Azmir has risen early and turned in late since our honeymoon. I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s trying to give me alone time with my family. Either that or he can’t manage too much time with squealing young girls who clearly have crushes on him. If Chyna lived close, I’d have to get a handle on the way she melts in my husband’s presence. But for now, I decide to live with it.
Azmir and I decided together to take my family out for dinner before their flight tonight as a means of sending them off properly. And outside of stomaching the frolics of teens, all I can think about is having Azmir all over me; his mouth, hands, arms, and…ummmm other extremities. I’ve been telling myself since we pulled off from the marina that I just have to get through dinner.
My god. We’ve just returned from our honeymoon where we made love all but two days—and that was from Azmir’s insistence of my receptacle needing a break. I don’t know what the wedding vows have done to me, but my appetite for this man has increased tenfold since saying I do. It doesn’t help that he’s sitting slouched, b-boy style on the bench next to me. Azmir is clad in a hoodie, premium denims that sag just a bit—thank goodness not too much—and classic construction Timberland boots.
Geesh! Azmir’s known to switch up his fashions, and rarely does he do the d-boy look with his work schedule. Nevertheless, other than his suits, nothing turns me on more than seeing him in a pair of jeans and classic six-inch Timbs! He’s mouthwateringly delicious and I want him so badly it hurts. It also doesn’t help that he’s in a mood. Not one that’s foul, but certainly isolated and absorbed. Oddly, the combination of it all turns me on. I need to change my focus and no—more alcohol won’t help.
“So,” I start to speak before my phone goes off. This is strange because I rarely receive any calls. I barely have friends, and I’m here with Azmir. “What have you guys done on your trip to L.A.?” I pose the question as I tap into my phone for the text app.
The girls start to giggle conspiratorially as they peer into their phones, much to my dismay. I’ve had enough of their childish antics and can only imagine what’s on their screens.
It’s from Azmir.
I know you wanna fuck.
W—what?
“I see y’all,” I look up to find my grandmother’s eyes pointing to Azmir and me. “…ain’t no better with them phones. I see y’all just typing away, too!”
“Well?” I push them for an answer. My grandmother just smiles, I’m sure camouflaging her frustrations with their silliness herself.
Completely jolted by Azmir’s text, I type back.
What makes you think that?
“We visited Ma at her place by the beach—” Chyna attempts.
“That’s Rayna’s place,” my grandmother sharply replies.
“That’s what I meant,” Chyna retorts, feigning rebuke. Then comes another string of laughter from the pair.
His response comes almost instantly.
I can feel your * reverberating from the bench.
My eyes slowly collapse as my head tilts down towards the floor. It’s the same accurate assessment he made that night at the reopening of Mahogany. I throw him a gaze, but Azmir completely ignores it, appearing heavily engaged in his phone.
“And what else, Chyna?” I try regaining myself.
“Ummmm…went to the beach,” she explains. “Went sightseeing, even though Grandma was being corny with acting all scared.
Tay chimes in, “We saw Hollywood, too. That was hyped!” The girls slap high fives with goofy smiles on their faces.
My phone tolls again.
I am going to fuck you so hard, your grandmother will hear you scream my name while she’s mid-transit.
“Ummmm…honey,” I call out to Azmir, catching him off guard. “I think we’re ready for the check now!”
Back in his Range Rover, Azmir drives with my grandmother in the front seat and Chyna, Tay and me in the back. The girls keep entertained by giggles and semi-verbal communications beyond my knowledge. They’re whispering things that I can’t hear even if I cared to. I look in the rearview mirror ahead to see Azmir concentrating on the road.
“Have you heard from Grandad?” I throw out to my grandmother. I serendipitously slipped her a generous check before we got back into the truck. She doesn’t know the amount, I’m not sure if she even knows it’s money in the envelop.
“I told you!” Chyna challenges Tay. “Ask her.”
I don’t give much thought to that exchange at the time, still listening out for the answer from my grandmother.
“I called him last—”
“Do it!” Chyna blurts out, cutting my grandmother off. “You want me to do it?” Chyna’s eyebrows peak.
“You know, I am so sick of you two already!” My grandmother barrels out. “Ask who what?” She twists in her seat to face them. I guess she, too, has had her fill of these two.
“Shhhhh!” Tay hushed Chyna.
With a grimace, Chyna argues, “What, Tay? My sister is cool. She ain’t gon’ trip.”
“Trip off what?” I ask, silently praying they aren’t about to confess to going through our drawers in the master suite.
“Shhhhhhh…” Tay tries again, fighting back her nervous laughter.