Accidentally Yours

by Ames, Ilsa

  My feelings for her hadn’t changed, not at all, but it was like she’d become someone else again. Or like somehow, I’d hurt her. I didn’t know how to fix it, and I wasn’t about to give in to the IVF idea yet.

  I passed a customer a beer and wiped at a drop of water on the bar. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t really want to go home. It was just so… cold there.

  I felt as if I wasn’t wanted. Oh, she’d touch me, have sex with me, sometimes she’d still even talk to me. That open relationship we’d been building was gone though. In its place was a space that might as well have been as wide as the universe because neither one of us would cross it.

  “You look glum, baby, what’s wrong?” A dark-haired girl sat on the stool in front of me, her eyes dark and seductive. Pretty, but not June.

  “Nothing time won’t heal. What can I get ya?” I gave her my bartender smile but didn’t turn it up to full charmer mode. I—very obviously—wasn’t interested, even if her eyes roamed over me like I was a prime rib buffet and she was starved. Yeah, pass. Whatever coldness was at home, June still had my heart, wholly and completely.

  “Mm, I know what I’d ask for at any other time, but the way you keep flashing that wedding ring at me tells me not to bother. Thanks for being an honest guy. Whatever’s on draft please.” Blood red lips quirked in a smile and she sat back, relaxed now that she was no longer on the prowl.

  “Thanks. Enjoy.” I left her there to attend to another customer but glanced back. She was already in a conversation with her neighbor. I smiled and shook my head.

  Yeah, maybe a while back, I would have gone there. But then I’d met June and found something I’d never known. Fuck, now the idea of even looking at another woman anywhere close to the way I looked at my wife just sat funny with me. The thought of it soured in my head.

  June had changed my world. It wasn’t hard to be faithful when you had what you knew deep down was your damn soul-mate to go home to. And even with the wall up between us, she still made sex one of the most wonderful things on the planet, and more than that, she was the only woman I wanted to get that close to now. It was her purr I wanted to hear, it was her body I wanted to touch. Not anybody else.

  I spent the rest of the night in a funk, but my customers all went home happy. I wished that was all it took to make June happy and for us to go back to the way things were before conceiving a baby took over. We might not have said the words, but we both knew it was there between us.

  I drove home knowing that I wouldn’t be able to reach her, that she was probably already asleep, but a guy could hope, right? I wanted her smile back, her love back, and knew I’d have to compromise somehow. I just didn’t know how.

  We were both damaged people, it was hard to trust, and we’d given it freely when we started this relationship. Now, it was obvious that trust was easily taken away. June didn’t trust me to do what I needed to do for her, and she’d started to distance herself from me. I can’t say I felt that was exactly fair, or right, but it was her way to protect herself. I totally got that.

  At home, I found June had waited up for me. She brought me a plate of food, but only asked me a few questions about how the night went. I knew her mind wasn’t really on the conversation but answered her anyway. She looked hot, she always did, with a green silk nightgown on that clung to every inch of her beautiful body.

  She removed the plate when I finished even though I told her I could get it.

  “Come on,” she said quietly, leading me up to our bedroom. She disappeared to the bathroom but promised she wouldn’t be long.

  “You’ve been quiet, Tiago. Tell me what’s wrong.” June came back into the bedroom, dressed only in a towel now, and slid beneath the covers with me. Her body was warm, and I reached for her happily. At least when we were like this—naked and in bed together—we were alright again.

  “Just tired,” I murmured, pulling her close. “Not too tired for you, though,” I growled softly. “Fuck, I just can’t stop thinking about you. I need to be inside of you.” I breathed the words against her ear, her hair tickled at my lips and somehow made me even harder for her.

  She purred quietly, and her hand went beneath the cover and down my body until she found me hard and ready for her.

  “Fuck, Tiago,” she moaned, her breath catching.

  My lips found her neck as she spoke, and she whimpered softly. She turned towards me, her green eyes turned dark and went round, as she began to stroke me softly, then harder with each stroke.

