by Erin Noelle
Table of Contents
About the Author
© 2015 Erin Noelle
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, is entirely coincidental.
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
Cover Photography by Furious Fotog
Cover Design by Hang Le
Cover Model: Michael Federico, Model Madness
Editing by Kayla Robichaux
Formatting by Kassi Cooper
THE BATHROOM DOOR SWINGS OPEN, and through the thick steam billowing out, she emerges with only a white towel wrapped around her. Her skin glistens with water droplets fresh from the shower, and as she strides across the carpet to the dresser, I can’t help but notice, yet again, just how fucking beautiful she is. How we ended up like this I have no clue, but I do know, without a doubt, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Pushing myself up to a sitting position from where I’ve been lounging on her bed, my movement startles her and she jumps back a good two feet, clutching the terry cloth to her chest.
“Oh my God, Gray!” she shrieks, scowling across the room at me. “You scared me half to death! Why didn’t you tell me you were home?”
“I tried to tell you, but you locked the bathroom door and your music was so loud,” I reply, sliding off the mattress and stalking toward her. “I need a shower too, ya know. We could’ve conserved water.”
Lifting one of my hands to cradle her face, I gaze down into her sky blue eyes and watch her mouth curl up into an impish grin. “I didn’t realize you were coming home early, nor was I aware you were so concerned about saving the environment,” she teases with a playfully-cocked brow.
“Mhmm.” My forehead falls to rest on hers, and instinctively, she dampens her lips with a swipe of her tongue. “So concerned, I think we should take all of our showers together from now on.”
Her face lights up as she presses her cheek into my palm. “I think that’s a great idea...for environmental reasons, of course.”
“Of course,” I repeat with a smile.
Lowering my lips to meet hers in a kiss that’s hard and wet, with sparring tongues and nipping teeth, my cock is rock-hard in a matter of seconds. Intense, passionate, and a little bit out of control, the kiss is a mirror image of our relationship, and I can’t get enough of it either.
I drop my hands to the towel, tugging on it to expose her just-washed naked body, with every intent to make her all hot and sweaty again.
“Baby,” she draws her arms up in between us, pressing lightly on my chest as she takes a step back, “I’ve gotta get dressed. Adam should be home in a little bit. We need to do this tonight. I can’t wait any longer.”
I reach out, grab hold of her hips, and yank her back to me with a muffled growl. “Adam just texted he’s working late and I’ve barely seen you the last couple of days. I miss you incredibly,” I protest as I bury my face in the soft, creamy flesh of her neck. My hands snake around to her backside, squeezing her firm ass. “All of you, mi cielo.”
A whimper escapes her throat as her petite body melts into mine, I know she can’t resist when I call her that. “We have to be fast,” she murmurs while her hands make quick work of my button and zipper. “I still want to be ready for when he comes home.”
“Oh, I can be fast,” I assure her.
I pull my t-shirt over my head in one swift motion as she works my jeans and boxers into a pool around my ankles. Capturing her mouth with mine again, I lift her up off the floor and shuffle my feet over to the bed with her legs wrapped tightly around my waist. As soon as her back hits the mattress, I’m buried deep inside her with one forceful thrust. No additional foreplay needed, my woman is already soaking wet and ready for me.
Standing at the side of the bed, I look down at her beauty splayed across the bedspread and take a deep, contented breath. Her legs are hiked up on my shoulders with my hands gripping her hips tightly, all while I pound into her with a feverish pace. She knows how much I love to watch her play with herself, so with her eyes locked on mine, she caresses her own breasts with one hand, pinching and flicking the darkened, pebbled nipples, as the other hand rubs frantic circles over her swollen clit.
“Gray, baby…oh my God, that’s it,” she moans, writhing her body in a sensual dance beneath me. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”
“Anything you want, belleza,” I grunt out as I give her exactly what she asks for.
She truly is a sight to behold—fucking incredible the things she does for me—and as her eyes begin to glaze over, I know she’s close to finding her release, which will inevitably send me over the edge as well.
Then, from out of nowhere, Adam—my longtime best friend—appears in the open doorway of the bedroom, his face radiating confusion, disbelief, and most of all, rage. I freeze mid-thrust and stare at him, an earth-shattering silence blanketing the room.
Finally finding his voice, his feet stay glued to the same spot on the floor, and he roars, “Mom, what the fuck is going on?”
I LOVE WEDDINGS. Or at least I used to. I once thought there was nothing more romantic in the world than to watch two people, who were so in love with each other, pledge their loyalty and dedication to one another for the rest of their lives in front of their family and friends. The notion of unconditionally supporting and cherishing your chosen partner forever, or until death do you part, is the very thing fairy tales are built on. It’s exhilarating, enchanting, and most of all...a crock of shit.
