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The air evacuated every cell in my body when she walked into the living room. She looked like a fucking goddess, and I was dumbstruck by her beauty.
My feet took charge of my whole body and walked to meet her halfway through the room. I bent low to wrap my weary arms around her waist and breathed in her sexy, sinful scent.
“My God, woman. You’re simply stunning this evening. And you smell good enough to eat.” I leaned back and gave her a head-to-toe eye fuck and said, “As a matter of fact…”
She laughed and put a straight arm’s distance between our bodies. “Easy, killer. You’ll mess up my hair and makeup, and we have a date, remember?”
I used the hand she had thrust toward me and yanked her body against mine. Directly into her ear, I growled, “If I want to eat my wife’s pussy for dinner, that’s what I’ll do.”
She giggled again, and the joy spread to my face too. “Sooooo…” She dragged out the word while doing a little twirl, and the short skirt flared out at the hem. “You like this outfit?”
“I do. You’re an absolute vision.” I dropped all my features to a very serious and disappointed presentation and said woefully, “I don’t think I can take you out in public like this, though.”
“What? Why?” Of course Agatha was instantly outraged at my disappointing declaration. She rushed to the long mirror in the hallway and looked at her outfit while I stood right behind her. She turned to the left, then to the right before demanding to my reflection, “What’s wrong with my outfit? You just said I was a vision!”
The girl was so easy to rile up it was unfair. Zero effort put into my tease, and she was near hysterics. I could probably talk her into something completely outrageous if I put effort behind the ruse.
I wrapped my arms around her from behind and explained, “If you’re seen in public looking this incredible, it would be so unfair to every other woman in the place. Every pair of eyes will be on you, darling. A lot of couples are going to be fighting on the way home tonight.” I bit her playfully, and she smacked at the top of my head since my face was buried in her perfect neck.
“Don’t leave a mark!” she insisted between giggles.
And I had to admit that now that she had brought it up, the idea had merit.
“You love the marks I leave on your body. We both know you do,” I teased, but really I meant it. I’d watched her just that morning checking out a few in the mirror when she didn’t know I was looking.
But I had to derail that thought track, or we really wouldn’t make it to dinner. Even in this suburb of LA, reservations were a must on Friday night. Your table was promptly filled by the next waiting party if you were more than ten minutes late.
Stepping back from my sexy little bomb, I said, “Let me grab a different jacket, and we can go.”
I strolled into our bedroom with the biggest smile, and then I saw it. The path of destruction she’d left while getting ready. My—no, our—entire bedroom was in shambles.
Clothing was tossed everywhere…from the floor to the bed and beyond. There was even a bra hanging off the doorknob. In the bathroom, hair and makeup products and contraptions littered the countertop and even the ledge of the bathtub. Every inch of usable surface had shit spread atop it.
Well, I could call her back into the room and demand she clean up after herself.
I refused to live like an animal, and I already knew this was her norm from seeing the state of her room at her parents’ house. But if I did that, not only would we argue and ruin both our good moods, but we would miss our dinner reservation. She was so excited to be going out, it was palpable in the air. The selfish part of me was enjoying basking in that glow of happiness. I didn’t want to ruin all of that.
From the Choose Your Battles chapter of my imagined How to Have a Happy Marriage primer, I sucked in a deep, calming breath through my nose and let my frustration go with the exhale. It took two more cycles of the exercise to stop the heart palpitations, but by the time I was back in the crowded entry of the apartment, I was once again on level mental ground.
At least that’s what I told myself as I locked the front door and offered Agatha my arm to grip as we descended to the parking lot.
She leaned into me while we walked and said, “You look very handsome, husband. I like that leather jacket with the button-down. Casual and still put together.” She gave me a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, looks good.”
I did all the things I normally did for a date I wanted to impress. Opened the car door for her and made sure she was situated before closing it and hustling around to the driver’s side. I even let her choose what we listened to on the radio. I held the door for her to walk ahead of me as we entered the restaurant and stood possessively with a hand at the small of her back while we waited to be shown to our table.
Men never hid their ogling as well as they thought they did, and I strutted like a proud peacock through the crowded dining room.
That’s right, fuckers. She’s all mine. Signed, sealed, delivered. Mine.
One of the greatest things about Agatha was her humility. There was no doubt the woman was a smoke show. But she was kind to the staff and polite to another patron who blocked our path at one point. She wasn’t conceited or smug, and it added to her attractiveness.
By the time we were looking over the menu, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Any ire over the wreckage she left in our bedroom faded into the ether. It also helped that I fantasized about punishing her for the disaster the entire drive to the restaurant. There were at least three ways I could ensure she sat uncomfortably tomorrow, and if my great mood kept up, I might even let her choose the one I administered.
Because she would definitely learn a lesson by the end of the night.
I selected a bottle of wine from the extensive list and sampled it like a pro when it was brought to the table. Agatha seemed a little too eager to down the first glass, though, so I took my time offering her a refill. But the attentive server was on the task to sabotage my effort before I could decline for us both until the meal arrived. She tossed that glass back like a frat boy too.
“You know, this is very good wine. Maybe if you slowed down a bit, you’d enjoy it. Or taste it even,” I commented and instantly knew I should’ve held my tongue.
