by Vivian Ward
Chapter 18
Madison
I didn’t want things to end tonight.
It was unbelievable. He gave me everything I could hope for and then some.
I thought I was making a mistake by inviting him into my home—and maybe it was—but my biggest problem now isn’t that I invited him to my house.
My biggest problem is that I want him back. I never wanted him to leave.
The instant that he walked through that door and I heard his heavy boots on the floor, I knew tonight was going to be different. I knew he was going to give me exactly what I needed.
It was such a mind fuck.
Him being here, doing what he wanted, using me how he saw fit.
Guilt and shame washed over me. Lust and excitement ran through me. There is no denying that I loved every second of our time together.
As soon as the riding crop came crashing down on my soft skin, I knew I was in heaven. When his teeth pierced my nipple, I thought I was going to come undone, and when he poured the hot wax over my skin, I nearly melted.
He gave me the perfect ending to the perfect night when he leaned over and kissed my hand. It was so delicate, innocent, tantalizing, and sensual. I closed my hand, holding on to that kiss, never wanting to let it go.
I want more of him. A lot more of him.
But now I have a problem.
The fact that I’m married changes everything and I don’t know what to do. Don’t get me wrong, I love Drew. I love him so dearly; I married him after all. But Robbie gives me the excitement and discipline that I crave. He pays a lot more attention to me than my own husband does. It’s like he holds me on a pedestal.
After I heard the kitchen door close and listened to him drive away, my heart sank. I wanted him to come back right away.
I must see him again.
But I don’t want it to be like it was tonight. No, I want much more. Like I said, all of him. I want to finally see him and what he looks like. I want to know him better.
Getting into the shower, a white cloud of steam envelopes me as I let the hot water hit my skin. I was hoping a hot shower would wash away some of the guilt, but all it’s done is make the red lines across my breasts sting, forcing me to relive the entire night.
Turning around to give the skin on my chest a break, a new stinging sensation begins to spread across my ass cheeks where he’d spanked me.
God, I loved that spanking!
It was so rough, so carnal. It made me feel good like I earned it for being bad; for being a cheating whore.
I can’t escape the thoughts of tonight no matter which way I turn in the shower so I do the only thing I can: I bathe and wash away his cum, letting it rinse down the drain—just like my marriage.
After I slip into my favorite soft, cotton nightgown, I reach for my phone and text him. No, not my husband. I text my lover.
M: Tonight was amazing. Thank you for that.
He texts right back. I must have perfect timing; he probably just got home and walked through the door.
R: You looked beautiful. I really enjoyed our time together.
M: I know this is wrong on so many levels but I have a question for you.
R: Ask away.
M: Can I see you again? I don’t mean like tonight. I really want to see you. I want to know what you look like….and do a repeat of tonight but without the blindfold.
R: Are you sure that’s a good idea?
M: What do you mean?
R: What if you don’t like what you see? What if you don’t like “me”?
M: Are you crazy? Robbie, I can’t stop thinking about you. I have to see you again. You made me feel what I haven’t felt in a long time.
R: Let me think about it. I’ll sleep on it and get back to you.
M: Why? Don’t you want me to know what you look like?
Oh my God. It hits me! I realize that he probably doesn’t want this to go any further than it already has. I’m a married woman. How foolish of me to think that he’d be willing to risk anything more than just a random sexual encounter with me for a night while my husband is out of town.
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, smashing all of the butterflies that were stirring just moments ago. I realize that this is probably the end.
The end for us.
The end of my marriage, too.
There’s no way I can go back to living a lie; happily living a vanilla lifestyle. I need flavor. I need spice.
What will I say to Drew? How will I end things with him? Who gets the house? Where will I live?
There are so many questions and not enough answers.
R: No, I do. I really want you to know what I look like. I’m just afraid of what you’ll say when you see me.
M: Are you crazy? It doesn’t matter. I mean, I saw a partial picture of you; albeit, with your head cut off in the selfie that you sent me. You have an incredible body, and our time together tonight was so intense. I want more.
R: You do, huh? lol I’m glad you really liked it. It was quite the experience for me too. You know? I’ve never done anything like it.
M: You could’ve fooled me. You seemed like a pro.
R: That’s because I paid attention to everything you said, every detail you gave me. I wanted you to be happy. You deserve it.
I want to be happy, too. That’s why things between us can’t end. I want to know him better, I want to be with him again, and I want to see him. All of him.
I don’t know what that means for Drew and me, and I don’t want to think about it. Not right now. Not yet. For now, I’ll just curl up with Dublin until I fall asleep. Hopefully, I’ll figure things out soon.
My phone vibrating on the nightstand next to my bed wakes me up. Smiling, I think of last night and grab my phone. I can’t wait to see what Robbie has to say.
Drew: Hey babe, hope you’re awake. I know it’s early, but I wanted to let you know that I’m coming home today. I’ll see you tonight.