I know this, because a little over twenty years ago, I had a wedding—albeit a small one of the shotgun variety—and made all of those heartfelt vows to the man I loved. Yet somehow, today he’s making those same promises, again, to someone who most definitely isn’t me. And although there are times I feel pretty dead emotionally, the fact my alarm clock still blares its annoying sound in my ears each and every morni
ng—much like it’s doing right at this moment—ensures I am, in fact, very much alive. ’Til death do us part, my ass.
With an exaggerated groan, my legs swing over the side of the bed, sliding down the over-sized mattress until my toes land on the plush carpet. I switch the buzzing bastard off and groggily shuffle my way into the master bathroom, praying I could blink and this day would be over.
After I relieve my screaming bladder and brush my teeth, I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time in the last nine months, wondering how in God’s name I got to this point in my life. This wasn’t supposed to be how I ended up. Nope, not even close.
“A divorce?! What do you mean you want a divorce?” I screeched as I threw the package I’d been clenching in my hands down on the coffee table and leapt up from the couch. I felt as though I’d just been punched in the gut. “Is this some kind of a cruel joke?”
“Keep your voice down, Mia, and let’s talk about this like two rational adults,” Mark, my husband-for-apparently-not-too-much-longer, replied from his recliner. “There’s no need to alert Adam.”
My eyes bulged out of my head at his blasé, almost bored, attitude over the conversation. “No need to alert Adam? You don’t think our son will be alerted when his father moves out of the house? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Adam is twenty years old. He has his own life now, and he’ll understand when we sit him down and explain—”
“Explain what exactly?” I interrupted, pacing back and forth across our living room floor, anger fueling my every step. “That you woke up this morning and decided you didn’t want to be a part of our family anymore? Is that what he’ll understand, Mark? Because I’m a grown ass woman, and I’m not quite understanding it.”
He sighed with frustration, scrubbing his palms up and down his face. “Please, sit down so we can discuss this. Sensibly. You’re acting like an unreasonable child.”
“Fuck you and your rational and sensible adult self, Mark.” A bonfire of rage ignited in my stomach, each word coming out of his mouth a gust of wind that strengthened and spread the devastating blaze. “Last night, we had sex before we went to bed and you said you loved me, and now today, you’re ending our twenty year marriage. Forgive me if I’m missing something here! Not to mention, there doesn’t really seem like much to talk about, considering you’ve already had papers drawn up.”
I stopped walking and dropped back down onto the sofa, picking up the manila envelope in the process. My hands trembled out of control as I pulled the stack of typed papers out and set them on my lap, still in total disbelief of what was happening. He sat and waited silently as I flipped through them, not that I was actually reading any of it. All I could make out was a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo through my vision, which was blurred with furious tears.
Then, all of a sudden, it hit me. I’m not sure how I knew, but I knew, and was one hundred percent certain of it. It was the only reason he’d ever want to leave.
“How long?” I croaked out in a hoarse whisper.
“How long what?”
I lifted my eyes from the pile of documents to meet his. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, shoulders slumping slightly.
“How long have you been fucking her?” My voice was eerily calm.
“Mia, it’s not—”
“I asked how long you’ve been fucking her, and don’t lie to me, goddamn it,” I cut him off, not interested in hearing any excuses. “I’ve given you over half of my life, gave up everything for you, and I deserve to know the truth.”
“A little over two years.”
When those five words left his mouth, everything in my life changed. Instantly.
No take-backs, no do-overs.
The inferno raging inside me immediately froze into an icy river coursing through my veins, and without another word, my marriage undoubtedly ended.
There was no point in fighting for the man I’d loved since I was sixteen, the father of my son, and my best friend for more than two decades. No, he was already gone, and had been for a little over two years.
Refusing to shed another tear for the bastard who shattered my world to pieces, I roll my shoulders back and tilt my chin up as I walk out into the hallway. I can do this…or at least I can fake it.
“Mom?! Is that you? Are you up?” Adam calls out as I make my way down the stairs.
The delicious smell of coffee and bacon beckons me a little louder with each step I take, and I wonder what in the world he’s doing in the kitchen. I hope to God he hasn’t caught anything on fire or broken any of my nice dishes.
“Morning, kid,” I reply cheerfully, possibly a little too cheerfully, as I join him. “Who else would it be thundering down the stairs, silly?”
He stops whisking whatever it is he’s attempting to cook on the stove and rushes over to me, throwing his arms around me and lifting me off the floor in a gigantic bear hug. “I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast in bed this morning, but everything’s taking a little longer than I planned.”
