Chapter 19

It was mid-morning before I clambered from bed. The sun had broken through the clouds, chasing the rain off into the distant mountains, and the sky was blue. By the time I stepped from the bathroom, Bobby had unpacked and downstairs. From the couch, he watched me in silence while I gulped coffee and downed a quick breakfast. Although he kept opening his mouth to speak, his lips would seal.

And as much as part of me wanted to talk, my mind only whirled.

Was it wrong of me to remain silent? Perhaps. It was clear my husband was disappointed in himself. Perhaps in me as well. For the first time in our marriage, he understood the lie. The craving within me for more. And that was my fault. A long time ago, maybe even at the beginning, I should’ve explained. But there wasn’t much Bobby could do to fix it. And that, from the way he tracked me from the couch that morning, he understood.

Of course, he didn’t know about the dinner with Pete. Or what had happened afterwards. Not yet. Each glance I sent him was met with a nervous grin. For a split second, his eyes would reflect a hopeful look. He wanted to try again. And I needed to let him.

But first, he deserved to know. It was far past time to confess everything. At least we could discuss horny little fantasy boy, Jake. And I’d tell him about Evan. But that would lead right back to Pete. A longer confession.

At last, although my breath hitched, I turned to him after lunch, and forced a smile. “Let’s spend the afternoon in the hot tub. Just us and this.” I held up a bottle of bourbon.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed. That was how this whole Pete event had begun. But after flicking his gaze from the booze to me, he nodded. As I headed upstairs to change, his gaze followed me. His was an almost calm, neutral expression.

Why? There would be more than my confessions. What I’d done, whether he’d heard all the details or not, he’d realized. And at some level, the man I loved was okay with it. Because of course he’d enjoyed so much of what I’d done already.

He just couldn’t admit it aloud.

Not yet.

If Bobby had any lingering doubt that I’d changed, and become what he’d fantasized about, once I strode into the warm sunshine, it vaporized. As quickly as his swim trunks tented. In a red micro-kini, three miniscule triangles and strings, I sashayed to the tub and settled into the jets.

After climbing into the swirling water, he sank onto one of the molded seats. As soon as I’d poured us full tumblers of whiskey, I moved to straddle his lap. While sipping, I gazed down at him. With each slow grind of my pelvis into his stiff rod, hissing gasps fled his shaking lips.

It was time. Way beyond the right time.

As a smile crossed my face, my mouth opened to speak.

“I’m sorry!” Bobby’s strident voice erupted. As he locked his glittering green eyes on mine, words rushed from him. “I really am! I know I should”—he sighed, his shoulders falling—”be a better lover. You deserve a better lover. Somebody who’ll...” As sudden as the outburst, his words faltered. And after taking a long swig, he hung his head.

With the sun warming my back, I took our glasses away before grasping his hands. When I lifted them, his eyes widened as I drove them under the tiny red triangles over my boobs. As the top shoved upwards, he cupped me. When he clenched his fingertips, trapping my hardened stems, a moan slithered from my lips.

“Mmm, nice.” Deep within me, fires flickered. “H-harder, Bobby boy. Twist them.”

At first, air flew from him when he recognized what I’d called him, but his digits tightened. My whimper became a long, winding groan. As I squirmed in his lap, tremors raced through my husband. He flicked his gaze to my rubbery stems, clamped by his fingers.

“I ... I, uh, don’t want to hurt you.” His wavering voice should’ve been warming, calming, and loving, but my heart froze. With my lips curling into a snarl, I gazed at him.

“In college, I had a boyfriend. His name was Evan.” Bobby only nodded. He knew that part well; not a secret. “He used me, Bobby boy. Owned every inch of me. Such wonderful torment he inflicted. Whips, bondage, a little, no more than a little, torture.” At the rise in my tone, my husband’s eyes widened. With a gulp, he glanced at his fingers and the rosy red stubs between them. “And I loved everything about it, babe. And, well, Pete has...”

Watching the lightbulb in Bobby’s skull click on brought a grin to my face. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Yeah, we’d transcended his fantasy. And uncovered my old reality. The one I’d craved for so very long. As his eyes grew white-rimmed, his fingertips tightened. When a hungry groan tore from my lips while I thrust into his pelvis, he swallowed and nodded.

For several seconds, my mind swirled. Would this be too much for him? What would my husband do when I admitted the next nugget? With a sigh, I lifted his hands from me and slipped back to sit in the plastic seat across from him. As forceful bubbles battered me, I replaced my top. After lifting my whiskey, I caught his eyes over the rim as I drank.

Pale-faced despite the sunlight, he was silent. In his shaky fingers, his tumbler trembled as his gaze remained locked on me. Within my spinning mind, I struggled to weave words and thoughts. At last, I sighed. There was no other way to say it. After another gulp of whiskey, I skimmed my lips with my tongue, watching him track its slow movement.

“Evan would fuck me all day long, Bobby. He’d never stop. And he’d share me with his friends.” Despite his eyes widening and the glass shaking ever quicker, my husband only shifted in his seat. “And I would. I’d fuck them all. For days, babe. Days. And nights. Some weeks were a blur.”