“Nothin’. You got somewhere I can drop you or is your car here?”
“I have my car, but I thought I’d stay with you tonight.” Her plump lips screw into a pout.
“Some other time. I have something to take care of.” I pull her in for a kiss goodbye. “Don’t be giving that pussy up to anyone.”
She laughs. “You don’t own me, Abel.”
“It’s a damn shame too.” I swat her ass and climb on my motorcycle. As I pull out, she’s walking back in the club probably to fuck Trucker for all the money he threw at her all night. I don’t give a fuck if she does. The bitch ain’t shit to me really. I roar down the road and take a right making for home.
Rolling up to the gate, it opens automatically for me. I salute the guard working the night shift and drive through. The front lawn is lit up and I drive on around to the garage to park my bike. The three-car garage holds Ainsley’s new car, a Maserati GranTurismo. Her graduation gift to herself. And yet she doesn’t want her daddy’s blood money. Yeah right.
I smoke another cigarette before going in. She doesn’t like me smoking in the house. Probably because it makes her think of Axel. I walk in through the back-patio doors and there she is. My wife’s dark hair hangs down her back in loose waves but has streaks of copper and red in the right light. She’s got on these little white shorts with pink hearts on them and a matching thin tank top. Petunia, her french bulldog barks at her ankles. Ainsley bends down to pick her up. I can’t help but gaze at her lean tan legs while getting a full view of her ass cheeks. She’d never be up on a damn pole, but I’d be a lair if I said I wouldn’t love to see her in action.
I open the back door and Ainsley jumps at the blare of the alarm. I smirk and put the password in before the police are alerted. “Easy, it’s me.” Petunia looks right at me and lets out a low growl.
“It’s alright, sweet girl, I won’t let that scary jerk hurt you.”
I roll my eyes as she cuddles the little tan butterball. “What did you want when you called?”
“It’s not important. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Liar. It’s Friday night you know damn good and well you cockblocked my night.”
“I don’t care who you fuck.”
“That’s two. Want to go for three?”
She puts the dog down and moves to the fridge, taking out a fruit tray. “I had another delivery today.”
“What was it this time?”
Ainsley swallows her slice of cantaloupe. “It’s in the garbage out back. I didn’t know what to do with it.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“So you called and had me running for some fucking flowers.”
“I told you to forget it. You came because you wanted to.”
“No, I didn’t come.”
This time it’s her doing the eye rolling. “Poor baby.” Popping a strawberry in her mouth she starts chewing and making a weird face.
“You okay?”
Spitting into a paper towel she shakes her head and tosses it in the trash under the sink. “Like you give a shit about me. I’m sure it was just too ripe.”
I move past her to go to the fridge. I take a bite of the strawberries. “Tastes good and juicy to me.” I lick my lips and grab a beer.
“Aren’t you going to get rid of it?”
“I said I’d handle it.”