I couldn’t believe it.
I went to work Thursday and hustled lumber where it needed to go.
Alissa would be at work writing delivery tickets at the furniture store until noon. She would be home well before me. But when would she be in contact with this Sawyer? At work? On her break? At home?
Did this idiot meet her at the furniture store?
My jaw hurt by the time I got off of work from clenching my teeth so hard.
Our marriage had been perfect. She loved me. I loved her. We had spent our honeymoon in Seattle, driving out to see the beaches and lighthouses.
I had given her everything.
I entered the apartment expecting her to be gone: packed up and moved out.
Instead, I found her in our bathroom, applying makeup in her bra and panties.
I said, ‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting ready to go out with Sawyer.’
‘I don’t want you going anywhere.’
She sighed. ‘We’ve been over this, Enrique. I need to know where this goes. I’m going to go meet him and talk. It’s just a simple date.’
‘I can tell you where it goes, he wants in your pants!’
She stopped applying her makeup. ‘He’s already been there, and far more times than you have.’
I blinked several times. Somehow, that makes sense… ‘But you’re married to me.’
‘And I’ll be home right after.’
‘Don’t you think going out on a date is wrong for a married woman?’
‘Yes, but this is Sawyer, not a stranger. It’s not like I’m out hunting for a one night stand.’
‘Are you going to kiss him again?’
She looked at me kindly in the mirror and sighed. ‘Yes, if he wants to.’
I held up my hands. ‘You even admit it! Why are we married?’
‘Because I love you.’
‘And you’re going out to share hot kisses with another man tonight.’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Except that it is.’ I paced back and forth. ‘How would you like it if I went out on a hot date?’
‘But you wouldn’t; you love me.’
‘You’re going out with Sawyer.’
‘And I love you. Sawyer isn’t someone new. We made love in his bed—’
I groaned. ‘I don’t want to hear that shit.’
‘But we did. Hundreds of times. We know each other. We did it right where his wife slept—’
‘Alissa, enough. I forbid you to go out.’
Her face scrunched in annoyance. ‘What am I, your daughter or your wife? I’m not a piece of property–‘
‘Quit saying that.’
‘But it’s true. I’m not a TV set. I’m not a car. I’m an adult and a real person.’
I wasn’t getting through to her. ‘Maybe I should go with you. Show this Sawyer that you’re mine.’
‘No. He came along long before you. This is my situation I have to deal with—’
‘By kissing him.’
‘Don’t be rude.’ She came to me and hugged me. I wanted it, and not. She said, ‘You’re my husband and I love you more than anything—’
‘Except Sawyer.’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Then tell me exactly what it is?’
She let go. ‘I just tried that and you told me it was shit.’
‘So, it’s all about the sex.’
‘No, it isn’t. You weren’t listening.’
‘I was too, you bragged about the hundreds of times you fucked in his bed.’
‘I wasn’t bragging, Enrique, I was trying to make a point.’ She picked up her skirt. It was her shortest.
I coughed. ‘Why that skirt? You have longer ones.’
‘He likes my legs.’
I groaned and felt the heat of anger boiling up inside. ‘Yeah, wear that one.’ I got close and slid my hand up her skirt. ‘You probably shouldn’t wear panties.’
She gasped and looked at me in surprise. ‘Do you think I shouldn’t?’
Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Can this get any worse? ‘He doesn’t want to feel panties when he sticks his fingers up here. He wants to know your married pussy is open and available, just like a good married slut.’
She wasn’t getting the edge of my anger. She heaved in her breaths, excited. ‘That sounds so hot.’ She slid off her panties and tossed them down.
I looked down at the only armor she had against his probing fingers and it was as if the rumpled lace was a symbol of our marriage fallen with it.
But she rubbed up against me, her hot breath rapid and excited. ‘Should I let him finger me?’
‘You were going to anyway, weren’t you? You were going to let him stick his fingers up your pussy – that married pussy that belongs to me.’
Her hands trembled with lust as they roamed over my chest. ‘Yes.’
‘That’s what he wants – a married slut who will give him her pussy when he wants it.’
She hummed happily and closed her eyes. ‘I like it.’
I pushed her up against the wall and shoved my hand up her skirt. I shoved three fingers up into her. ‘You know what he really wants?’
She whimpered and I felt her pussy clamp on my fingers. ‘Wh-what?’
‘He wants to fuck you right on our bed where I sleep. He wants to fuck you hard for hours right there.’
She trembled and gasped.
I shoved my crotch into hers. ‘That’s what he wants.’ I let go and walked out of the bathroom. I was done trying to convince her.
And I was hard.
