The Man I Can't Have

by Williams, Shanora

  I moan again as he hits a tender spot, then look down into his eyes. His pupils have dilated, his lips spread, forming a wide O. “Your pussy,” he groans, shifting me up and back down again on his thick, throbbing cock. “So good. Fuck, you’re so good.” And as if he can’t hold it anymore, a loud moan rushes out of his mouth, and he drops me back down on the table. It’s a rough drop, but he holds me close, as if he’s making up for it.

  My ass is hanging off the edge of the table, and he’s still buried inside me, his cock throbbing, and another moan leaving him this time as he fills my pussy with his warm cum.

  He moaned. Moaned. It was a beautiful sound, one I never thought I’d hear him make.

  “Shit.” He’s panting, thrusting upward, still filling me up. I breathe raggedly as he looks me in the eyes, then he focuses on my mouth again. “Fuck, Gabby.”

  “What?” I whisper.

  “Best fuck I’ve ever had.”

  I blush, but no doubt, the guilt is setting in already. What the hell have I done?

  Sensing my sudden change of mood, Marcel pushes up on his elbow and pulls out of me. I get off the table and it shakes a bit. I look down and one of the legs is split at the base.

  “Fuck my life,” I mutter, pressing a hand to my forehead.

  “I can fix that for you if you want me to,” he says, picking up his boxers.

  “No, it’s fine.” My response comes off curt. He notices my tension but doesn’t speak on it. I try to fix myself up, adjusting my dress, but it doesn’t help that I feel his cum leaking down the insides of my thighs, or that the neck of my dress is torn. “I, um…need to go to the bathroom. Be right back.” I leave the kitchen before he can respond, rushing around the corner and going up the stairs.

  My heart is about to burst right out of my chest. I hear Callie whimpering from the guest room, where her dog bed is. I left her with a few toys and closed the door so she wouldn’t interrupt the night I was about to have with Marcel. How indecent of me. Maybe I should have kept her out so she could interrupt us, make me realize what I was feeling for him was wrong. She looks happy to see me when I let her out.

  I go to the bathroom and turn on the water, cleaning myself up. I refuse to look into the mirror. I’m afraid of the woman that’ll look back at me.

  Why did I let him come inside me? I’m not his. He doesn’t have that right. Why would I let him do that? And in my own house? The house I share with Kyle? The man I should love with my whole heart and never want to cheat on? I’m so fucked up!

  After rinsing my face with cold water, I leave the bathroom to go to my closet. I change clothes—sweatpants and baggy shirt—and then walk back downstairs with Callie on my heels.

  Marcel sees me coming down. He’s fully dressed, standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter edge. Callie rushes over to him again, going straight for his foot and sitting on his boot.

  “She did that the first night I found her,” he chuckles, and I’m glad he’s broken the ice. He looks up to meet my eyes. His hair is so messy, and there’s still a small sheen of sweat on his forehead.

  “Marcel, I—”

  “No, Gabby.” He holds a hand up, moving forward. Callie hops off his foot and scurries to the corner where more of her toys are. “Don’t even say anything. It happened. It’s done. It’s clear you’re full of regret right now, so I’ll leave you alone for the night.”

  I’m both relieved and sad. I don’t want him to leave…but I know it’s best. Kyle comes back home tomorrow afternoon. I have to wash the smell of Marcel off of me stat.

  He goes to the counter, picking up the container of tacos and lifting it in the air. “You won’t mind if I take these with me?”

  “No—not at all.” I fold my arms as he walks back my way. He walks past me to get to the door and when he unlocks it and twists it open, he peers over his shoulder.

  “For the record, I wasn’t lyin’. Best fuck I’ve ever had.”

  I shouldn’t blush, but I do.

  “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or something else.” I’m trying to be playful, still flirty, but it’s not working. Guilt has gobsmacked me.

