Bad Husband

by Shey Stahl

  And she is. It’s in the weakening of her posture and the way she watches me walk past her.

  Despite being soaked, an accessory to murder and limping, because I think I twisted my ankle in the fall, I’m feeling pretty good about today. My plan might work after all.

  Told you my dedicated side would pay off.

  Were you actually doubting me?

  When I enter our bedroom after taking a quick shower, Madison is reading the same book she was reading last night. I want to take it and rip it from her hands when I notice the title. The Best of Me by Nicholas Sparks.

  I hate romance novels. They give women unrealistic expectations of romance and relationships that men can’t live up to. I bet that’s why she’s doing this. She thinks I need to be more romantic.

  You know what really pisses me off about them? I bet if I was reading Playboy or watching porn she’d be pissed, yet here she’s drooling over men and detailed sex scenes, and I can’t say anything?

  Drawing in a deep breath, I push the bedroom door closed behind me and lock it.

  Lying down on the bed, I take the book from her hands, toss it aside and straddle her legs. She’s in her nightgown again, the one where the spaghetti straps fall off her slender shoulders.

  “My legs are sore from my run. Can you get off them?”

  I do as she says only I push her thighs apart so she’s spread-eagle before me. And then I smile. “Better?”

  “No.” And then her eyes move down my chest… and lower. Did I mention I just took a shower and didn’t bother to put on clothes?

  It’s all part of my plan. Seduce my wife, make love to her and make her realize how much she still loves me.

  Her breathing picks up, and her eyes find mine again when I lean forward. Surprisingly her fingers raise and trace my lips. My mouth presses against hers, my tongue begging for entrance. When I attempt to lay on top of her, Madison has other ideas, and she pushes me on the tops of my shoulders until I’m on my back.

  I’m thinking, fuck yeah, I’m about to get some, but then she gets up and goes to leave the room.

  What the fuck?

  I’m not having it and grab her hand before she can get away. “I don’t think so. You’re not running away from me.” And then I have her back on the bed and underneath me.

  I don’t know why but I grind my semi-erect dick into her.

  “And deep down”—I push forward once more emphasizing the word deep by whispering it against the shell of her ear—“I don’t think you want away from me.”

  Her body relaxes, her hands moving from beside her to my shoulders. “Ridley, not tonight.”

  “I’m not saying we have to fuck. I just want to talk.” Complete lie on my part. I want more than anything to fuck her, but if she’s going to talk and give me some answers, then I’ll take that over having sex. We can fuck after we talk.

  I’m not sure if she’s wanting to avoid talking to me but something in her changes, or it’s the fact that I’m hard now, like rock-hard and sliding my dick against her wet center. She wants me. It’s obvious judging by the heat between her legs and the way her body’s trembling beneath mine.

  Her head relaxes against the pillow, her neck arching as my chest presses into her firm breasts. My mouth makes its way to her skin, sucking and biting as I move along her curves, my hips beginning a rocking motion against her.

  That’s exactly what she wants because she moans in my ear, the gentlest sigh leaving her parted lips and I know I’ve won this round. I also have to work quickly in case she changes her mind.

  Madison doesn’t say a word when I enter her. She’s certainly not pushing me away by any means. The feel of her around me is almost painfully intense, but better than anything. I could probably lie here for hours and not even move, just enjoy the heat and the tightness.

  Madison has other ideas and is suddenly frustrated by my hesitation. Arching her back against me, she forces us together deeply.

  Jesus Christ… it’s my turn to gasp at the flood of sensations.

  I have to keep it together no matter how badly my body wants to let go—moving, rocking us together as gently as I can.

  Clutching my upper arms and digging her nails into my flesh ineffectually, trying her best to ensure I don’t go anywhere, don’t pull away, our bodies slide together with desperate movements.

