed in the first place? Shemar never stayed. Even if one of
his whores fell through and he ended up sleeping with Fumie, Shemar always left before she woke up in the morning. It made hating herself for sleeping
with him just a little bit harder when he wasn’t actually staring her in the face. She always thought he knew that. Apparently, he didn’t.
She groaned again, realizing how dry her mouth was as she tried to speak, “What the fuck happened?” Her voice was hoarse as she addressed him,
ignoring his questions and hoping to get an answer to her own. She easily would have believed that she had been hit by a bus and a part of her hoped
that was more true than what she thought happened.
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
What the fuck happened? Those were the first words out of her mouth when she spoke to her husband? After the night they'd had? Yeah, Shemar
wasn't expecting her to get up and make waffles, but that shit? It threw him. She'd been drunk. He got that. But he was her husband. Waking up in the
same bed with him after a night like that? "What happened" shouldn't have been the first words on her lips. "Good morning husband and thank you for
knocking my fuckin' walls out last night" should've been. Why was he the only one with a smile on their face that morning? The sex had been beyond
good. So good that he hadn't had to ASK if she'd cum that night. He'd felt them. Every one of them. She'd enjoyed herself. Thoroughly. But now, she
looked like she might've keeled over if he answered her question honestly.
"The fuck do you mean?" He asked, his face showing the annoyance that was more than obvious that he felt. "What do you think happened?"
Shemar scoffed in disbelief, shifting the comforter as he moved to where Fumie was sitting, refusing to let the disgusted look she had on her face
stop him. What was she disgusted about? She woke up next to the fucking man she married. Unless she would've rather wake up next to that bumblefuck
instead. Shemar pushed the idea aside. There wasn't any way he was about to let Zori ruin a good wake up.
"You woke up naked. I woke up in your bed. You had dinner and fucked your husband." He reached out to her, stroking a peace of her hair and tucking it
behind her ear.
He was agitated. She could hear it in his voice as it changed immediately after her question. Was it really so unexpected that she would ask what the
hell had happened last night? It wasn’t every night that she had sex with her husband that didn’t result in him immediately rolling off of her and
out of her room. Notice, her room. A place he was rarely welcome. Shemar’s place was in the guest room down the hall, far as hell
away from her and yet here he was bitching about her not telling him good morning. What do you think happened? She didn’t have to think. It
was all slowly coming back to her. Every time she blinked she got a glimpse of the debauchery that was last night. Making out with him at dinner, road
head on the way home, all kinds of things when they finally got here...ugh!
“Stop. Please stop-,” her hand went up, trying to keep him at a distance as he explained what happened last night. She didn’t want to hear that
shit. She wanted to wipe it from her memory completely. She sighed as he finished by telling her how fantastic it was...that much was true. Fumie
couldn’t lie, despite wanting to stab herself over it, the sex she had with Shemar had been...amazing. As amazing as she might have imagined it
would be with Zori. Because that’s who she was picturing the entire time he was inside of her. Fumie wondered if Shemar would have described it the
same way if he knew the truth. If he knew that she was really fucking another man while she was with him last night.
“I need a shower-,” she ignored him yet again. She needed a lot of things. Water, an Advil, Jesus. But above all that, she felt so unclean. She
always did when Shemar touched her. Fumie tried standing again, stopping as she tried to gather herself to move. The sooner she got away from Shemar
the better.
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
What was wrong with her ass? Again, did she not remember the night that they'd just shared? That was almost half the problem, wasn't it? But Shemar
knew that no vodka stupor could completely erase a "last night". Especially when there was still proof of it in them waking up together, which never
fucking happened. She must've known that there had been something special about that night. He was still here and she had woken up in his arms. But of
course, just like the drab, boring as fuck wifey that he now owned, she couldn't see anything outside of how unhappy she was. How hungover she was.
And that was going to always be the problem with Fumie. She wanted a life that she couldn't have. She wanted a husband that she didn't fucking marry.
She knew who he was when she married him. The only thing that had ever changed was who he stuck his dick in. From her...to hers. But who he was? That
would be the same until his fucking feet left the ground and he let someone put him six feet under. The dreaming and the hoping and the wishing was
pointless and Fumie was wasting her time. They were in this for life...and it was time for her to start acting like it again.
"Stop? Stop what?" Shemar asked, his hand dropping as she moved away from his caress. She put her hand between them, like he was some...diseased
indigent or some shit? He looked down at her hand, sneering as he met her eyes again. What was wrong with her ass?
"Stop touching my wife?" He asked, moving forward and filling the distance that Fumie tried to make between them. Well, what he believed was his wife.
Not that she was showing any signs of it. A wife would've gone another round with him that morning and then gone downstairs to make them breakfast.
Not this shit that Fumie was giving him. He was getting tired of it, too. The dirty looks, like he put every single glass of wine to her lips the
night before. Like he made her ask that brute nigga for a damn double date, which did he need to remind her, was HER idea. This wasn't Shemar's fault
at all. All he'd done was fuck his wife like she was asking for him to do and expect some affection the morning after.
"You need..." He started, pausing to keep from jumping off of the bed and grabbing her as she talked about how much she needed a shower. "...to get
back in the bed. With me. Come on, Fumie...just...come here." He reached out for her, his hand gently wrapping around her wrist.