  “It’s a compliment. Trust me.” He turns around, fully facing me. Taking a step forward, he brings up a hand, cupping the back of my head. “You are everything.”

  Heat bubbles in my chest. I lower my line of sight.

  “Hey. Look at me.” His command is soft. Gentle. I look up, and his eyes are serious, focused on mine. “Nothin’ changes here with you and me. I’m not judgin’ you one bit, because I wanted it just as much—probably even more.”

  “Are you sure you’re not judging me?”

  “Gabby.” It’s all he can say. He sighs, then reels me toward him, planting a kiss on my forehead. The bubbling heat is stronger now, sweeping through my entire body. “Sleep well.”

  I nod. He pulls away, but not having his hands on me feels like a loss. I want his touch—I’m craving it all over again—but for now I let him go.

  He walks down the stoop, looking back at me once before going to his truck and climbing inside. I watch him crank it up, and headlights flash across my face, spotlighting my betrayal. He puts the truck in reverse and backs out of the driveway, and when he’s gone, I shut and lock the door, then flop face first on the sofa.

  I don’t even want to sleep in the bed I share with Kyle. That will really cause the guilt to eat me alive. To distract myself, I reach for the remote control on the coffee table and turn on the TV, flipping to HGTV, but not even the redesigning of homes is distraction enough.

  Marcel’s words replay in my head over and over again.

  From now on you won’t be his. You’ll be mine.

  I can’t get the words out of my head, but only because no words spoken have been truer.

  I became his tonight, on a dining room table that doesn’t even belong to him.

  He has a hold on me—a tight lasso wrapped around me that I can’t break free from—and he knows it.

  We both know it.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Marcel

  Gabby is having regrets about what we did. It was clear to me the moment I finished. After what we did, I noticed the way she looked at me.

  Helpless.

  Guilty.

  Confused.

  But while I fucked her, she loved it. Every single second of it. I relish in that fact, knowing I made her come with my tongue and cock.

  I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve been waiting for that to happen. It’s fucked up on so many levels, but I’ve wanted her for so long now—since the moment our eyes connected. For weeks I’d been trying to deny whatever connection I had to her, but I couldn’t anymore.

  After she told me she’d recently had sex with that shithead husband of hers, I didn’t know how to take it. How could I be mad about her sleeping with her husband? That was a given in any marriage, yet the jealousy pumped through my veins like gasoline, and her confirmation was a lit match. She burned me up, pissed me off, but with the way she milked the hell out of my dick, her body begging for more with every thrust I provided, I knew her husband was nothing in comparison to me. Nothing.

  It isn’t like me to smile this much after a fuck, but I do, all the way home. It’s faint, but it’s there.

  When I get home, I shower and then crack open a beer, sitting at my table to read over the final layout for my client. I’m too distracted to study it, though. I’m here, but my mind is still there, back in Gabby’s kitchen.

  I took her on a table that I’m sure she’s shared with her husband more times than she can count, and I don’t give a damn about it.

  But she does.

  It’s a whisper that crosses my mind—a small voice in my head that’s telling me this is all wrong. What will she do now? Is that it for us? Will she bother contacting me again now that her patio is finished, and I’ve dropped her contract off? I admit I was holding onto it for a while, just to have an excuse to see her again. Now t
hat I’ve finally given her and myself what we both have wanted for weeks, what happens now?

  She has no reason to get in touch with me unless something goes wrong in the yard. And even so, she could always request that someone else take a look at it, just to avoid seeing me.

  You fucked a married woman. A young, sexy-as-hell, confused, married woman.

  I rest my back on the back of the chair and drag my palm over my face.

  Once wasn’t enough. I need more. I don’t give a fuck that she’s taken, but I’m sure the sin she’s just committed is eating her alive.

  I’m left wondering when she’ll get in touch with me—when she’ll beg me to come around to take her again.

  She deserves better, and I can give her that, at least in bed…then again, I know she wants to be a good person. She has morals, and I have a feeling that I won’t be hearing from her for quite some time.

