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With my hands locked behind his head, I held him to me so we could kiss and kiss some more. When he tried to pull back, I held on, and he lifted my shoulders off the bed.
“Give me what I want,” I growled through clenched teeth.
“You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you, baby,” he promised and slammed into me.
“Fuck yes,” I shouted and wondered briefly if the neighbors had heard it. Then, like before, he erased my terrible habit of getting lost in thought while in the throes of ecstasy. The man held good to his promise, because by the time we both came, I thought my left hip might actually be dislocated.
Carmen crumpled to an exhausted heap beside me and pulled my back into his front in a full-body cuddle. Our skin was slick with perspiration, and I had to fight every urge to sneak a little taste of his flesh. I knew he’d taste salty and musky, and I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to stop the obsessive thoughts.
We were in big, dangerous trouble here. I felt it through every breath I took in rhythm with his, and in every overheated pore that rejoiced when the ceiling fan clicked on above us. I turned my head to look up at the thing, realizing I hadn’t even noticed it had been there before it started turning.
Carmen tossed a little remote to the mattress beside his pillow and mumbled, “Just for a few minutes. If it’s too cold for you to sleep, I’ll click it off when I cool down.”
“’Kay,” I mumbled because I was crashing fast. Two more minutes, and I’d be gone for the night. Maybe, just maybe, I’d make it through the entire night.
“Thank you. Again.” I chuckled lightly after that one but added, “Night.”
“Night, Storm. Sleep well,” my husband replied, and we were fast asleep moments later.
Chapter Eleven
Carmen
Despite the interrupted sleep throughout the night, the morning was already off to an exceptional start. When the little woman stirred in my embrace, I was disappointed to have to untangle from her.
My morning wood wanted to blaze in the woman’s fireplace with painful urgency. I trudged to the bathroom and cranked the water in the shower to the fully hot position. It only took a couple of minutes to warm up, so I leaned against the wall and thought about last night.
I knew I had it bad for Agatha before we fucked, but now that we finally had? Man, there was no way I would let her leave when our year was up. So many times I’d been tempted to open that journal I swiped, but the long-range win would well be worth my unsatisfied curiosity. By far. Plus, it was the only bargaining chip I had. If I negated its value by going back on my word, I’d really be screwed.
We were only a few days into our arrangement, and I was head over heels for the girl. And sure, we had a few dates before we got married, but I felt like I saw some new, fascinating, and glorious parts of her the night before.
My wife didn’t handle emotions well. That was one major takeaway from the mind-blowing sex we had. She thought I didn’t see the mini breakdown after I pulled three back-to-back orgasms out of her. But I expected the waterworks to switch on from past experiences with my ex.
Whenever we had intense sex, she would cry. And our sex was nothing like what I experienced with Agatha. Most of the time, I was positive my ex was fantasizing about someone else fucking her, and toward the end of our relationship, it didn’t even matter or hurt the way it once had.
Agatha was a pro at stuffing down emotions, though. She had those tears retreating in no time. At most only two escaped before she regained control and masked the feelings. Now, I couldn’t help but wonder what had been going through her mind when she broke down. I doubted she’d tell me if I asked.
Another small victory in our short time together was that she hadn’t been drinking. Well, that I knew of, at least. Between yesterday morning and the morning before, I’d sneaked all the liquor I had in the apartment out with me when I went to work. The bottles found a cozy new home in the complex’s dumpster.
Now, if she wanted a drink, she’d have to source alcohol from somewhere else. The plus side of that was that she had very limited funds, and that shit wasn’t cheap.
Yes, the tactic was a bit underhanded, but I was willing to do what it took to preserve the beautiful, vibrant, smart, and funny woman I married. I would not sit by and watch her waste her life.
I was also overjoyed how well she responded to my dominant side. It wasn’t a persona I displayed to the everyday world, but I couldn’t be any other way in the bedroom at this point. Once I got a taste of that dynamic, I knew it was what had been missing in my previous encounters.
Maybe if I had taken charge of Kate early on, she would’ve respected me enough to have been faithful. Infidelity would never be tolerated again in my world. I was much better at reading people now than I was then.
When I got to my desk, the first thing I did was send my sister an email. We were long overdue for a lunch date, and I was excited to tell her about Agatha.
The jury was still out if I would go into the whole marriage-by-intoxication aspect of our relationship, though. There was so much more going on between us, and I knew that fact could be a huge red flag for people. I just wanted my family to be happy for me. My sister generally was, but my parents were another story all together.
Over recent years, both my mother and father had become very bitter. I was still trying to figure out why, exactly, but it made them unpleasant to be around. No matter what good news I shared, one of them would point out a negative. Would it be so hard to just be happy because I was happy? When I brought up the problem to my sister, she echoed my experience with our folks as well as her general dislike for their negativity.
Gray shared a few incidents she recently had with our mother in particular, and I was appalled. While my father had become my harsh critic, our mother was hers. When you considered our same-sex parent was our biggest influence in life, their behavior and attitudes sucked even more.
My inbox chimed when a response came back from my sibling. Elijah still wasn’t in, so I opened the personal email and couldn’t help the broad smile while I read her note.
Well, hello there! I was starting to worry because I haven’t heard from you in more days than I prefer. Guess I could’ve reached out sooner too, though. I would love to meet for lunch but can’t until Wednesday of next week. I have a giant project due, and if I impress the client, I think I may get a promotion! Does that work for you?