Wasn’t she fucking speaking english?! She wanted him to stop. Stop talking to her, stop touching her, stop fucking breathing! Everything in her
wanted to be away from him. He had been far too close last night...not that that was his fault. No, she’d asked for him...begged for him even, but
now she needed to put distance between them. Because she knew none of this was real. This “come back to bed”, “I want to touch my wife”
bullshit was temporary. As soon as she was out of sight she would be out of mind and Shemar’s phone would ring and one of his other dick riders
would want his attention. Fumie knew she was just as replaceable as the rest of them and she had come to terms with that. What she wouldn’t allow
was for Shemar to make her think things were going back to how they were when they first got married. They weren’t.
He wasn’t fooling anybody with this sweet act, so yes. She wanted him to stop. And she had no patience to tell him otherwise. But was he listening
to her? Of course not. When did he ever? All he cared about was what he wanted. Her to come back to bed and probably go another round with him before
making him some fucking five star breakfast as if her hangover didn’t exist. He wanted Stepford wife Fumie. Fumie that catered to his every whim.
Fumie that would fuck him and then feed him until he took his lazy ass back to sleep.
“No, Shemar-,” she pushed him away from her again, pulling the sheets tighter to her chest, thinking about what the word “no” did to him. “I
have the worst fucking hangover and I just...I can’t with you right now.” She tried walking away from him again, her feet unsteady as she made her
way to the bathroom for a glass of water and a hot shower.
Fuck.
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
She had one more time to tell him no and Shemar meant that. Fumie wasn't ignorant to the fact that "no" wasn't a word that he enjoyed hearing too many
times in a conversation. Call it what you might, the word didn't belong in a conversation with Shemar Kidd. Because "no" didn't apply to him. "No" was
a word that meant "impossible" or "never happening" and there wasn't a fucking thing that Shemar couldn't have once he put his mind to it. Like
her...Fumie. When they met, she avoided him as long as she could, which by all rights, wasn't that damn long in the first place. The point was that
he'd gotten what he wanted from her and years later, he was still getting what he wanted, whether she wanted to admit it or not. He got his side
mistresses, a wife that bent, no matter how resistant she tended to be, to his will and the notoriety that he'd always known would be his. He owned
the world. You did tell the owner of the world "no" when he wanted something that he already possessed.
"Don't..." He spoke through his teeth, her hand slipping through his grip. He felt the rest of the sheets move off of the bed as she pulled farther
away from him, hiding her body from the man who'd been looking at her for over eighteen fucking years. Yeah, he may not have book looking at just her,
but the point was...she was his to look at. And now things were different? This was the reason why he just didn't give a fuck when it came to her. Her
resistance. The fact that she just would let them be who they were supposed to be, who they made vows to be. For better or for worse, that's what they
were. And whether he was following up after some younger version of her or she was so fucking into that damn foundation or another fucking man who
couldn't be who Shemar already was, it would always be THEM.
"I'm not asking shit else out of you except to come and lay with me and you can't even do that shit?" His hand caught the edge of her sheet, yanking
it so hard that she barely held on. She stumbled, nearly falling as he got up, taking her attempt to steady herself and grabbing her around the waist.
His fingers went to her chin, lifting her eyes to look into his.
"Guess we're back to 'enemies', huh? Got what you wanted and now you done?" He muttered, holding her against her will. His face lowered to hers as he
took her bottom lip between his, moaning as he sucked it gently and pecked her lips as he pulled away.
Don’t…Shit. She heard it. That drop in his baritone when his patience with her ran out and he was about to...oh God she didn’t want to
do this with him this morning. Shemar’s temper was far too much to deal with on top of her hangover. She was still having trouble standing, she was
not at all in a place to deal with being pushed over. She didn’t want to be slapped around by him after a night as disgusting as the one before.
He’d touched her too much already. She shouldn’t have started this. Would it have killed her to simply lay with her husband? Perhaps. But it
wouldn’t have been as painful as what she was sure was about to happen.
Fumie yelped a bit as Shemar yanked at the sheet around her, nearly pulling it away from her completely. She was careful to keep her scream to a
minimum, unsure of the time and whether her kids were awake or not. The only thing that could possibly make this morning worse is having Koi walk in
on it and give her more fucking work to do in separating him from his father. Shemar was right. All she had to do was lay with him. He hadn’t asked
for too much and she was about to pay the price for telling him no...She couldn’t. She didn’t have it in her to fight with him and the last thing
she wanted was to have to hide out in here all day while the swelling went down on her face. She had shi--Oh shit! She was supposed to be at the gym
this morning. That was obviously the least of her worries now, as Shemar’s fingers delicately balanced her chin between them. She let her eyes
connect with his, sure her fear was clear in them.
Guess we’re back to enemies....They left? Fucking didn’t make them friends in her eyes. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that
the only thing in her eyes now were tears, threatening to spill over as his grip on her waist grew tighter. She let him kiss her, a soft suck as her
bottom lip before he told her how fun it had been “while it lasted”. Fumie nodded, unsure of what she was going to say next, but it needed to be
something to calm him. And not the kind of calm he was being. This was before the storm calm, and she knew it. Rising on her toes, Fumie’s hand went
to the back of Shemar’s head pulling him in again. She allowed for her lips to twist against his before slipping him a bit of tongue. Her way of
apologizing to him. Her way of surviving.
“I’m sorry, baby-,” she dropped the sheet, her bare body pressing against his as she felt his hold on her loosen. “Why don’t you lay back
down…”
I was a heavy heart to carry but, he never let me down.
When he held me in his arms my feet never touched the ground.
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