  “You’re ready for me, aren’t you baby?” I could hear the lust in her voice and knew she was just as ready for me as I was for her. I didn’t even have to touch her to know that.

  She straddled me without another word, pushed the covers away, and let her body sink onto my hard cock with a slow tease that was as consuming as it was torturous. It felt so damn good, but it was so hard not to just thrust up into her to sheath my dick inside of her, where I wanted to be most.

  “Oh, Tiago.” She hissed my name as she finally took all of me in her depths. I couldn’t get any further inside of her. “That is so fucking good.”

  Her words made me shudder and she began to move, my hands on her hips to keep her secure. She stole my ability to think as she rode me, and all I could do was hang on for the ride.

  “You’re so fucking amazing, June. Fuck, so tight, so perfect.” I had to grit my teeth together to hold myself back. I’d thought about her so much tonight it was hard not to just come right then.

  I pulled her face down to me, my lips stroked over hers, and I pushed my hand between us to find her most sensitive spot. The one that would make her sing.

  I wanted to blow her mind, and I knew that she loved it when I talked. This was the only time that wall came down, when I could tear it down, even if she built it right back up a moment after we were done.

  “Do you remember that day on the beach, June? How fucking wet you got when I teased this pussy, knowing anyone might walk by and see you when you came so good and hard for me?”

  I felt her entire body tense for a moment before she gasped and started to pant.

  “I wanted to fuck you, June, right there. Let anyone walk by and see that you were mine. I wanted to pull you up onto your hands and knees and plunge my cock deep inside this gorgeous, perfect pussy over and over until you screamed so loud the whole damn beach knew you were coming for my cock.”

  I felt her pussy twitch deep inside and kept my finger on her clit. She moaned deep and long, but she hadn’t pulsed, not yet.

  I kept up the dirty flow of words and let the heat of just how hot it had made me come through. I talked to my wife as she fucked me, her body flexed hard and fast, sensually. She was like an erotic dancer sat on my cock as she fucked herself with me.

  “Fuck, angel. I wanted you riding my cock right there like you are now. Letting go and fucking my big cock up and down as you came for me over and over. I wanted to claim you right in front of everyone, to make sure anyone knew that you were all mine.”

  June was hooked on my voice, on the scenario, and her body was more hooked than her mind. She moaned until it turned into a garbled wail of pleasure. Her body shook as she pulsed around me at last, unable to hold back. She twisted above me, her body a live wire that slithered over me as her orgasm raced through her.

  I held onto her and waited for that moment of collapse, that moment when my cock going off would set her off again. She moaned and cried out, and I let myself go at last. The first throb of my cock made her gasp, and she ground into me, riding me up and down until we both collapsed and tangled together.

  There was a huge problem in our marriage, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to fix it. Surely that meant my wife still loved me? I hadn’t lost it all yet? I sighed and held her more tightly against my chest. I couldn’t lose her, not now that I knew what she tasted like. I’d never be able to get the taste of her out of my mouth, out of my mind if she left me. I had to find an answer.

  14


  June

  I waited for Tiago to come home from another late shift a few weeks later. He could have closed the bar down, now, even if he lost all the rest of the inheritance. What he’d been given so far was enough for very easy living for a couple of generations to come, at least. He loved the place, though, and he didn’t want to close it.

  I totally got that. I didn’t want to lose my organization, especially now that I had started to gain ground with the kids and in the community. I didn’t want to lose the money I’d made through my agreement with Tiago, it was already useful. That wasn’t why I stayed with him though. I stayed with him because I loved him.

  We spent far more time in arguments than in bed now, and that feeling of isolation had only grown worse, not better, but I loved him. I was so tense around him, and I knew what set his nerves on edge, but I persisted. It was like an obsession and I couldn’t stop myself.

  A few days ago, I’d tried to discuss the possibility of medication with him. There were pills that could help, with ovulation and stuff, that might increase my chance of pregnancy. He’d just gone cold and left the room.