  THIRTY

  Gabby

  Barking is the first thing I hear in the morning. I roll over on the sofa, peeling my eyes open. Callie is on the sofa, too, barking at me. She climbs onto my side and looks toward the kitchen, and I frown as she barks again.

  “What are you barking at?” I groan.

  “That would be me.” Kyle’s voice catches me completely off guard, and I spring up without hesitation, looking over the sofa and at him. He’s standing by the fridge with one of the bottles of freshly pressed juice I bought from the store yesterday.

  “Hey!” I breathe, pushing off the couch and walking to the kitchen. I can hardly hear my own thoughts over the sound of my banging heart. “What are you doing home so early?” I check the time on the microwave. It’s nearing eight in the morning.

  Kyle sips the juice and then places it down on the counter. “We pushed the meeting to last night. Caught an earlier flight back home to see my lovely wife.” He walks up to me, reeling me in with an arm around my waist. He kisses my cheek, and I want to vomit. Not because of him, but because I fell asleep without showering. I wasn’t expecting him to be back until later, which would have given me plenty of time to freshen up.

  “What’s going on?” he asks. “Why’d you fall asleep on the couch? And what’s with the tacos and Jell-O shots? Did you have a party while I was away?” He’s smiling, looking sideways at the empty platter on the counter. There are three tacos left.

  “Oh—I was just up. Watching a movie. Decided to have my own little fiesta.”

  “Oh. Can it be a fiesta if you’re all alone?” he jokes.

  I shrug.

  “Well, anyway, how about you go upstairs and change clothes. I want to take you out for some breakfast.”

  “Okay. Sure.” I force a smile at him as he rubs the small of my back. “Let me just take a quick shower.”

  “Okay—oh, and what the hell happened to the table?” When he asks that, my heart drops to my stomach. I’m close to the staircase, but I try not to freeze before looking his way. Kyle is by the dining table, fiddling with the splintered leg. The one Marcel broke while fucking me. Oh, God.

  “I’m not sure, actually,” I lie. “It was pretty wobbly for a while, and I think the move made it worse.” I’m making shit up now. I’m a genius at that…and luckily, he falls for it.

  “That is true. This table is old. It was my mum’s.” He stands tall, sliding his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “It was handcrafted in Malaysia, and my mum brought it with her when she moved. She passed it down to me as my first piece of furniture.” He takes another look at it, and the guilt nearly shreds me. I fucked Marcel on a table that my husband’s mother gave to him as a gift? Wow. What kind of wife am I? “I’ll see if I can get it fixed.”

  “Okay.” It’s all I can say, really. “Do you think you can let Callie out for a second? She probably has to pee.”

  He looks sideways at Callie, then rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine.”

  When he goes to the doors that lead out to our patio and commands her to come with him, I rush up the stairs and don’t look back.

  I’m in the shower first thing, washing thoroughly. Once I feel like my betrayal has flushed its way down the drain, I’m out and getting dressed. As I put on my makeup, though, I’m left with no choice but to face the girl in the mirror.

  Since this move, she’s changed. I don’t know who she is anymore and that terrifies me. I no longer trust myself. I have no idea what I was thinking last night. What I did with Marcel didn’t make me feel any better, and now I have to live with that guilt. I pick up my powdered highlighter and apply it, then slam the case closed, stuffing it back in my makeup bag. I leave the bathroom, forgetting about my reflection.

  Downstairs, Kyle is sitting at a chair at the table, scrolling through his phone with one leg resting on top of the other. Why does he have to sit there? It’s like he’s purposely migrating to the place I can’t bear to look at right now.

  “You ready?” I ask, adding some pep to my voice.

  “Yeah.” He stands, going for his keys on the counter. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “So, our flights are all booked for the trip to see your parents this weekend,” Kyle informs me. I’m running the prongs of my fork over my scrambled egg whites. I hear him, but I’m not exactly listening. “Gabs? Did you hear me?”

