CHAPTER 23
Monet
“Make love to me, Kingston. The way you used to,” Monet said.
Craving his touch. The feel of his naked body against hers. Monet lay atop her husband and pressed her lips against his. If they were going to make their marriage work, one of them had to initiate an effort.
Kingston’s long fingers gently glided along the crevice in her spine as he kissed her. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you here with the girls. I’m going to do better. I promise.” Rolling her onto her back, her husband spread her thighs.
“It’s my fault, too,” Monet said as she looked into her husband’s eyes. She loved him so much that it hurt her to think about losing him. “I should’ve been more patient with you.”
“Shhh.” Kingston eased his way to her sweetest spot. Parted her labia. Slowly he sucked her clitoral shaft in his mouth. His enormous lips traveled all the way up, then back down to her clitoris.
Monet moaned. “I miss this. Go slow, baby.”
Sliding back the hood of her clit, exposing her pearl, her husband patiently circled his tongue, then suctioned her shaft faster.
Her body tensed due to how he was sucking. Monet felt her entire vulva becoming engorged. Her husband pressed his tongue at the opening of her vagina, swept upward, engaged her clit again, suctioning all the way up, again and again.
Where had he learned that technique? It felt sooooo good, she had back-to-back small orgasms. Whatever woman Kingston was cheating with definitely had schooled him well.
Kingston’s repetition picked up momentum.
Monet thrust her hips upward. Held the back of his head. Clamped her thighs over his ears, then grunted with pleasure. It was hard for her not to scream; if she had, she’d have awakened the girls.
“I want to feel all of you inside of me, baby.” Monet pushed the crown of her husband’s head, moving him away from her vagina.
Kingston tightly squeezed her ass. He began devouring her as though he were determined to make her cum.
Recalling the times when Kingston stroked deep inside her womb, and she could feel every inch of him, made her crave his dick, not his mouth. “Stop.” Monet scooted toward the headboard. “Let me get on top.” In case he’d be gone an additional four weeks. “I need you to beat this pussy all the way up,” she pleaded.
Kingston froze. Stared at her. “This is all about your needs, not mine.”
Shaking her head, Monet began to cry. She never had to beg her husband to fuck her. Kingston positioned himself on his back. Monet held his flaccid shaft in disbelief. She opened her mouth. Gripping him at the base, she passionately performed fellatio on her husband. The faster she sucked, the harder he became.
Monet climbed atop her husband, guided his head to the opening of her vagina. As she was bouncing and grinding, his limp dick unexpectedly slipped out.
“Shit.” Reaching behind her back, she tightened her fingers around his shaft, tried positioning him at her slippery opening.
Kingston held her hips. “That’s it, baby. Ride your dick,” he said, forcing her down harder and harder until he said, “Cum with me.”
Was he serious? Struggling to match his rhythm, she said, “Okay. Okay.” Her breathing was weighted with frustration.
“You ready?” he asked.
For what? Faking she was on the verge of climaxing, she said, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” More important than having an orgasm, Monet needed what only her husband could give her. Reassurance. “Baby, why did you leave us?” she asked, using her vaginal muscles to push out the head of his limp penis.
“Baby, I apologize. When my career ended, a part of me died inside. My being away wasn’t your fault,” he said, embracing her.
She placed her cheek on his chest. “I felt abandoned. Even with the girls and my mother here, at times,” she admitted. “For the first time since we were really young, I felt like you didn’t care . . . about me. About my feelings. You were cold-blooded, Kingston.”
His hug became heavy. Seemed as though his concerns had evaporated.
“Do you still love me?” Monet asked, looking up into her husband’s eyes.
His hesitation spoke volume.
“Of course, I do, baby. Didn’t you hear me say a part of me died. The one thing I was great at is gone for the rest of my life. I don’t know who I am anymore.” Tears escaped the corners of his eyes.
She heard the sadness in his voice. It was different from when his team lost a game. “Are you blaming yourself for you guys losing the championship?”
“Worse. No one calls to check on me. No ‘Kingston, how you doing, man? How’s the family?’ Nothing. I thought joining church would give clarity to who I am off the court.”
Kingston rolled her onto her side, then got out of bed.
“You are a loving, kind, caring husband and father,” Monet said.
He entered the bathroom. Staring at the ceiling, she heard the shower. Kingston entered his walk-in closet, appeared fully dressed, holding a designer carry-on bag.
“I know you’re not leaving,” Monet said.
“I have to usher at church tomorrow. I’ll call you when I get to Atlanta.” Kingston left their bedroom and closed the door.
Shaking her head, Monet was too confused and disgusted to cry.