The Storm

As long as I have her, then everything else will be okay.

She presses a kiss to my stomach. Her long hair brushes over my stomach and then my cock as she moves lower. Then, the next thing I feel is the silk of her tongue as she licks down the length of my cock from tip to root.

“Fuck,” I moan against her pussy, my hips pushing up. I want more, need more.

I feel her hand wrap around the base of my cock. Then, her hot, wet mouth engulfs my cock, and she takes me in one long, hard suck that has my eyes rolling back in my head.

Sweet Jesus.

My wife gives the best blow jobs.

I momentarily lose concentration on what I was doing. Momentarily. This is me we’re talking about.

Minutes later, Tru is coming apart under my mouth. And with the way her mouth has been working my cock, I’m not far behind her.

She starts to move off me, her mouth still on me. I grab ahold of her, my arm around her waist. My cock comes out of her mouth with a pop.

Keeping hold of Tru, I get up on my knees, putting her on all fours. I knee her legs apart. Then, I push my cock deep inside her.

“Fuck…” I groan. And I get high off the sound of her lustful moan, knowing how much she wants and needs me.

Reaching out, I gather her hair, wrapping it around my hand. With my other hand gripping her hip, I start fucking her.

“Jake…” My name slips from her lips sounding breathy and needy.

“Talk dirty to me, babe.”

She groans and then says, “Dame mas duro, Jake! Dame lo que yo necesito.”

Those words from her, and I’m undone.

I know exactly what that means. Being with Tru all these years, I’ve picked up on a few things and meanings, especially the dirty words. And nothing does it for me like her telling me in her native tongue to fuck her harder and give her what she wants.

And that’s just what I do. I pound into her, hard, exactly like we both need.

“Fuck, Jake! I’m…coming!” she cries out, her pussy quickly convulsing around my cock, squeezing me hard.

But I’m nowhere near done.

I flip Tru over onto her back and push inside her. Dipping my head, I take her nipple into my mouth, laving it with my tongue.

I fucking love Tru’s body. I will never get enough of her.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, and she pulls my mouth up to hers. Her tongue slips into my mouth, and I lose my damn mind. Grabbing her hands, I pin them to the bed, and I start fucking her like a madman.

With the sound of wet flesh slapping wet flesh and the feel of her tongue in my mouth, her fingers gripping mine, her legs wrapped around me, I’m coming hard. I always come hard with Tru.

“Fuck…I’m coming, babe. I’m fucking…coming!”

I press my forehead against her cheek as I ride my orgasm out in her, filling her with all I have.

She moves her head a little, and presses a kiss to my hair. “You okay?” She sounds breathless.

My own breaths are out of control. My heart is pounding.

I lift my head and stare down at her. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine. I’m amazing. You okay? I was rough with you.”

I let go of her hands. Resting down on my elbow, supporting my weight, I smooth her hair off her face.

“You’re always rough with me.” She smiles. “And I love it.”

“I love that you love it.” I grin before brushing my lips over hers.

“I don’t want to move,” she says.

“Why would we move?” I tip my head back, looking in her eyes. “The kids are at your parents. I see no reason to move.”

“We need to clean up.”

I shake my head at her.

“No?” she says.

“No,” I echo.

My cock is still inside her and semi-hard. I pull out a little and then push back inside.

She lets out a gasp, lust glazing her eyes. “You not done?” she breathes.

Leaning close, I nip her lower lip with my teeth. “I haven’t even fucking started.”

I took the DNA test a few days ago. A swab in my mouth—that was all it was.

The results are due back today.

Bob, Jonny’s dad, did his DNA test the same day I did. He’s Jonny’s only living relative. Jonny’s mom, Lyn, died two years ago. She had a stroke and never recovered.

I briefly spoke to Bob the other day. There wasn’t a lot we could say. I know he wants Storm to be Jonny’s. Fuck, so do I.

But there is the chance he could be mine.

And not to sound derogatory against Tiffany, but there’s also the chance that Storm is neither Jonny’s or mine.

Both Tru and I are at home today. There was no way I could go into the label today. And Tru didn’t want to go to work. She wanted to be here when the call came in.

JJ and Billy are at school. Belle is spending the day with Tru’s mom and dad.

Tru and I are shielding the kids from this. We haven’t told them anything, but they know something’s going on. They’re smart kids.

Stuart has kept it out of the press so far. The bare minimum of people knows. Besides Stuart and Jerry—my lawyer—Bob and his lawyer, Eva and Billy, and Simone know, but Denny doesn’t know. Tru swore Simone to secrecy.

I don’t want Denny or Tom to know yet—not until I know either way.

I don’t want them getting their hopes up that Storm might be Jonny’s son because I know they would.

I know because it’s what I would want—do want.

I’m sitting at the breakfast bar, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee, pretending to read some papers that Stuart sent over yesterday for a new band we’re signing. The TV is on low in the background, filling the silence.

Tru is cleaning. She’s been at it since first thing this morning. There’s no need for her to clean because we have a cleaner, but I know she’s doing it to keep busy. So far, she’s emptied the cupboards out and cleaned them. Then, she cleaned the fridge. Now, she’s wiping down surfaces and cupboard doors.

I think she’s running out of things to clean.

I’m just hoping this fucking call comes in soon.

I get up from my stool and take my coffee to the sink. After pouring it out, I rinse the cup and put it in the dishwasher.

Then, I walk over to Tru. I turn her around, pull her close, and wrap my arms around her. She sinks into my body, her arms coming around my waist.

I press my lips to the top of her head. “It’s going to be okay,” I say softly.

She releases a breath against my chest and gently nods her head.

My cell starts to ring on the breakfast bar. Tru’s body tenses in my arms. She lifts her head and stares up at me.

This is it.

I can see the fear in her eyes, and it elevates my own.

I’m sure that Storm isn’t mine. But Tru’s worries make my own heighten.

I kiss her forehead. Then, I walk over to the breakfast bar and pick up my cell, glancing at the screen.

“It’s my lawyer,” I tell Tru.

My heart sets off beating like a motherfucker, and my hand trembles. I can feel myself starting to waver.

I turn to her. “Tru…”

She meets my stare, hers steely with determination and looking a hell of a lot stronger than they did a moment ago.

But that’s Tru. When I can’t be strong, she is for the both of us.