  I look up and he’s smiling, but there’s concern etching at his brows. “Oh—uh, yeah. That’s good. I can’t wait to see them.”

  Placing his fork down, he reaches across the table to grab my hand. “Everything okay with you?”

  “Yeah, babe. I’m fine. I swear.” I squeeze his hand back and smile, but the smile hurts.

  “You seem a little off.” He pulls away and picks up his coffee mug. “Anything I can do to cheer you up?” His smile is devious, and I know exactly what it means. The thought of sleeping with my own husband right now nauseates me, but I keep smiling, powering through it.

  “I’m fine. Promise.”

  When we’re back home, Kyle tries to come onto me in the kitchen. He’s laying kisses on the back of my neck, whispering how much he’s missed me. His arms are wrapped around my middle and he sighs in my hair after his final kiss. I close my eyes, swallowing hard as he brings his hands up to my breasts and cups them in hand.

  “These,” he growls on my ear. “These always make me happy.”

  Oh God. Normally his voice—that growl—sets my blood on fire, but not today. Today I just can’t.

  “Kyle—I’m sorry. I just—I can’t today.” I pull out of his embrace, turning to face him. His eyes widen, so I back myself up with an explanation. “I don’t feel too good. I think it was the tacos I had last night—too much grease and cheese.”

  “Do you need to lie down?” He’s concerned. Good. He’s falling for it. His hands are on my arms, still holding me close.

  “I’m okay. I think lying down for a minute will help.”

  “Yeah, sure, babe. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” I stand on my toes, kissing his cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he says, but there’s too much uncertainty in his voice. His phone rings, and for once, I’m glad that it poses a distraction. I hear him answer it as I walk up the stairs and into our bedroom.

  I lay in bed, tossing and turning for a while, but I can’t sleep. It’s impossible when my mind is so crowded with thoughts I’ve never had before.

  My husband is downstairs, expecting all of my love, and I can’t even give it to him right now. I want to cry, but tears will only make him interrogate me even more.

  The worst part of all of this, though, is that even with all of this guilt in my heart, there is still room to think about Marcel. I wonder what he’s doing, how he’s feeling. I don’t know when I started to care about him so much, but things have changed…and I’m not sure if I like it or not.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Gabby

  It’s a relief, going back to Virginia.

  As soon as our flight lands and Kyle has us in the rental car, I breathe a
sigh of relief, taking in the tall trees that seem to never end. I roll my window down, inhaling the fresh scent of rain and pine trees.

  “I missed this,” I breathe as we travel over a short bridge. From here, I spot a body of water that leads to Lake Anna. It’s muggy today, but the lake is always so beautiful to me. It soothed me during my adolescent years and does so, even now.

  “I know you did,” Kyle murmurs. I sit back in my seat, and he reaches for my hand, squeezing it. I smile up at him briefly before looking away.

  I love my husband. He’s always there for me, even if he’s sometimes a jerk about certain things. After I told him I wasn’t feeling well in the kitchen that day, he hasn’t touched me too much. I’ve been faking a stomach bug and started to magically feel better last night, but only because he insisted he would cancel the flights if I wasn’t feeling well.

  I watch him as he drives with concentrated brows, his lips pressing together. My heart hurts when I look at him, the betrayal weighing heavily on my chest.

  I look back out of the window again, glad when Kyle flips the turning signal and makes a right into my parent’s neighborhood. My childhood dwells here. He passes Mr. and Mrs. Weston’s house. They used to give me and Ricky lemonade ice cups over the summer. Next is the playground Ricky and I played on, though it is really run down these days. They had mentioned tearing it down to rebuild, but it still hasn’t happened yet.

  Kyle parks in front of my parents’ house, where there are two cars parked in the driveway, Mom’s and Dad’s. As soon as I get out, I hear a door slam shut, and then there’s a loud squeal.