  The next day, I’d bought a new washing machine. And it was like I’d done it knowing it’d start a fight. Which, of course, it did.

  I did feel defeated after that. I couldn’t make it better, and I only seemed to make it worse. When I’d seen Layla and her parents when they came back from Canada, I’d been resolved to stay with him. She deserved the best effort from us, and maybe one day she’d need even more surgery, or a new heart, and that wouldn’t be cheap in our country. I felt pressured to stay, for her.

  I wanted to go home, to my old apartment, to my old life, but I couldn’t. Beneath it all, the pressure, the worry, the stress, I loved Tiago. I loved how determined he was to provide for little Layla, a girl with color in her cheeks again, that was learning to play, and live a normal life, at last. I loved how he used to be with me, so bold, so pleased, so full of energy. Now, we’d turned each other into two old people that resented the fuck out of each other. How had we let this happen?

  Maybe it was me, perhaps I’d done it? Old habits were hard to break, and I’d always been a prickly little cow. Maybe I’d driven him to be this bitter man that came home with a look of defeat and anger on his face? Or maybe it was him. Maybe his damned stubbornness about the IVF was driving me insane.

  Was it time for me to leave then? Was that the option I was left with?

  I buried my hands in my hair and leaned forward on the couch. Oscar came into the living room and jumped up beside me. He looked at me, hissed, and glared.

  He thought it was my fault, obviously.

  He pawed at my leg for a moment, and I held my breath. Was he going to tear a chunk out of my leg? What was this crazy cat about to do?

  He put his weight on that leg, and then, miracle of all miracles, he put the other paw on me! I waited, breath shallow as he hitched the rest of his body up onto my lap, curled into a ball, and promptly closed his eyes. I could only sit there, stunned, because the cat had never wanted to be near me. Ever.

  And now, he was curled in my lap to have a nap. He opened his eyes, purred up at me as if he’d never bitten my nose as I bent down to put his food in his bowl or swiped at my ankles as I walked by him. I wanted to pet him, to stroke his little furry white head, but I was afraid to. I didn’t want to scare him off or make him change his mind, so I sat there, for a very long time, in the same position with a cat on my lap.

  I watched him and envied him. Whatever life he’d had before, his life now was a simple one. He didn’t have to try to make a baby to appease a condition in a will, he didn’t have a husband upset with him because he wanted to have a baby. He ate, he slept, he chased moths. Now, he also slept on humans, it would seem.

  I relaxed a little and he meowed, but he didn’t move. He stretched a single paw out, claws unfurled as if to warn me, and went back to sleep. A little while later I moved, but he didn’t hop away, he stayed in place. I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and pulled it over us.

  I felt the weight of Oscar on my stomach and it soothed me. He’d never wanted to do that, and even now with the blanket over his head, he snoozed away happily. Perhaps he knew I needed a friend desperately, because now it looked as if I didn’t even have Tiago to talk to anymore.

  That was what hurt the most out of all of this, not that I was alone again, but that I’d failed Tiago. Or at least felt like it. He came home angry most of the time now, and that wasn’t how this was supposed to be. He should be happy to come home, proud to walk through that door.

  Tiago and I hadn’t been together for years or anything. It’d been a short time, relatively speaking. But it felt like we’d been through so much together. Halloween where we dressed up as a couple and went down to the bar as a tavern maid and an old-time barkeeper was so fun, I’d smiled for days. Thanksgiving had been spent together, with Tim and his family over for dinner. Christmas was magical, he’d bought me everything he could and had filled the bottom of the tree, but it had been around the time we’d started to fight. The New Year he spent alone in the bar, I’d had the flu his staff had all caught around that time. Now, with Valentine’s day out of the way and our one-year anniversary approaching, I wasn’t sure what to do.

  Maybe I should’ve just given up and admitted defeat? Was that the answer? I stared down at the blue lump that was the blanket over the cat.