  I want her to look at me, but her eyes are closed as her lips part, and she moans my name and rocks her hips into mine, searching for her need to be relieved. Her expression is astonishingly erotic, utterly unguarded and confident in the way she moves. Hands down, Madison is beautiful when she fucks. If I was good at sharing, I’d tell her to be in the porn business because men would pay to see this woman come every day. I’d probably become a habitual masturbator and never leave the computer like I did when I was fifteen.

  The pressure inside me builds quickly, that ever-present tingling in my balls becoming more apparent, and I don’t want to stop, the sensation driving me forward.

  I won’t last long, but I take comfort in knowing I will be ready again within minutes if I need to be. That might be a lie. I am approaching thirty.

  I won’t finish without her, though. I can’t take this much pleasure from her body and not give back. Drawing back, albeit against Madison’s attempt for me to stay, I reach between us, circling the spot I knew so well. It takes about another minute before she’s shaking beneath me, her lashes lowered, breath gasping.

  What can I say? I’m pretty good at this.

  Watching Madison in the midst of an orgasm I gave her is a fascinating sight. It’s my own breaking point, and I can’t stop myself. Determined to find my own release, I drop my weight against her chest again, my hands darting to underneath her ass. Pushing myself into her deeper, my body jerks in time with my release.

  “Jesus Christ,” I say, blowing out a breath into her neck. Her hands fall from my back like she’s attempting to shut off her emotions the moment I slide out of her. I don’t like that one bit, but I ignore it for the time being.

  When I can think and move again, I collapse beside her, but she won’t look at me.

  Is she disappointed?

  Madison and I used to have sex a lot, even with the long hours I work. I’d come home at two in the morning, wake her up and she was ready to go and into it. None of this just lying there waiting for me to finish, she was fucking into it.

  Where did it go?

  We had Callan and Noah, and it became harder to squeeze time in. It wasn’t all because of the kids. I can’t blame them for the lack of sex because we got comfortable. Words and motions became familiar and before I knew it, weeks would go by before we had sex. Weeks! That’s something I never thought would happen.

  All right, let me put it to you this way. You know those couples who have sex all the time?

  Yeah, me either. I don’t know many who are married and actually have sex on a regular basis. Most men I know, like the guys at poker night, they complain about not having enough sex. Believe me, it’s never enough for us men unless it’s like once a day. Twice would be nice too but you know, I’ll try not to be greedy.

  Anyways, my point… I have one. You know in the beginning, it’s hard to get enough of each other. It’s the whole, “I can’t wait to be inside you” and her screaming my name at the top of her lungs.

  The reality is that part of the relationship doesn’t last and slowly the newness slows to a comfortable pace. You can’t have sex all the time. But here’s the thing… when the newness wore off for Madison and me, that’s when I fell in love with her. For the record, she said it first.

  Here, go ahead and take a look at that afternoon it was said for the first time. A little background, she’s pregnant here. About four months.

  Do you see us there in bed, you know, the younger version of us in bed, blankets on the floor, sheets tangled around my waist with my head between her legs?

  Her hands fist in my hair and she arches her back against the white she
ets. “I love you.”

  Did you hear it? I mean, it was moaned, but I made the words out clearly. You know when someone tells you they love you.

  Smiling, I wink at her. “It’s about time. Your eyes said it months ago.”

  “When did you see that?” She slaps the side of my head as I crawl up her body, trying to get her to kiss me, only she won’t have it and turns her head. Remember where my mouth was? I don’t understand why girls don’t like the taste of themselves. It’s only the best taste in the world, aside from beer in my opinion.

  “When you were screaming my name.” I waggle my eyebrows and settle between her legs letting the sheet fall away completely. You’re welcome for the view. I have a nice fucking ass, and I can admit that with confidence.

  Blinking slowly, her arms wrap around my neck bringing our chests together. “What about you?”

  Me? I’ve been in love with Madison since I first laid eyes on her, remember?

  But back to the moment. Look at her. She’s wanting to know if I love her too. But you know me by now and I say, “I love me too. I’m a loveable guy.”