I feel deflated and guilty. The last person I thought I’d hear from is my husband. Shouldn’t any married woman automatically assume her husband is texting her and not a strange man that fucked her the night before? I was hoping that it was Robbie, telling me a time and place where we could meet again.
After last night, I’ll drive where ever I have to in order to meet him. I don’t care. Initially, I’d had reservations about driving far away from home before we’d ‘met’ but not now. I know that I’m safe with him—and that he doesn’t hack up girls in his basement before freezing their bodies.
Frowning, I shoot a text back to him so that I don’t seem like a complete asshole.
M: Great, I’ll see you tonight.
It’s such a lie.
Everything is a lie.
I’m not happy that he’s coming home. I’d rather spend another evening with Robbie, but I guess it doesn’t matter. Even if he does come home, it’s not like I’ll have to talk to him or see him. I won’t have to face him and hope that the fact that I’m a cheating whore isn’t written all over my face.
No matter what happens, it won’t change the fact that I do still love my husband.
As the day wears on, the guilt from last night really begins to set in. If my timing is right, Drew should be home in the next few hours, so I head to the store to buy the ingredients to make his favorite dinner. It might be the last time that I ever make it for him because I don’t know how much longer the two of us will last.
It’ll either be because I can’t get Robbie out of my mind or because he’s going to find out what I did. Either way, our relationship is fucked.
Tossing the shrimp into the cart, I decide that I’ll also pick up some linguine pasta noodles and cream sauce to make shrimp scampi linguine; he loves that. And just because I feel bad about everything, I’ll make homemade garlic bread, too; it’s one of my favorites.
Before I check out, I head over to the liquor aisle and pick up a bottle of white wine to go with our dinner. Maybe if I drin
k away my problems, they won’t be so loud in my mind, and maybe I won’t feel so terrible about things.
As soon as I get home, I start to boil the salted water and heat up the skillet with garlic and butter in it while I stick the bottle of wine in the fridge. It won’t be too much longer before Drew walks through the door and I’m sure he’ll be hungry. We’ll just have another quiet, awkward dinner.
Until my phone goes off with a new message.
My throat closes shut, feeling like I’m suffocating, I take a seat as I try to figure out all of the questions racing through my mind. They’re flashing at a lightning quick speed, similar to how they do just before one dies.
Chapter 19
Drew
This can’t keep going on. I have to confront her. If I don’t, it’ll eat at me all night, and I won’t be able to sleep.
I might not be able to sleep as it is anyway.
Initially, I thought that I might be able to keep up this charade and break it to her easy, or I hoped that she’d forget all about it and just let Robbie fade away like an ordinary evening sunset; but she’s not going to let it go. Her messages made that clear.
Damn it!
I want my wife to love me. I want her to want me. I want her to want to be with me.
I want her to choose me.
Looking back at things, I realize that this was all a mistake and that I may have approached things the wrong way but what’s been done is done. All I can do from here on out is try to make things right with her. She needs to know that I love her unconditionally and that I can do the things that she wants done, and I can be the man she wants me to be.
The last thing I want to do is lose her. She means too much to me.
So I’ve made the decision that I’m going to swallow my pride and do the only thing that can be done. The right thing. I’m going to tell her everything. She deserves to know.
She deserves to know that I am Robbie. She deserves to know that I lied. She deserves to know that I know she’d cheat on me. She deserves to know how it made me feel.
But most of all, she deserves to know that she’s my girl and that she’s mine.
At the end of the day, I still love her, and I can’t lose her. I won’t let her go. If things end between us, she’ll have to be the one who does it because I can’t.
I can be any type of man she wants or needs me to be, but I can’t be the one to end our marriage. I’m not strong enough. But like I’ve said all along, I can do without as long as it makes her happy, and if that’s what she wants, then I guess we weren’t meant to be.
Sitting at a stop light before I head home, I send her a text message as me—her husband.
Drew: When I get home, we need to talk. I’m almost there.
She doesn’t text back.
I’m sure she’s in full panic mode, trying to figure out if I know for sure and the how, the why, the who; all of those good questions. You know, the usual ones that you ask when you’ve been busted.
And honestly, with the way she left the garage door open for me and had me park in there, there’s really no way that any of our neighbors would have seen or known that anyone was at our house. She could have completely gotten away with it, which kind of makes me wonder. I’d like to believe that she’s never cheated before but it’s like she had it all planned out; like she’s done it before.
Or, maybe she’s just an excellent liar.
Pulling up to the house, I see that everything is just as it usually is—you know, when she’s not waiting for strange men to come to our home to fuck her.
As I’m approaching the kitchen door, the scent of garlic and shrimp float through the air. Considering she hasn’t made shrimp scampi for a while, it tells me that someone’s been feeling a little guilty. I push the door open and find her sitting at the kitchen table with her hands folded on her lap as she stares straight ahead.
“Hey,” I say, pushing the door shut with my boot.
“Hey,” she nods, still staring straight ahead.
I walk into the living room and drop my duffle bag on the floor. It has all of my clean clothes in it; all of my dirty ones are in a cloth laundry sack out in my truck.
