47. 🔧 Broken Suspension

**JUSTICE**

I’ve never wanted to perform a beat down on someone more than I want to do on her ex. What a damn prick that Krish is to bring up the past.
Keke says she wants us to read his letter together. She says it will keep everything out in the open and give her closure.
Hell, I’d like closure too.
Closing my hands around that prick’s windpipe until the bastard goes limp.
“Do you think that reading his words will drudge up old feelings? Do you think I will pine for old times?” she asks me when she notes my dark scowl.
Her face is impassive. I can’t tell what Keke is thinking. She could either be laughing on the inside or ready to tear me a new one.
“No, Keke. I don’t think that. I just don’t like to see you upset.”
She casts her eyes down to the envelope in her hand. We are in bed. Keke has her head on my shoulder and a hand on my middle. One of her legs is tangled up in the sheet, half exposed, the other is tucked under the covers partly covering mine. She has on my gray t-shirt and I’m wearing the matching sleep pants. It’s late. After her parents left, we sat talking with Trey until after eleven and with the anxiety of the plane ride, I’m drained. She is as well. I can tell how her eyes fluttered closed then sprang open as the hour got later and later. Still, we need to get through this, neither of us will be able to sleep right if we don’t.
And I am hoping that is the greatest of our worries.
“Do you want me to read it for you?”
She gives me a hopeful look. “Out loud you mean?”
“Actually, I was just going to put it to my forehead and project the words to you.”
She laughs. Just what I was going for.
With a chuckle she says, “Yeah, yeah, okay. Here.”
She hands me the envelope. Without fanfare, I slit it open with my thumb. I take out the one page, and when I unfold it, something colorful flutters to the bed. Keke snatches it up before I can fully register what it is. I hardly pay attention as I’m busy scanning the few lines, ignoring the way my breath hitches at the first line. After a moment, I start saying the words Krish put to paper.
*My heart,*
*It took me years to write this letter with the words I should have told you long ago. If I had been born a different man, a stronger man, I would have never let you go. You completed me, I know that now. From the day I said goodbye, I lost that special part of me that you filled.*
*I’m still committed to my marriage. I have to be, it is my only option, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of you, want to wake up next to you and see your smile.*
*With love always,*
*Krish.*
I look over and see her studying the card that fell from the letter. It is an abstract painting of her on a canvas half the size of a postcard. I know it is her because there is no way to mistake her beautiful face in the throes of ecstasy. I’ve taken her there more than a few times…I guess the same as he has.
I should be jealous, and yeah, I am, but that takes second place to what she is thinking.
She plucks the letter from my hand and places it, the envelope, and the picture on her nightstand. Folding her hands across her chest she slumps into the pillows, her face as expressionless as before.
“So?” I ask, after moments of silence.
“I don’t know, Justice. That letter…this painting…”
Worry at what I read between the lines seizes my heart.
“Do you still have feelings for him, Keke?” I murmur.
She shakes her head so vehemently, her light-pink sleep scarf comes askew. “No. Not even. This…” She holds up the letter, “Has helped me to forgive him, I guess, but further than that…I feel…nothing.”
I tip her chin up so I can look into her eyes, “Are you sure?”
Her gaze is as bright as a billion stars. Full of love for me. “How can I feel anything for him, when I have all of you?”
She closes her eyes as I dip my head. The energy in our kiss flows through us and it’s a long, long time before we finally get some sleep.



With minimal fuss, we were able to work out a compromise with the kids and Keke’s family. Christmas Eve we spent in Oakland and Christmas Day we spent in New York.
It was the best Christmas I’d ever had. Not for the presents I received, even though the kids’ gift of an engraved wrench and screwdriver and Keke’s turquoise and white tie-died t-shirt were special, it was the fact that I had a family I could call my own. For me, nothing could beat that.
Using sex and danger to keep my mind off what I had become, I almost didn’t see what life had to offer. Now, I know. Being a parent is awesome, and having a fiancée, soon to be my wife, is even better.
Keke.
She rocks my world with her laugh, her smile and beautiful brown eyes.
Even now, a week after I followed her to California, we have fallen into our old routine as if we had never been apart. Keke has taken up her old duties at Clancy’s until after the New Year when my new manager starts. The guys like that she will be permanently in her life and life in the remodeled brownstone is all I could hope for and more than what I deserve.
Keke’s parents and Trey are coming tomorrow for New Year’s Eve and will stay until two days after New Year’s Day.
Her dad and I talk often. From that first day, I worked to win him over. It was easier than I expected as our love for cars (and my devotion to his daughter) helped smooth the way. Once he even slipped up and called me “Son.” I didn’t make a mention of it over the phone, but damn if I didn’t feel a little teary eyed.
And I just know, had he lived, my father would have loved Keke and her family just as much I do.
I enter our bedroom to find Keke in our walk-in closet, putting up laundry that she insists on doing herself. She cancelled the service I used as soon as we had gotten back to New York. She told me she wanted to run our home on her own and that includes doing the housework…and getting the kids to pitch in. With smiles on their faces, even Cam, they do a damn good job of keeping things clean and tidy.
I circle my arms around her while she places a stack of my white undershirts in my drawer and closes it shut. She then places her hands on top of mine and leans into me. I breathe deeply of her spicy scent.
A few days ago, I had asked her where she bought her perfume and she old me from a shop in Prague near the big castle on the river.
Since the beautiful city is a stop on our honeymoon, I’ll buy her some more and get a signature scent of my own as well.
She runs a hand up my forearm and then back down to my wrist. “Is it time to go back to the bar already?”
“We don’t have to go back, Sebastian and Sam volunteered to work the rest of the week…including New Year’s Eve.”
“Oh, that’s nice…wait! You didn’t *make* them work…did you?”
I chuckle, she knows me too well. “I didn’t,” I answer honestly. “At least…not this time.”
She turns in my arms to loop her own around my neck and tilt her head up for a kiss. I don’t hesitate fulfilling her wish. I love tasting her succulent lips…running my tongue along the seam before plunging it into her mouth.
The kids are at the movies with friends, and I, for one, am damn glad we are alone. We can make as much noise as we want. Not that it matters. I had Blake soundproof the bedroom as a precaution.
Our kisses progress into pets…prods and insertions as our clothes come off piece by piece. We sink to the floor and use her discarded blue jeans as makeshift pillow. Now that my fiancée is comfortable, I slide into her warm heat. Keke rocks her hips, taking in all my length.
“Tell, me K. Tell me what you told me in Stockton.” Caging her in my arms and holding myself up on my palms, I stop moving, waiting for her reply.
“Justice,” she breathes. “Please.”
“No,” I say lifting a hand to tap her beautiful nose. “I’m not going to give you what you want until I get mine.”
She lifts and lowers her hips, sliding me in and out of her slickness without my permission. I let her continue as she begins to talk.
“I told you we’d try to have kids of our own and that I’d also think about adoption. I told you…*Oh*…I told you I’d take you to see the beauty of this world.”
I join her rhythm seamlessly, my heart pumping to full capacity like I was climbing a mountain. My cock pulses inside her walls, hitting spots that make her moan. “I’m going to hold you to that, K. You won’t let me down, will you?”
I *know* she won’t. I just like what happens when I make her mad. Questioning her ability to keep her promises does that—it’s like flipping a switch.
She rises up and pushes me backward onto the floor, riding me. Her thighs clamp around mine like a vice and her hair bounces as much as her luscious tits.
“Shut up, Justice, and fuck me. Fuck me like you mean it.”
*Damn. That’s my K.*
I shoot loads when her alter ego comes out and takes over.
Who knew letting her have control *on occasion* would be so damn sweet?