  You see that glare but the smirk on her face? She loves my witty personality. “Just tell me you love me, you pussy.”

  I don’t, yet, and raise her thigh higher up on my hip to enter her. My mouth moves to her shoulder and then neck, kissing my way to her mouth. “You’re so dirty, baby,” I growl against her jaw before my lips find hers. I kiss her once, twice, three times and then say, “I love it… and I love you. Since the day I first saw you wearing that Catwoman costume, I knew I was in love.”

  “WE HAVE A conciliation conference tomorrow at one,” she tells me, righting her nightgown.

  Pulling on a pair of shorts, I sigh, standing at the end of the bed staring at her. “Madison, I can’t just take off in the middle of the day again. I have a job to do, you know.”

  I’m trying here, I really am, but how can she think I can just stop working and deal with all this shit when I own the business. If I don’t do these things, Brantley has to, and building custom homes isn’t a one-man job. She knows this. She understood it when I started the business, but now it’s all of a sudden changed?

  “And what the hell is a conciliation conference?”

  “The state requires you to go when you file for divorce. It’s to work out a parenting plan and custody I assume.”

  I do not like the words parenting plan and custody. In fact, I fucking hate them. I heard those words a lot growing up and swore I would never make my kids go through it. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I face the wall, afraid to look at her because I know what’s coming. Maybe her reasoning, but more so, the realization that this could end the way I don’t want it to. Could I really be a weekend dad?

  My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at the wall. “If you were serious about this, why didn’t you hire a lawyer?”

  Her voice is quiet, the bed dipping beside me as she moves to sit next to me. “I thought we could work everything out ourselves and it’d be less messy for the boys.”

  “Is that so? And how do you suppose we do that if you’re not willing to talk to me?”

  “I am talking to you. Right now, I’m talking to you, and I talked to you last night. You hear what you want, Ridley.”

  That’s untrue and unjustified as far as I’m concerned. I don’t believe that for one second. I’ve heard what she’s saying to me. Remember? She said she didn’t love me. How could I have forgotten that?

  Swallowing over the insanely huge lump in my throat, my brow pulls together, and I twist to face her. Raising my hand, I cup her cheek hoping maybe that might convince her. “How can you honestly say you suddenly don’t love me anymore. It doesn’t just happen. Just five minutes ago, what was that? Sure seemed like you loved me then?”

  I sound so fucking pathetic I want to punch myself in the throat so I can’t talk anymore.

  “That’s all you heard last night?” She stares at me, ignoring my comments, the sadness returning. Her lashes flutter, tears welling up. “Us growing apart…. It didn’t just happen, Ridley. It’s been going on for years, and you’re blind if you can’t see it. The busier you get at work, the more you ignore what’s happening here. I don’t even know you anymore. It’s like you’re a roommate. Sure, you provide for us, but we never see you. You leave the house before the boys are up and by the time you get home, they’re either in bed or supposed to be in bed. Up until the last two days, I bet you hadn’t seen them for more than five hours. It’s not just me, how do you think it makes them feel?”

  She’s right on that one, but still, I work. I can’t help that I’m trying to provide for them.

  My stare catches her wedding ring she finally has back on, and I wonder if she takes it off when she leaves the house. “Madison, I meant what I said when I gave you that ring. I did. And the way I see it, I have two options here. I can walk away, but I don’t think it’s what you want. Or I can stay and show you I can be different.”

  I can see it in her eyes, what I’m saying, the way I’m saying it, she’s thinking about dropping all of this because deep down, this isn’t something she would do. The Madison I know wouldn’t resort to something so drastic, but then again, do I know this woman at all?

  “You should move out,” she says, delivering the earth-shattering blow straight to my heart.

  I stand up immediately, my temper rising. Remember when I said I didn’t yell? I didn’t until now. “What the fuck? No, I’m not because this is my house. This is fucking bullshit, and you know it. I’m trying here, and you’re giving me nothing and acting like it’s already over between us before I have a say in any of it.”

