Squeak

Tea Time

Erik

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face, or I'll slap it off," my wife threatened as she nursed my wounds. I ignored her and kissed her on the cheek, smearing some of my blood from my nose on her face. I pulled away and grinned. The blood on her cheek would be an interesting conversation starter at dinner.

"If you wanted to fuck, that's all you had to say."

"You did not have to traumatize our daughter like that."

I snorted. "Traumatize? You're laying it on pretty thick, don't you think?"

"No, I'm not. Leave our daughter out of your petty bullshit with Adrian. She's been jerked around enough as it is," Jezebel declared.

"Is this a bad time to tell you that I told my mother that she couldn't have access to Izabel after tonight until she leaves my father?"

"Don't be surprised when you receive a call in the middle of the night informing you that your mother slit her wrists," she sighed.

"I hope that wouldn't happen, but she needs to fucking snap out of it."

Jezebel sighed and dabbed at my bleeding eyebrow with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said in a tone that meant 'something.'

"Lie better."

"Your mother loves being a grandmother."

"Not enough if she stays with my father."

She snorted, tossed the blood-stained cotton ball in the trash, and reached for another one. "Do you know how hard it is to leave a King?"

"Enlighten me."

"You King men are like the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden. One bite, and you're a goner."

"If I'm the apple, then who's the snake?"

I groaned when Jezebel latched onto my bottom lip that had been split by Adrian. She bit me, and blood pooled in my mouth. My fingers dug into her ass when her tongue invaded. I groaned pathetically and began easing her skirt up her hips as she became more aggressive. We were in the butler's pantry off the main kitchen, adding a dangerous thrill to our actions. Anyone could walk in on us at any moment, and if God truly existed, it'd be Adrian.

"Don't pull away; come back," I whispered when she backed off.

"I'm the snake, King."

I glared at her sternly. "What do you mean, you're the snake?"

I don't know what I'll do if Jezebel has been playing me like a fiddle.

"I'm the snake because I've convinced myself to take a bite from the apple. It's okay, Jezebel. Just a nibble; what's the worst that can happen? To a certain extent, I'm your mother, but there is one glaring difference between us—I chose this life, she didn't. I think your mother deserves more grace than what she's given. It's easy to say she should leave this, she should do that, and according to your father, she did try, and what happened? The love of her life was brutally murdered in front of her. Where is she going to go, King? Does she even have any family left? Does she even have the emotional capability to be alone? Are you prepared to be there for her in the middle of the night when she's not lucid? Your mother may be 41, but she's still that 17-year-old girl walking home from Bible Study that was snatched off the streets by a monster. I know how you remember your mother before you were incarcerated, but she's good with Izabel, and they make each other happy. You haven't been here to see that. Instead of cutting your mother off from the one joy in her life, you should get her professional help instead—something that has never been done for her before."