Chapter 4: Rowen, Part 1

I glance over at my wife as we drive down the highway to Daniel's apartment. A glow passes over her face every time a street light goes by and I catch glimpses of her lips. Those lips were wrapped around my cock a couple hours ago. The thought of her on her knees, the round of her naked ass visible every time I looked down, while she gave me head makes me shift in my seat to relieve the pressure off my dick.

"Eyes on the road, Rookie," she says without looking up from her phone.

I chuckle. "Sorry." She tosses her cell on the floor when she's done, and I grab her hand, entwining our fingers and laying them on her thigh. My thumb makes lazy circles on the soft skin of her leg. When she shivers, I have to shift again.

"You're making it really hard for me to enjoy tonight when you touch me like that."

"Who's trying to be happy? I'm still pissed I got suckered into going."

"Oh, come on," she says with a grin as I turn into the parking lot of Daniel's complex. "It'll be fun to get together with your friends. Plus, after spending all that money on a vacation, I need you to clean them out."

"I plan to." By nature, I'm a people-watcher. Sometimes, it makes me have more insight than I want into other people's lives. But on poker night, I can take advantage of it by figuring out everyone's tells. "It'll serve them right for taking me away from my wife."

"I love it when you call me that."

Pulling into the indicated space and shifting the car into park, I lean over and cup Tiffany's face, bringing her mouth to mine. She immediately parts her lips to allow me entrance, and my tongue dives in, taking what I want and reminding her of what she's got all to herself.

A few heavy make-out minutes later, we break apart.

"What was that for?" She's breathing heavily, and it makes me happy knowing I made her breathless.

"Just a quick reminder of what you have waiting for you. You know. Just so you don't stay too long at Quincy's watching Starz."

Climbing out of the car, we immediately reach for each other as we head for the stairs to Daniel's second-story apartment.

"Speaking of Starz, do you have a kilt?"

I look at her quizzically. "What does one have to do with the other?"

She smirks. "Oh, just something Geni was saying today about that show Outlander and some argument over Irish versus Scottish kilts."

I groan. "That dumb show has gotten all the women riled up about what we wear underneath."

"So, you do have one?" Her eyes light up, and she gets a little bounce in her step as she tugs on my arm. "Is it at home?"

"I'm sure there's one at my parents' house, if they still have it." Tiffany deflates a little, which makes me chuckle. "We almost never wear them. My grandfather did, but that was actually in Ireland. Not Detroit. But if you're into role playing or something" - I pop her on the ass as she climbs the stairs in front of me, making her squeal - "I'll find one and wear it just for you."

She turns around and puts her hands on my shoulders. Leaning in, she kisses me slowly. "But will you tell me what you're wearing underneath?" I can feel her smiling against my lips.

"A man has to have some secrets," I banter then kiss her again. "You'll just have to find out for yerself." She has me worked up enough now, my accent bleeds through.

"Poker night cannot be over soon enough," she grumbles, grabbing my hand and pulling me the rest of the way to the apartment.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket as I knock. Before she can unlock the screen, Christian flings the door wide open.

"It's the Flanigans!" He hauls Tiffany in for a hug, a huge grin on his face, then yanks me in for one as well. "She did it, Rookie. She finally made an honest man out of you," he razzes, wrapping his arm around my neck and dragging me into the other room. I try to turn around for Tiffany, but she calls out behind me.

"I'm coming. Just texting Quincy back."

"Speak of the devil," Christian continues to joke, and I know we've been the topic of conversation. "Look who finally got his cherry popped. Does he look different to you?"

I know I turn beet red as he pretends to look me over. It happens every time I'm embarrassed or upset. I respond like any man would, I start throwing fake punches, which, as always, leads to a wrestling match between the two of us.

"Hey! No WAGs allowed tonight," Luca exclaims as he makes his way into the room. I break away from Christian, fake fighting forgotten, when I hear Tiffany respond.

"Don't mind me, guys. I'm just here to pick up some boxes for Quincy."

"Oh yeah. Let me get those." Daniel jumps up from his seat and heads down the hall.

Everyone else is opening bags of chips and lighting up cigars… your basic poker night shit. They all seem relaxed and carefree. Except Santos. Santos is radiating anger. I ignore him, hoping Tiffany doesn't notice. The guy still blames everyone else and their mother for his problems.

Randall leans back in his chair, oblivious to the boiling pot sitting next to him. "Seriously guys, congratulations. Rebecca was jealous you guys got hitched in Fiji. Says I need to take her there to get our vows renewed, or something."

I kiss Tiffany on the top of the head as she puts her arm around my waist. "You should," she says with a smile. "Fiji is just beautiful. And not just the way they do a wedding. I could live there. It's unlike anything I've ever seen."

Suddenly, Santos shoves his chair away from the table and stomps into the kitchen. The room goes silent. I vaguely notice Tiffany look at her phone again, too busy gauging the reactions of the rest of my teammates.

"Don't worry about him," Sammy asserts as he pours some Scotch in a glass. "He's just having a rough go of it."

"Um," Tiffany flashes her phone to me. "I'll be right back. I have to get something out of the kitchen for Quincy." I cock my head at her in question. She smiles and puts her hand on my forearm. "It's okay. I just have to get some red washcloth or something."

"Did she forget that?" Daniel questions as he walks back in the room, holding some boxes. "Chance won't go to sleep without that thing. It's weird what babies get attached to."

"You mean like that baby doll you used to carry around as a kid?" Christian chides while everyone laughs.

"First of all, quit getting my mama to show you all my baby pictures. She's a sucker for that shit and you know it." Daniel tosses the boxes on the couch and sits down at the table. "Second, it wasn't a doll. It was a Munchichi. And he was cool."

I reach for my chair, but before I can sit, there's yelling in the kitchen and words like "fucking groupie whore" are being tossed out.

"What the fuck?" I hear behind me as I bolt for the door. Swinging it open, I see Tiffany standing wide-eyed, Santos yelling in her face.

"You don't belong here. Do you hear me? She deserves to be here. You don't."

"Back. The fuck off. My wife. Before this gets any uglier."