“She wanted me to break this dick off in her one more time,” I deadpanned.
“And what did you say?”
“The fuck you mean, Myome?” I grinned.
Myome reached up and slapped my ass a second time.
“You think this shit is funny and it’s not!” She jerked away from me and walked off.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
“You better be glad I like that crazy shit.” I forced a laugh but my smile dropped when I saw she genuinely looked upset and close to tears. “Baby, I told Monica I was good on her and that I wasmarried,” I stressed the word. “And I stand on that shit, Myome, in your face and behind your back. I’m not stepping outon you or our marriage. You’re Mrs. King and you gon’ be Mrs. King for the rest of eternity. I’m stamping that shit. I could see myself spending the rest of my life with your crazy, pretty, smart, talented ass. Why would I fuck that up for a bitch who told the world I hit her?” I gripped her throat and tilted her head back. “Look me in my face and tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know,” she scoffed. “She’s pretty and talented and rich and you were together for two fucking years, Berlin.”
Berlin. The switch from Drix back to Berlin had the corners of my mouth tilting up.
“You’re prettier and more talented and you don’t need to be rich when I’m rich. This half yo’ shit.” I leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth then brought my lips to her ear. “You’re it for me, Twin. I promise you that. Shit. I love yo’ ass.” I pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I love you, Yo,” I repeated.
She blinked up at me then grabbed my face and yanked it down to kiss me. My hands went to her hips and we kissed for a while before pulling back.
“I couldn’t see myself doing this married thing with anyone else either,” she confessed.
“Good because you won’t get a chance to.” I kissed her again. “I’m just asking that you trust me until I give you a reason not to.”
She exhaled and nodded at that. “Okay.”
I let my hands drift to her ass and squeezed her cheeks.
“What’ll make you feel better?”
“Stamping you with ‘belongs to Myome’ on your forehead.” She forced a smile and I chuckled.
“Man, come on.” I grabbed her hand and she laughed while I led her along.
I cursed when Monica rounded the corner, microphone in hand. She paused and looked me and Myome up and down.I pulled my wife into my side and tossed my arm over her shoulders.
“The next time you put your hand on my husband, I’m going to fuck you up and give you a reason to be a cop caller,” Myome warned. “Don’t ever think you can play with me and not get stomped out, bitch, and the same man you’re being dumb behind is going to come bail me out. Know that.” She linked our fingers and led me away.
I leaned down and kissed the side of her head.
I felt her loosen up the further we got from Monica while we crossed the festival grounds.
“Do you really think we did good?” she asked after a few minutes in silence.
“Yeah. It looked great and the crowd was feeling the songs and the performance; so I’m going to say it was a win.”
“Good.” Myome paused, put a hand on my shoulder, and yanked her shoes off.
I let her finish then hoisted her over my shoulder to carry her to the car. I held her body with one hand and texted with the other.
A few people recognized Myome and spoke while I carried her to the car. By the time we got to it, I’d already gotten confirmation from a tattoo artist I knew, Arris, who could take me as a walk-in.
We were twenty minutes into our drive when Myome realized I’d branched off and we weren’t headed straight home. She looked at me but I kept my eyes on the road.
“Where are we going?”
“To brand my forehead,” I deadpanned, one hand on my steering wheel, the other under my face.