  One more try, one more date, to see how it went. Maybe that’s what we needed. Then, if the situation didn’t improve, I’d leave him so that he could find another wife and get her pregnant before his last year was up and he lost it all. I’d do it on our anniversary, I’d make a nice night of it for us, here at home. One last try before I threw in the towel. I couldn’t let him lose all of that money, now could I? I could be selfish and do my best to make him stay with me, but I’d never been that kind of person. He’d give me what I was owed, and we’d leave it at that. If things didn’t change that is.

  For his sake, and mine, I hoped it all went well.

  <><>

  I wasn’t exactly open about my decision and spent the day of our final night together on tenterhooks. I’d taken the day off from the organization to prepare. It was stupid to test him, I know it was, but I had to. What I had planned wasn’t really a test of him anyway, it was a test of both of us.

  I spent an hour in the tub, relaxing and soaking. And then, I did something I’d never done before.

  I dyed my hair.

  I don’t know what prompted it, but once I started, all I could feel was excitement to see how it turned out. I went with blonde—a new me. Another new me, really, since the me with Tiago was already new compared to the me from before. But blonde me was going to be another chapter as he and I put our pieces back together.

  When it was done, and I stared into the bathroom mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself.

  Va-va-voom, lady, I murmured to myself, grinning at my new reflection. I did my new blonde locks in a style that left it in curls down my back. I took my time with my makeup, and when I got done, it was even more a new staring back from the mirror. I thought back to the version of me Tiago had first known—shy, awkward, dressed in shapeless, lame clothes. And now, here I was—confident, and poised.

  I dressed in a black jersey-knit dress. It was warm enough in the house that I didn’t need a sweater with it. Beneath it I’d put on a black corset with lace cutouts, black stockings with a silk garter belt, and a matching pair of black silk panties. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a temptress, one that I’ve never seen before.

  I’ve seen myself frumpy, almost ugly sometimes, when I was depressed and just piled my hair on my head. I saw beauty on my wedding day, the flush of my cheeks and the hope in my eyes had complemented how lovely I was that day. My dress had also helped, because I’d felt beautiful, elegant even. Now, with the new blonde hair, wearing the low-cut top of the dress with a deep V between my breasts, and the way the
shape hugged my figure down to a spot just above my knees, I felt powerful, sexy, and beautiful all at the same time.

  I went downstairs, prepared his favorite dinner, a chicken with mustard sauce and pasta dish, and prepared the table with candles on it, over a red velvet tablecloth. I dimmed the lights down, lit candles, and put on a mix of his favorite music. That was all I could do for now.

  Oscar walked by the table, eyeing up the wineglasses as if he’d found new toys to knock over, meowed, and then waltzed out of the room. He’d become a rather sweet kitty lately, but there was always a chance he’d revert back to the evil snot that used to torment me for shits and giggles. We’d come to a truce, I suppose, and that was nice, at least.

  Tiago had said this morning that he’d be home by six, and I had dinner ready for him. I left it on the stove to stay warm. He wasn’t home by six-thirty, and he wasn’t home at eight either. I’d texted him but had no response from him. Maybe he was busy at work. I called there and the new guy, Chad answered. He hadn’t seen Tiago since he’d come on for his shift.

  I went into the living room, put the blanket over my lap, and stroked Oscar when he jumped into my lap. I wasn’t aware that I did it, I just did. He didn’t mind for once and let me. For once brief second, a dark part of me wondered about Tiago being with another woman, but I quickly shook that thought away. No, it wasn’t that. I knew that deep down.

  But he wasn’t at home, and that meant he didn’t want to be here with me. He might want my body still, but he no longer wanted to be around me. It was done. It was our anniversary and he wasn’t at home.

  I think I had my answer.

  Tears streaked down my face as I went into the bedroom and dug around in my closet. I found the keys to my old apartment, still in my name, and packed a bag. I sat down and wrote a note I’d actually written and rewritten thirty times in my head over the last month or so. And I hated writing every word.