83 Words about Marriage

Mahjong loses all its appeal after he tips my head back, his lips mashing against mine. A smile on those lips and he slips away. I close the computer and follow him to the couch where he’s reading, stripping off my shirt as I do and straddling him. “Thinking about doing something?” I say, teasing the drawstring of his flannel pants. “I was, but,” then he says those eights words that know me so well, “you smell like cows and taste like gin.”

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