Setting me back on my feet, he glances around at the various mixing bowls, frying pans, and miscellaneous ingredients strewn across the granite countertop, and offers a modest grin. “Sorry about all this, but I promise I’ll clean it up when we’re done.”
I smile a sincere smile and stand up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart. Thank you.”
“No problem at all; this is what sons are for. Now, you need to go relax in the living room, and I’ll bring your coffee and breakfast in just a few minutes,” he insists. “I promise I’m not going to fu— uh, mess anything up.”
“Good catch.” I chuckle at his near word-slip. Not that I would mind much if he did use the word; after all, he’s a twenty-year-old man now, but it simply makes me feel good he’s respectful enough to try not to curse around me. “Let me know if you need any help. I don’t mind.”
“Hush and go to the couch, or I’ll make you go get back in bed like I originally planned.”
“I’m going. I’m going,” I reply as I stroll out of the kitchen.
Knowing Adam’s doing all of this to brighten my spirits, because he’s well aware of how difficult this day is going to be for me, gives me a glimmer of hope I raised my son right. They always say ‘watch how a man treats his mother because it’s a good indication on how he’ll treat the other women in his life’, and based on Adam’s pampering of me over the last few months, some lucky girl will land quite the catch with my baby boy.
I flop down on the couch and turn the TV on, flipping through the nothingness on the hundreds of channels until I land on the Kathy Bates’ classic, Misery, a perfect match for my mood.
Adam walks into the room with my coffee and food just in time to catch the notorious ‘hobbling’ scene playing out on the screen. Shaking his head with a snicker, he hands me the piping hot mug of my morning crack and sets the plate on the coffee table in front of me. “Don’t be gettin’ any bright ideas, Mom.”
Laughing, I take a sip and then set the cup down. “I’m not. I promise. Just a little fun fantasizing,” I reply, peering up at him with a smile. “What time do you have to leave?”
“I don’t know. Dad asked me to come over as early as possible, but the wedding isn’t until six.” He shrugs his broad shoulders and runs his fingers through his shaggy, light brown hair, his discomfort with discussing the topic resting heavy in his baby blues.
“Why don’t you go ahead and go over there? Didn’t Gray fly in yesterday? I’m sure you’re dying to see him; it’s been almost a year since you two hung out together.”
My offer is genuine, not a trick to see if he’ll choose staying here with me while I wallow in my sorrows or go to his dad’s and soon-to-be new stepmom’s house to help them prepare for their wedding. I’m not selfish enough to believe his father should no longer be a part of his life. It’s not Adam’s fault his dad and his best friend’s mom were having an affair for years behind my back, although I know
he feels a bit of guilt over the entire situation.
“Yeah, he got in yesterday afternoon, but he spent the night with Jess. I need to text him and see what time he’s going home. I don’t want to be there unless he’s there too,” Adam responds, his eyes now fixed on the TV.
“I didn’t realize Gray and Jess stayed together while he was in Spain,” I remark. “Good for them.”
“Yep, good for them,” he mutters, blowing out a frustrated breath. I feel a twinge of guilt for saying anything, because I know Adam had a crush on Jess before she and Gray started dating a couple of years ago. He’d never said anything about it, but my motherly intuition knew the broody moods that followed were about more than just lost time with his long-time best friend.
He bends down and kisses the top of my head. “I’m gonna clean up the kitchen, then I’ll text Gray. I’ll let you know before I head out. You make any plans for today, like I suggested?”
Nodding, I smile up at him and pat his hip. “Sure did. I’m going to the gym this morning, and then I’m spending the afternoon at the spa for pretty much every service they offer—massage, facial, nails, hair…all of it. I’ll be a new person the next time you see me.”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with the old you, Mom, but he’s not the only one who deserves a fresh start.”
With a smile, he walks out of the room, leaving me with the best advice I could’ve heard. I do deserve a fresh start, and that’s exactly what I’m going to focus on.
I hate weddings. Hate them with a passion. They’re a huge waste of money, and not to mention, a burdensome event your family and friends feel obligated to attend while they pretend they’re having a good time watching you make promises you’ll never keep. Most marriages I see either end up with two people unhappy about the choices they’ve made in their life—primarily, the choice to get married—or in divorce, which is another extravagant expense.
Marriages can put your friendships at risk, they lead to reliance on another human being to get shit done, and one study I saw recently even showed marriage was connected to male obesity. No fucking thank you. I’ll keep my friends, take care of my damn self, and stay in awesome shape. I don’t need a wife to get pussy on a regular basis, and that’s really the only reason I can think of for why some guys take the matrimonial plunge. If I ever get the urge to have a kid or two, then that can happen without a wedding too…just ask my mom, she had me.