  “That’s because it is over. You just refuse to see it,” she retorts with cold sarcasm.

  “Maybe I didn’t see it, before… but I see it now. I see you. And I’m not giving up without a fight.”

  She says nothing.

  “I think I should get a chance to at least prove to you I can fix this.”

  She tosses a pillow at my face. “Sleep on the couch.”

  “MAYBE SHE’S SLEEPING with someone else?” Brantley suggests, and I want to punch him for saying that because the pain it sends to my heart makes that heart attack feeling return.

  I’d kill the motherfucker she’s sleeping with, if that were the case.

  “She’s still fucking me,” I mumble, taking a drink of the beer in my hand. I left the house when Madison told me to sleep on the couch. I would eventually end up there, but I couldn’t stay there and not demand she tell me the exact moment she began thinking of a divorce. So I went to the bar.

  Leaning back, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket to send her a text message. If she wasn’t going to talk tonight, I’d text her and demand answers.

  Me: Are you in love with someone else?

  Brantley raises an eyebrow, lifting his beer to his lips. “Like since she asked for a divorce?”

  “Yep.” I set the beer back down on the table. “Right before I called you.”

  He laughs, as though it’s entertaining to him. “Dude, she’s using you.”

  I never thought of it that way. Was she? She wants a divorce but not from my dick?

  I text her again.

  Me: Are you using me for my dick?

  Still no answer.

  Most men would be all over that. Not me. I love my wife and my boys.

  Me: I love you.

  That’s romantic, right?

  She still doesn’t reply. Maybe she’s sleeping already? It is like what, midnight?

  Yeah, midnight. Fuck. I should be at home. Sleeping.

  Me: Are you sleeping?

  “Get her pregnant,” Brantley suggests, his eyes glued to the sports highlights on the television above our heads. “I had a girlfriend who once poked a hole in the condom. I caught her and she became an ex-girlfriend but maybe try that?”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s dumb.”

  But then I think, what if that’s what she
wants?

  Me: Do you want another baby? I can totally knock you up.

  “It’s an idea. Not a good one, but an idea,” Brantley mumbles, glancing over his shoulder to watch a blonde walk by.

  “This is serious, B. I like being married.”

  It’s his turn to roll his eyes. “And that I will never understand but, dude, come on.” He nudges my elbow with his. “You’re looking at her asking for a divorce as a bad thing.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “It’s not?”

  “No. It’s a good thing. It’ll be like college again. Different chick every night.”

  “I didn’t like college for that reason.”

  Me: I don’t want to be with anyone else. I love your pussy.

  Was that too much?

  I’m a man of repetition. I eat the same thing for breakfast every morning. Eggs, scrambled, and a slice of wheat toast. I have the same cup of coffee on the way to work. Americano. No cream. When I run, I run the same five-mile loop every time.

  And you know, I like fucking the same woman. Mostly because I’m comfortable. I don’t have to worry about whether I’m going to find her fucking the neighbor and I know exactly what to do to make her come.

  In turn, she knows what I like. There’s something to be said about that, and after a very traumatizing experience freshman year of college, I’m not open to experimenting anymore.

  “What’s your plan then?” Brantley finally asks, probably wondering why it’s a Wednesday night and I’m still at the bar at midnight.

  Just as I’m about to text Madison again, finally she responds to my messages.

  Madison: Stop. Texting. Me. I’m trying to sleep.

  I raise my beer. “Thinking of becoming an alcoholic. Maybe start an arrest record.” Then I shrug. “After that, I’m not sure I have a plan.”

  “I thought you were going to ask her out on a date. What happened to that plan?”

  “My plan?” Sighing, I shake my head. It’s like the universe is against me. “I had it all figured out. I was going to flirt with her like I did in college and then ask her on a date. But then Noah killed a cat and then decided to flood the bathroom. When we were finally had a chance to talk, it turned into us fucking and then her yelling at me. All I gathered from everything that happened is that Madison thinks I’m a bad husband.”