Her firm tug on his hair spurred him to hold her in place as he drove into her slick pussy in search of his own ecstasy.
Their gazes locked, and she said, “Come for me.”
He stilled as a shuddering orgasm hit and had him seeing more vibrant colors than he’d witnessed in the sky.
After their morning on the mountain, the rest of the day had been spent lounging around the house and in the backyard, but at around six in the afternoon, Retta suggested they prepare a meal. That’s how Duncan found himself arranging vegetables picked from Ms. Edie’s garden onto wooden skewers. Ms. Edie excluded herself from the process and was instead completing a Sudoku puzzle on her tablet at the kitchen counter.
“Don’t make them too big, Coretta.”
Duncan laughed at the exasperated look on Retta’s face as she adjusted the size of her zucchini slices. This all felt comfortably domestic.
“You ready for the wedding? Everything ironed out and pressed? You know how they are,” Ms. Edie said.
Retta shook her head, catching his questioning look. “She’s under the impression that my dad’s side of the family is snobbish.”
“They are,” the older woman said. “I’m sorry I don’t know the different regions that make wine. And if I have to sprain my tongue to pronounce an alcoholic drink, is it really worth it?”
“Is that why you’re not coming to the wedding?” Duncan asked, smiling.
Ms. Edie put down her tablet. “Well, that and the fact the groom is—”
Retta coughed and banged the counter.
He looked between the women as they communicated with their eyes.
“What exactly happens at weddings?” he asked, taking that as a cue to change subjects.
“You’ve never been to one?” Retta asked.
“I’ve seen it in movies, and I went to a few as a kid.”
Retta dumped another heap of vegetables in front of him. “Oh, it’s basically drunk dancing to Top 40 hits till early in the morning.”
“So, a good time?” he asked.
“If people could stop pulling out their phones on the dance floor, it could be. Nobody wants to see themselves all over social media mid-twerk, sweaty, and tipsy.”
He smiled at her. “Are you speaking from experience?”
“Yes, and now all I do at weddings are the line dances.”
“Don’t forget the long-winded speeches,” Ms. Edie said. “Every single one I’ve heard can be shortened. Your Vegas trip isn’t special.”
Duncan laughed thinking about the brutal process he’d been through trying to formulate a speech these last few weeks. “I’ll have to hire you to look over mine then.”
“What’s it for? Wedding? Bar mitzvah? Retirement?” Ms. Edie asked, counting off the options on her hand. “I’ll tell you exactly what you need to say.”
“My parents’ divorce party.”
Ms. Edie blinked at him for several seconds. “I’m sorry. Did you say divorceparty?”
“Granny,” Retta said. Her tone had a subtle warning.
He nodded and couldn’t stop smiling as the older woman stood up, grabbed her tablet and coffee mug, and walked out of the room.
Sighing, Retta went on to finish chopping the vegetables with skillful precision.
When she moved over to his area to expedite the skewering, she asked, “So your parents are still going through with it? The divorce, I mean.”