“Dinner smells good,” I say, buying myself time to see what’s going through her head.
“Yeah. It’s your favorite. I’m making shrimp scampi linguine.”
Her voice is monotone like someone has sucked all of the life out of her. She looks weak and afraid sitting in the chair. Her wispy brown hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, and she’s wearing a pair of sweats with a baggy shirt. It’s quite the contrast compared to what she wore for a stranger who was coming to fuck her.
I can’t even get her to put on a pair of jeans and a form-fitting top for me.
Anger starts to rise from deep in my chest with a bit of resentment, but I remind myself that I’m just as much to blame for everything that’s gone on, so I’m just as guilty as she is.
I’ve made liars out of both of us.
Guilt is written all over her face, and I know this isn’t going to end well, but I’ve got to come clean. I’ve got to tell her—and myself—the truth. It’s the only way. Otherwise, I’m just going to keep stringing her along. I’ve already taken this farther than I should have, and now it’s time to man-up.
“Why are you making that?” I ask her.
She plants her foot on the cold kitchen floor and scoots her chair back, pushing herself away from the table as she gets up to tend to the food and start putting everything together so we can eat. Even though it smells delicious, my appetite is non-existent.
“Just thought I’d do something nice for you,” she says, her voice soft and submissive.
It’s so out of character for her—for us. With her and Robbie, it would be a normal thing, but I’m not playing that role right now.
“Here,” she says, handing me two wine glasses. “I bought a bottle; it’s in the fridge.”
I pour our wine as she sets the plates of food on the table.
“Why are you home so early? Thought you were going to be in Bryant for what? Two weeks, did you say?”
I hand her her glass of wine and take a sip from mine.
Standing before each other, I look into her eyes, and I can practically see her mind racing a mile a minute as her eyes scan my face to find out what I might or might not know.
“Yeah, about that,” I say, stepping closer to her as I close the distance between us.
I can smell her lavender and vanilla shampoo; it makes me want to go weak in the knees and bend down and kiss her, tell her that I love her. But I can’t do that. I can’t do any of those things right now.
“I was staying at an extended stay—until you and Robbie were together last night.”
The sound of glass shattering on the kitchen floor pierced my ears as she dropped her glass of wine, leaving tiny white suds all over the floor.
She doesn’t move a muscle, her eyes are completely focused on me as the tiny broken shards surround her feet. It doesn’t phase her a bit.
“You do realize that I know everything about him, right?”
A deafening silence fills the room as she refuses to answer me.
“Madison, I need you to talk to me here. I want to know what’s going through your head right now. No lies, no bullshit. Just tell me the truth.”
Pursing her lips, she closes her eyes as her hands ball up into tiny fists. Drawing in a deep breath, she sighs and opens her eyes.
“How?” she asks.
“Madison, do you still love me? I want to know the truth and please don’t lie to me or just say what you think I want to hear.”
For the past 24 hours, I’ve been pondering this question. Obsessing over it is more like it. Her answer will depend on whether or not I tell her that I’m Robbie, I’m the stranger she’s been dreaming of every night.
Oh? I didn’t mention that?
Yeah. Every restless night that I’ve lied next to my peaceful, beautiful wife, I’ve liste
ned to her—on multiple occasions—giggle and say his name.
Robbie.
It’s never Drew. It’s never me. It’s always him.
She looks into my eyes, her hazel eyes growing into watery saucers. I can see a surge of emotions erupting through her, and I’m scared to know what she’s going to say. Part of me doesn’t want to know her answer.
I never want to hear her say that she doesn’t love me, but the other part of me needs to hear it. Either way, her answer is going to kill me.
“Madison?” I ask her again.
Licking her lips, she sweeps a few stray hairs away from her face as she unsuccessfully tries to blink away the tears. I want to pull her in to me and tell her that I love her, it’ll be okay, we can fix this, but first I need to know her answer.
“Drew,” her lips part before she begins sobbing.
Chapter 20
Madison
Balling my fists, I bury them into his chest along with my face. My shoulders heave as I sob uncontrollably, staining his light gray shirt with my tears.
I never wanted to hurt him. That was never my intention. All I wanted was someone who could give me the excitement and attention that I needed.
How he figured out about Robbie is beyond me, but he knows all about him, apparently.
“I do love you,” I manage to get out between long, deep breaths.
“Then, why?” he asks.
Pulling myself together, I wipe my mascara smudged tears away and step back, careful to avoid the broken glass.
“How do you know? How could—how did you find out?”
I was sure that nobody would notice him parked inside the garage. Yes, I left the garage door open, but the light was off; unless maybe he flipped it on, and people saw a vehicle parked in there, but it doesn’t explain the fact that he knows his name.
“Let’s go sit down and talk about this,” he says, grabbing my hand, leading me to the living room.
He takes a seat in his recliner, sitting up tall and straight; his back stiff as a board with his hands on his knees. I sit opposite of him, on the couch, and let him begin the conversation.